Wednesday, September 07, 2011


I'm trying not to get back in bed, yet. But why? I guess I'm waiting for the food to digest a little, the food I just ate, but why? So I can nourish myself, feel better – what a joke.

There were other questions I wanted to ask, but what were they? My eyes are closing while I'm writing, can I write while I dream? Dream while I write? Dream?

Last night: so much bloating, in bed. And then, my mind racing in all the directions I wouldn't be able to go once I woke up, I mean get out of bed for the new day, today.

I wonder if the doctor will remember to bring the test kits over, on her way home to her house five doors down. I think I just heard thunder. Yes, thunder. Maybe that will help. I mean I don't know what will help. I keep waiting for that moment when something gets better, anything – where is that moment?

A balloon: that's what the feldenkrais CD said to imagine, your breath moving in all directions. And then, later, in bed, my belly, a balloon: but not my breath, just pain.
Stuck. Everything, and my head, moving in all directions. My brain, I mean: 4:44 am on the clock, even though I've trained myself not to open my eyes somehow it's become comforting. Doesn't make me more wired, just aware. Or, sometimes more wired, but still, looking at the clock, hoping for relief. Enough time goes by and then it's time, for what? To get out of bed, so I can get back in bed, so I can get out of bed.

No, I need more than a moment of feeling better: when it's just a moment, it feels like delusion. I need something to get better, but first I need to get back in bed, now.

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