Friday, January 07, 2011

Ill Communication

By Pauly
Los Angeles, CA

The wook flu floored me. I went down hard on Wednesday and most of Thursday. I woke up feeling much improved on Friday morning, but overall still feel as though I have a few more days to go before I can shake this nasty bug.

It all started on Monday when I discovered my brother and friends were feeling blah. Nicky flew from NYC to LA a day earlier than me. Upon her return, she said that she got hit hard with a sinus infection and suffering from wook flu symptoms. When Benjo got back home to France, he mentioned that he also had the wook flu. Irongirl said the same thing. At the time, I was fine, but attempted to boost my immune system. Alas, it was too late. By the time I landed in LA, the bug had taken control.

Ironically, while on my flight from JFK to LAX, I read all of Richard Preston's The Hot Zone, in which he chronicled an Ebola outbreak just outside of DC. Betcha didn't know that we were very close to a biological disaster almost twenty years ago? After reading the entire 300+ page book on my flight, I was convinced that I had Ebola. Of course, that was just a wave of paranoia. When it subsided, I ruled out Ebola and malaria. Thankfully, I didn't bleed out and shit out my bloody intestines. But whatever version of the wook flu I had acquired was severely kicking my ass. My fever soared to 103. I couldn't stop shaking from the chills. Cold shivers. Up and down my spine. My teeth wouldn't stop chattering. I buried myself underneath our bedspread and a 35 degree sleeping bag on top of it all. And that doesn't include all of the layers of clothing that I had worn to try to keep warm.

During my first two nights back to LA, I sweat through 2 sets of clothes during the first night and 3 sets on the second night. I'd wake up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat and quickly change into a new set of clothes and dive back under the covers. Inside of a 48 hour period, I was bedridden for almost 30 hours. Man, I don't get that much bed time in ten days let alone two. That's how badly the wook flu kicked my ass.

Nicky didn't take any chances and slept in my office the last few nights. She quarantined me to our bedroom and I felt like patient zero from Outbreak.

I was unable to do anything. On Wednesday, I barely ate save for a bowl and a half of soup. I couldn't read books (not enough focus to retain information), and I definitely couldn't attempt to slash my way through a backlog of writing and other work. That just made the situation even more frustrating. I managed to watch a lot of stuff on the boob tube. I know this will be a shocker to some of you, but Nicky had never seen Trading Places. I couldn't believe it. The final scene was shot on location on the 8th floor of the old World Trade Center. Anyway, I found a used DVD for like $3 and we watched it my first night back. Vintage Eddie Murphy and Dan Akroyd, plus you get to see Jamie Lee Curtis' boobies.

On Wednesday, I caught up with this season of Hoarders, including the last episode which chronicled two animal hoarders. One was an old redneck lady who had imprisoned tons of ducks and chickens on her property. She had a pregnant and injured goat limping around her yard. She was sad case for sure. And the other segment included a guy with serious anger management issues who had a horde of bunnies that destroyed his house. They ate through the dry wall and shit everywhere. Totally disgusting. But I gotta say, those types of animal Hoarder episodes are way more fascinating that the "over-consumers" who buy too much shit.

Thursday, I felt a little better or so I thought. I guess I put in a bunch of small bets on games that I didn't recall making over the last 2 or so days in my haze. I must have checked the betting lines and went ahead with a few bets. Luckily, everything was small so even though I went like 2-4, I didn't lose too much money. I gotta make sure that I avoid making bets when I'm hallucinating due to the high fever dreams.

And yes, my dreams have been spooky. Lots of dead animals in my dreams. You can read about the real dead animals over at Tao of Fear. We posted a few blurbs about the potential cause of the dead birds. One thing for sure, it's fucking scary. Roger Ebert said it best, "We're in the first act of a disaster movie."

So Thursday had me propped up on the couch and I devoured three flicks. I watched Greenberg per Strawberry's recommendation. It was better than I expected. I'm a fan of director Noah Baumbach, but his last film lacked the punch of his Squid and the Whale opus. But Greenberg was right up my alley... displaced depressed artistic New Yorker is a fish outta water in LA. Sounds so familiar, eh? Just like Greenberg, I don't drive in LA and I write scathing letters to corporations.

Nicky and I also watched a documentary called CSA: The Confederate States of America, a mockumentary on what would have happened if the South won the Civil War, er, shall I say, the War of Northern Aggression. Blew me away for sure.

Of course, I delved into some UFO shit as well. I watched one documentary about UFOs in Norway called The Portal: Hessdalen Lights Phenomenon. Man, that almost made me want to go to Norway to see for myself.

So now it's Friday. My entire week was shot because of the wook flu and all I can help but think: "When will I be better enough to be able to start working/writing?"

If I don't write, I feel utterly useless and depression sinks in. Today is the first time in a few days when I've been able to have enough strength to sit up and write. Let's hope this continues. In the meantime, time to do some research on all of those dead birds that the MSM is covering up and getting ready for the Jets playoff game tomorrow.

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