This whole week has been a blur of kleenex, blankets, orange juice, and alternating attacks of drowsy and non-drowsy cold pills (and one borrowed Allegra that for a surreal twelve hours had me floating six American inches above my body, a balloon in the Thanksgiving Day Parade, waving and smiling at all the tiny people).

Seriously, I don't remember many details, I've been living too deep inside my head to notice the fine print. The congestion muffled everything -- not that my hearing was impaired, exactly, more I was getting things a beat or two later than usual. It would take about an hour to shift my focus from one thing to the next: first my head drifted over, slowed even further by the wind drag of my constantly open mouth, then we all waited a few seconds more for my eyes to arrive. And I could hear my heartbeat in my head, a deadened wahw-wahw-wahw thing that I can only describe as the "sound of science fiction."

Anyway, I think I'm back now. (Although this morning I did manage to forget to shave one of my legs.) Just in time, too, because tonight it's "Hey Verne", an evening of musical improv inspired by the writings of Jules Verne. No joking! I know it sounds completely made up, like a background detail of a certain kind of fantastical movie, like a "three ex-presidents killed when space laser accidentally incinerated Palm Springs" news flash in Robocop, or the "Jeffersons on Ice" show playing, I think, on a television in a bar scene of Kingpin. But it's true. "Hey Verne"!

(PS: My diary has officially moved over to my official evany.com website. Let's meet up over there!)

(PS: My diary has officially moved over to my official evany.com website. Let's meet up over there!)