It is a problem I have had for three days now. I go to sleep and dream of this problem. I can’t articulate it when awake. I told Doc it was a mathematical-linguistic problem. But there is measurement and balance involved. It’s so clear as soon as I lose consciousness. And when I bring myself around, I try to grasp it, to maybe apply some real world logic to it. But reality cannot hold this and it skitters away. I have a feeling I’ve solved it, just not been able to execute the solution correctly. Doc is little help, he forgets most of what I say in my sleep, even though he talks to me when it happens and tries to comfort me.
Today’s high was last night at midnight. 61 degrees. It’s still 50-something out there, with a cool breeze. It’s hot in here, and I’m running a fever again, so I keep running outside to play with the animals or have a smoke. At least I’m wearing pants today. I can’t decide what medication to take. Sudafed, of which I have plenty, but it is not as effective; or, Day-Quil, which is my last dose, but will make me feel much better. Hrm. I hate winter. I can’t believe I may have to move back east again and deal with that half a year of death and cold. I fucking hate that idea.
I told Kelli I couldn’t go back to Philadelphia. I would get off in Pittsburgh and she and I would rent a warehouse space and be wild artists. And I would hide all winter and not make personal appearances. I don’t want to talk about it. It’s a fate more horrible than death and it’s coming up in the new year, and I just don’t want to think about it. I will just say, I’m not a caregiver.