Je suis "sick as a dog"

That's a David Kirby poem title. I'm often teased for being a bellyacher when sick. I think that this prophecy / observation self-fulfills. You laugh at a sick fellow for being down w/ the whole experience of sickness, and this treatment just lades further life-weight upon the soul. And sighs commence. So I tend to frown a lot when my nose is red. Does that make me a bellyacher? So be it. (Frowns; sighs.)

In this state, nonetheless, I have to:

a) continue researching / contacting / sending application materials to various East Coast community colleges;

b) comment on something like 100 pages of student-penned insights;

c) write a poem, a good one that is;

d) read about the sonnet for class;

e) heal myself;

f) submit to the tense second-ticks of 24;

g) return to some manner of substantive, meaningful blogging. Keep it here.