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Location: Southeastern, United States

Friday, May 27, 2005

I will henceforth eat no fish of fortune's buttering.

(- the clown, All's Well that Ends Well, Act 5 scene 2.)

There are good things about being sick - third-world water kind of sick, trespass not in the bathroom kind of sick, going to sleep at six in the evening kind of sick. I found - I am better now - that during the three days of my isolation, my senses were amplified. I could smell not just the tree but the bark and flowers on the tree; the sky was many colors crossing, not just blue. Vicarious senses worked overtime too. When the Gilmore Girls sat down and shared a box of donuts, I could taste the donuts, I could feel the powdery sugar under my fingers, I could smell them and feel the weight of the person sitting on the couch beside me eating them. My first response to illness is usually a profound oversensitivity - for the first day, I didn't know what was wrong, only that the slightest breeze or the touch of my shirt hurt my skin - but this is the first time it's been so interesting.

The hitchhiking boy, unafraid of flu, came back through and slept at our house last night. He also smells good, of sweat and bikes and a little exhaust. One thing that I miss about Boone is people who smell like people, breathing their pheremones, all those mammalian senses - are they well? are they stressed? that are so crippled in the deodorant culture. People just smell so good, and it's spring and is supposed to be about smells, flower smells, earth smells, human smells.

A minor perversity: I am now down to my first target weight. I will try to maintain it, then. The fact that I'm still too queasy to eat regularly should help.

love,
alex

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