Monday, November 25, 2002

shite. I feel like shite today. Of course the day before I'm going to the mainland, it seems I've come down with some nasty ass cold. Throat sore as hell, phlegm up to here, chest pain, stuffy head, fun fun fun. You know what did it, I think? I fell asleep on the beach yesterday. Cloudy day, kinda chilly, fell asleep and woke up feeling nippy. Later that night scratchy throat. FUCK. Should have learned from John Travolta as the Boy in the Bubble. He went to the beach and fell asleep and came down with a cold too. Luckily I don't have boy in the bubble disease or else I'd be really fucked. Oh well. Shit happens. It's almost lunch break, time to go stock up on oranges and get me some vitamin c action. Ker-plop, just popped two day-quils. We'll see how that works out.

Ok right before I head out gotta talk a little shit. Cal whupped up on Stanford's sorry ass! I'm not one to say I told you so, but... Also, the Raiders beat up on Arizona. So it was death to all things cardinal. Denver and San Diego lost so it's a 3-way tie atop the AFC West, beyotches, with the Raiders in the driver's seat, momentum and all that, plus Griese's sorry ass leg being busted up (bummer) - yeah I'm really broken up about it.

OK I just got back from the store and picked up some oranges. Like a dumbfuck I forgot to pick up throat drops. What is it about being sick that it turns my brain into mush? I stood in the store with my bag of oranges like, duh, mcfly, um what? I didn't feel like eating anything other than oranges, but lemme tell you these oranges are acidy as fuck and burning my tender throaty-throat. Hmmmm. Ok, just had a few more, throat is adapting to citric factor. Working… working… stasis achieved.

Yesterday was a cool day. Mrs. P had to read a book, the Awakening, by Kate Chopin, which she hadn't even started, for her English class by today, so we had a reading day. (Well, I had a reading afternoon, after watching the Raidaaaas). We went to the beach for a while and read. We went to Starbucks and drank coffee and read. We ate Mosburgers in Waikiki and read. We went to Starbucks again and had more coffee and read. (Well I had more coffee, Mrs. P had carrot juice). While she read about some 1800's lady that is frustrated with her inattentive husband and wants to have an affair with a 15 year old, I caught up with my long neglected copy of The Satanic Verses. Damn that book is frikken good. Salman Rushdie, some of the knowledge he kicks, makes a guy wonder why even try to write, cuz I don't think I could come close to that level. That's like that otha level style that Bushwick Bill talked about. Anyway, phat book, I'm on the home stretch, about 80 pages to go. Definitely worthwhile read, check it out, but be prepared to simmer your brain in a vat of philosophical ponderations. The way that book is put together, the deepness under deepness under the well of comprendederos, you're cerebrum will be spinning, but in a good way. It's amazing how he balances such heavy material but presents it in such a kickback casual style. It really goes all over the place, from the streets of modern (well, 80's) London to the ancient times of Mohammed (here referred to as Mahound) and all kinds of points in between, examining the natures of good and evil, our understanding of the basic concepts of right and wrong, human nature, the whole nine yards.

Otay, time for me to eat oranges and stop thinking. Adios. Maybe back later maybe not. Fly to mainland tomorrow. Hope I don't feel too coldy-sicky on the airplane tomorrow, cuz then my ears get clogged up something fierce and that does not make johnny a happy boy.