Straight Illin'

I just can't feel better, guys. Even when the sore throat wanes, I still am consumed with sheer weariness in my bones. The kind of physical exhaustion that makes me fall asleep at nine and want to take two hour naps during the day. I continually contemplate the idea that I may have mono (again) or that I somehow permanently misplaced my adrenals/will to live.

I ran into one of my personal heroes, Harijot, last night at the Venice Whole Foods, an encounter that surprised and delighted us both. Harijot is a magical sprite of a lady, my very special fairy godmother who wears a turban and reminds me to breath deeply. She singlehandedly got me through my 9-5 job without long-term psychological damage. Anyway, I blathered on about the Laurel Canyon mold fest and how I just haven't felt right ever since that time. She bleakly informed me that if it took me two and a half months to get all busted in the face and spored on a cellular level, why should it take any less time to feel ship-shape? Not the news I wanted to hear, but somehow she made me feel better. I think that's what it's like to be magic.

But like a trooper I've been showing up at a few holiday social engagements (though sleeping through most), and completely faking my way through it. "I've never felt better!" I cheer, as my fake smile triggers a headache pang. One of the shindigs I managed to straggle out to was the Bunim/Murray party (parent company of my beloved TVgasm)with Flipit last weekend. I felt I had to. It's coming up on my year anniversary at the 'gasm and I wanted to get something to compensate for the weak pay. Those things being free food and shitty characatures of my face.

I mean, you'd never guess I was dying on the inside, right? Right?? Make me feel better, gang.

Not pictured: Burning sore throat, large crowd-induced vertigo, dull, persistent headache, desire to be in a fetal position.