Wounded (well, chilled and sick) at the Front Lines
Tonight's blog blurb is brought to you through a haze of over-the-counter cold and cough medicines far more potent than most weed when combined indiscriminantly, as I have done. Not to mention sloshy mucous head. On the way home from the subway, some guy who was in a hurry bumped my shoulder and I'm so out of it and so sick that he sent me flying into an embankment of brownish black snow piled 2 feet high from plowing. I laid there for about 3 minutes before I could even get up; I love being sick in this city.
I managed to get home at 11:30 last night, after much confusion and frustration. My first bus, the Hassidic version of the Chinatown bus, was cancelled. Good thing I bought that round trip ticket to save that extra $5, huh? I then got a ticket online for one of the Chinatown buses (Eastern, I think) for 6pm. I arrive only to find out that the 6pm bus is cancelled, or so we think. As no one who works for any of the Chinatown Bus lines speaks English unless its convenient, you're always kind of in the dark. So we waited in the unheated tiny room watching Chinese MTV (in Mandarin with Cantonese subtitles, of course) until about 7:45ish, at which point we finally boarded the bus. I thankfully ODed on cough meds and slept through the almost the whole trip. At the very end of the trip the guy sitting in front of me grabbed my leg and started shaking it to wake me up and ask me if he could turn off the reading light above me. I was asleep, asshole. Obviously I had no need for the light, or for you to wake me up and ask about it. I'm sure he was a young Republican.
So I'd love to post a huge update telling you all about the inaugural weekend and such, but I desperately need to lie down alternately whining and moaning until the cold meds cocktail knocks my ass out. Protesting in a blizzard sucks, just in case you were wondering. My mother predictably said "I knew you'd get sick protesting in the cold like that." I'm incredibly glad I went; I just wish I had worn an enitire whale over the 50,000 layers of long underwear I erroneously thought would protect me from the elements.
Whose streets?
Our Streets!
Whose pneumonia?
Our pneumonia!
Please send soup and wake me up in 8 years.
(moan, moan, whimper)
I managed to get home at 11:30 last night, after much confusion and frustration. My first bus, the Hassidic version of the Chinatown bus, was cancelled. Good thing I bought that round trip ticket to save that extra $5, huh? I then got a ticket online for one of the Chinatown buses (Eastern, I think) for 6pm. I arrive only to find out that the 6pm bus is cancelled, or so we think. As no one who works for any of the Chinatown Bus lines speaks English unless its convenient, you're always kind of in the dark. So we waited in the unheated tiny room watching Chinese MTV (in Mandarin with Cantonese subtitles, of course) until about 7:45ish, at which point we finally boarded the bus. I thankfully ODed on cough meds and slept through the almost the whole trip. At the very end of the trip the guy sitting in front of me grabbed my leg and started shaking it to wake me up and ask me if he could turn off the reading light above me. I was asleep, asshole. Obviously I had no need for the light, or for you to wake me up and ask about it. I'm sure he was a young Republican.
So I'd love to post a huge update telling you all about the inaugural weekend and such, but I desperately need to lie down alternately whining and moaning until the cold meds cocktail knocks my ass out. Protesting in a blizzard sucks, just in case you were wondering. My mother predictably said "I knew you'd get sick protesting in the cold like that." I'm incredibly glad I went; I just wish I had worn an enitire whale over the 50,000 layers of long underwear I erroneously thought would protect me from the elements.
Whose streets?
Our Streets!
Whose pneumonia?
Our pneumonia!
Please send soup and wake me up in 8 years.
(moan, moan, whimper)
posted by Le Synge Bleu at 10:15 PM
3 Comments:
One trip to Dr. Robert will have you feeling MUCH better...um, hope you know that song. "He's got everything you need..."
Anyway, it's on Revolver. Which reminds me that I was thinking of "Here, There, and Everywhere," which reminded me of P. I guess everything reminds you of something, as Hemingway said.
get well soon, my little political crusader. i am so proud of you for going and standing in a blizzard. and to think i bitched when i couldn't find parking because of the snow. i watched 'iron jawed angels' last night (good message, bad telling) and thought of you. you would have made a fine suffragette (and you would have looked good in the hats too).
And how does it remind you of me? ...here there and everywhere? P
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