medicated
The head pounding set in Saturday evening. I knew something was coming, my whole body felt warm with a slight ache. Sunday and Monday are a complete blur. I didn't leave the apartment, I didn't eat, and my thoughts quickly became sporadic and non-sensical. I cursed the juice company Tampico for profiting off my illness. Eventually, it was only slipping and sliding: slipping in and out of consiousness and sliding blanket-wrapped across the floor trying keep myself in the slanted rectangles of the sun's afternoon window-rays.
The sun set and I was irrationally concerned that I would be unable to warm myself through the night. I needed to call someone! tell them that I wasn't thinking straight, that I was vomiting, and that I felt like crying. After maybe thirty minutes I managed to located the keys and proper change. But then I thought about having to walk all the way outside and around the corner to the phone, would anything be worth that! I chose to stay inside and mumble. "I can't breathe" "I can't go to the campo" "My eye's will turn yellow" "I won't have health to go to France" "I'll never see Africa again."
restless night
This morning Wes was home and I was awake for the first time. I told him about this headache.
He gave me a green pill.
With my glasses off I sat and watched the clear-day, bright-brick colors of El Alto jump in and out of the window. I watched Wes play legos with the Baker's trilingual child: english, spanish, and three-year-old speech (a language that is rarely directed toward any one person, completely devoid of vocabulary and syntax but amazingly expressive by means of intonation alone).
Within the hour my brain felt no pain.
I posited a scientific theory. The green pill probably made my heart beat a little faster than it needed, sending excess oxygen to my head, numbing and buzzing the pain centers of my brain . . . or somesuch tumbling of physiologic dominos. But I quickly rejected it. The remedy must have been those thoughts of loved ones induced by child's play and sun colors.
The always consistant arc of Dave Weber's smile.
The broad stance and non-self-confidence confidence of Ethan Van Drunen giving smiles in exchange for life promotions.
Doug Harbin's genuine enthusiasm and child-like fascination with the bassoon.
My sister with bones loose in their skin, swept up in the current, sharing time and washing dishes.
posted by 4guys@14000ft @ 11:55 AM
13 Comments:
Can you tell me where to get one of those green pills???
nice post
i think you should bring back some green pills as well as ample supplies of coca, it will make for a good passover...
...but if you do get yellow eyes i will love you none the less
peace and happiness
662
Hasta la Victoria Siempre! Coca o muerte. Debes traer El Inca y La Pacena con la coca and "green pill" Quisiera saber si vas a comprar un otro mono? Bueno, me alegre que nos vemos en menos de dos semanas. Cuidate.
Manito tenuar comiste cuando pelos largos son calientes con ciudad agua con arroz fresca bob neider alrededor la frete del lapiz hasta nieve cuando almorzar me gusta jugar al futbol boligraficos.
-Weber
The pill may have something to do with the Matrix, but I'm not at liberty to say.
You write beautifully, by the way.
roland
dane_elec
a_80
gps
cage_aux
blanc
la_fete_des
val
noa_l
tb
collier_d
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serious question, if any author is still following this blog: can we have this web address? My wife and I are moving to El Alto with WMF & the Baker crew. We were trying out some new web addresses and found this one here.
Thanks,
Adam
thanks for the prompt reply! I really appreciate it. here's what I think:
log-in to blogger and get to your dashboard.
at "illimani says" blog, click settings.
click "permissions" on the sub-tab up top.
your google id should be there under "add authors" send me an invite to adamthada~at~gmail.com~dot~com
From there, I might be able to then delete you all as authors and re-do the blog for our purposes.
As for Ale 8 (which, as a multi-year attendee to Ichthus, I know about) we'll see!
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