i can begin my journal entry about how i've been sick as a donkey all weekend in one of various ways:

1) drawing relevance by citing the episode of search for the next doll where that blonde chick catches a "contagious virus," spreading it to half of the contestants and thus singlehandedly incinerating their hopes, dreams, and aspirations.

2) writing a verse that would undoubtedly bring any mad rapper, player hater, or @!$&%-#*$!-*!&@#?@! to his/her knees, and then replace every line where i say "i spit hot rhymes" with "i spit snot slimes"

3) saying "i'm sick. still sick." and then going to bed as my body is practically begging me to right now.

BUT ALAS! i stay, for YOU! now i know that my pussycat dolls reference just now was probably a huge disappointment for all the fans who like me for my death metal spoken word, but i don't really have much hardcoreness left to preserve after spending the last couple of days soaking in the filth that is me in my pajamas, guzzling tubes of airborne while watching something's gotta give and ghost with my mom. on thursday i was blessed with my absolute FAVORITE of ALL sick symptoms--sore throat.

i was actually fighting it off pretty well, and by friday it had gone down to a mere throat irritation, and so i decided to go jogging. i ended up going with phatrick who convinced me to jog the entire 3-mile long route around lake merritt. then my smart self decided to order a ridiculously greasy brunch complete with eggs and mushrooms drenched in oil and fried potatoes. the combination of my depleted body and the bad meal must have been an invitation to the germs trying to force their way into my system...i swear i heard something inside my esophagus yell, "CONQUER!!!!!" within a couple of hours my throat was fully inflamed and my temperature was so high the bottom of my tongue burnt my lower lip.

i quickly packed up a bag of random clothes and drove my diseased ass to my family's house, so that i could incubate my horridness among the comfort of a widescreen tv and the banter of my little brother and sister.

now i'm not a doctor (or nurse...or even an extra in grey's anatomy) but i'm pretty sure a lot of my sickness--that ironically arose the very first day of me claiming my life as a full-time artist (more on that soon)--has to do with the fact that i've been spending the better portion of flu season boasting about how i'm healthy as a donkey and get sick "maybe once every two or three years...oh yeah, watch me flex my chestplates." basically karma for telling people that i NEVER "toxify" my body with unnatural medication is my dog staring at me while i force theraflu into myself in deathly gulps. being sick's not fun, and not having a 9-5 job completely eradicates the only thrill of getting sick, which is taking a sick day off. what's even worse is getting sick right as spring begins to peak from the heavens, forcing you to shiver in your hoodie and sweatpants while children outside frolic in the 70 degree weather.

but that is all. the sore throat subsides. and had i slept earlier instead of writing about being sick, i'd probably have a better chance of being able to write about frolicking in the sun tomorrow. whatever. frolicking is overrated.