... no, today was not all fun and games. i almost threw up on the train, then again in the office, then barely made my way home where i just passed out for about four hours or so. and i am still getting these hot flashes which make me feel like a woman of a certain age, though i am certainly neither. i ran out of glasses i ran out of cutlery, the knife is buried under a pile of dirty dishes. i used my teeth to peel off layers and layers of an onion. the other room is very cool now, this is where i passed out before, this is where i am going to pass out again. no i have not been drinking. though i have not been drinking enough water either. so there you have it. messed up a whole day this way. how many times can i check my email and how many times can i stare at the mails i have yet to reply to. where is the charger for my radio? i wonder if i would keep coming back to this blog here if it were not myself. nothing appears to be happening, there is a thick myst around every single statement. this stuff must get horribly boring after a while, no? But years and years of it? I mean thousands of pages? All neatly compressed and coded and avoiding the meat of things at times. What is it that i know more of now than in 2001? Every man is a network. I think i might be a rather quiet, private one. I think the intimacy of this place keeps increasing and as we progress closer and closer to the core of the writer, we discover that there are larger and larger gaps, voids, spaces between spaces. It is comforting not to be dense and done and finished... but as fragile as i am... as vulnerable i feel i am as well... and maybe this is not something that should be admitted in public? i do not consider this here public space though... no matter how many hundreds and thousands of eyes find their way onto these very lines of words written in a language that i still see from the outside. here we go again... another stupid hot flash... and that throbbing, rhythmic headache...