Honestly, I get sick, and I'm useless. I have no idea how many authors and performers and suchlike soldier on in the face of illness. I feel sort of ashamed that I can't, but I've never been good for that.
After two days down, I'm insanely bored, and my mind is spinning in ever smaller and more frantic circles. Sickness almost always triggers in me periods of intense anxiety and depression. Too much time to think on things I ought not allow myself to dwell upon overly long. To make it worse, this bug has perfectly coincided with three days of marvelous weather here in Providence. Days in the '80s Fahrenheit! We should be at the sea, and, instead, we're stuck inside, taking a tiny bit of solace in the warm air through the windows and the chance to air out the apartment. Tomorrow, in true Rhode Island fashion, we're set for a radical temperature shift, and the high will only be 60˙.
We've watched more of Games of Thrones, and I'm liking it a great deal.I've tried to keep myself occupied by reading, short stories by Ligotti, and I've begun and finished Richard Milner's book on Charles R. Knight. I did have an important conversation with my agent yesterday afternoon regarding many projects (I might have been lucid).
Okay, enough for now. And typos be damned.