Tuesday, September 26, 2006


I have pneumonia. I feel like I'm breathing fire, and I have a crazy fever and the best that's come of all this is that every few hours I wake up and write down my fever dreams in a notebook I keep by my bed. Mostly it's been inspiration for slam poetry; occasionally, a more coherent stream of consciousness.

I quote from the notebook:

what can you do when you're on fire for someone who doesn't even know what a match is,
what do you have to fear when you've never known darkness,
what is there to aspire to when all the mountains have become dust and the plains
are buckled and warped like lumber
left out in the rain
what would I give to run my hands over the sweet contours of your face
and map your body again?

Facts about today:
I had a therapy appointment that I was too feverish to get much benefit out of. (Yes, I know I ended with a preposition. I'm not apologizing).
I am applying to five medical schools for REAL now that AMCAS has received my transcripts. Glory hallelujah.
I had four vials of blood drawn downtown and then had to walk the better part of a mile uphill (a steep, Ithaca hill) to get back to my house.
Today the new york state gubernatorial debate was held at cornell university, in bailey hall.
Meanwhile, President Musharraf was speaking at Cornell Weill in New York City.
i'm too tired to punctuate or capitalize consistently.
My lymph nodes are literally the size of ping-pong balls, which makes it hard to swallow.
I still don't fully understand middle high german, even with a dictionary.
today I walked three miles, but made up for it by not eating much (I can't taste anything, and texture only gets you so far).
I'll be having a ritual on friday night to exorcise one of my biggest, scariest demons. There will be three other women with me. Before the ritual, we'll have a dinner that I'll prepare (God willing, and I stop hacking up chernobyl-green phlegm...Isn't phlegm such a disgusting word? It sounds like exactly what it is...sputum is a nicer name, a little more detached, not quite so thick...I think it's those heavy dipthongs, the ph and gm, that make phlegm sound so viscerally gross... and mucus is likewise narsty). Anyway, the dinner. Warm pitas with baba ganouj, hummus bi tahin, and feta-tzatziki...rice and bulgur pilaf with saffron and almonds...and for dessert, a Lebanese sweet called halva (not the Joyva Halvah you buy at the grocery store, which is basically a block of lard and made with sesame seeds...this is almond and wheat halvah, much lighter, but also much sweeter). Funny how the idea of cooking it revs me up so much, but the though of eating it (especially the halva, which, even in this reduced-fat form, is still a very very dense source of calories...like a neutron star of sugar and fat) freaks me out.

Since Telluride won the dorm-chef competition, I've been feeling pretty confident about my cooking abilities... we did a bang-up job. In two hours, with only a microwave, a fridge, and 'dorm' ingredients (peanut butter, ramen, chips and the like) we came up with three surprisingly delicious and nutritious dishes: Desiree and I made a grape-apple crisp; Michael and Calvin put together a cold citrus noodle salad; Jim and Sid and I figured out the coup de grace, a cashew-chicken chili with herbed sour cream, quesadilla strips and grape-orange salsa. We rocked it hard; the whole team was great. Maybe I'll go be a chef somewhere.
Or a painter/poet/doctor/chef. A Renaissance woman. A Jill-of-all-trades. A Queen of DIY. Now all I need is a lady to share my queendom with...

1 comment:

Innie said...

love your notebook quote!