picture of a trainwreck; sorry no makeup

day 18,

      to document the dictionary;

truly hideous after covid, I look like death

crawling from the tomb ....



often I am aware on this journey that I am being guided

often in my work those moments are acutely made aware

a sense the other night

It was some time between wake and sleep or still sleep when I felt him; I felt as if the sun was coming into the room and I was with him —just like the first time I dreamed of him, this time I felt his arms around me .....and it seemed then it would be all right and I went back to sleep

I didn’t wonder if I was asleep or if it was dream or real as it was most real



as I start to become stronger and realize the last two weeks are a blur that seems to me not so long, I must have been sleeping through most of it without knowing how many days it was


only I find I don’t like what the world has been up to and wonder even more with a worse heavy sense what I am doing in it and think I’d rather stay in my tomb 

Some More thoughts

it was one weekend, about two weeks ago or so— no —more, that about a hundred vehicles came up from New York City— five and a half hours away to drive. In less then a week we went from no cases to our first case. By the end of two weeks we had over 80. Somehow I suspect for me it arrived through the mail as it attaches to fibers like paper and cardboard. Anything like plastic and stainless steel too. 

I’ve had no contact with anything —then one day I got the mail, as I tend to avoid things like that —and I didn’t feel good from that day on, each day it got worse. 

I am still not feeling well. It seems to relapse and ....before my chest hurt really bad —as it got hard to breath

....I think it passed

They say it is worse at night and I think I’m scared of night right now

in history class I used to think I could hear the voices of the people from the plague 

between hallucinations it occurred to me how easy we slip into history 

forgive my madness and disregard if I make no sense 

it is my need to record thoughts somehow to make sense of later....it has been such a strange and dangerous kind of nightmare but I’m still breathing— and I know this is a blessing 

 ....there were moments I did not feel quite alive yet, I am 

such strange and profound visions —and experiences

how does something like this travel all the way from China without a passport? 

pass over; dodge dogma....

and sometimes, I swear, I can feel the voices all the way from China ....

but am still not myself; insanely, so weak— so tired 

....something seems to have shifted deep within me —and it feels, there seems more urgency —to say 

.... please, be ok

writings on the wall

day 7 or twelve not sure what today is or since onset


document:


very cold dizzy hard to breath

no more convulsions

hallucinate in between




the weight of my phone is enormous but need distraction

some grip on news of the world; the individual verses the greater elite whole and worry for

the vulnerable

Russian roulette protect the vulnerable use logic think for yourself be strong stay alive

the weight of my phone is enormous but it is less then what Orwell’s time machine would be

I know I will keep on ....

writings on the wall

....stay alive

notes on the wall



it is clear that I am ill. the cold is so bad. it hurts

the shaking .... is worse 

Between the passages; notes of a lost dictionary

and so I have not been feeling well

I have had no problem with isolation as that as a rule being what they call my type (INFJ)

but who knows how these things get around

they say movement excites the cells or something .... I don’t know but

I have said nothing of it and kept it to myself as some are only carriers

last night I had a fright because I couldn’t breath and then I was shaking and I thought I was dying and I got scared because I want to see my daughter again so ..... well

I don’t know if she reads my blog often but I know she does sometimes....

so she should know I miss her and miss writing our stories together and I don’t know if she can still feel me squeezing her hand but I do as I’ve not let go

such is life in the twenty first century .... history documented on public walls

to anonymous strangers sharing the time on the planet

like pages blown across a subway floor of a lost voice

like that caveman with the art .... that he left on the wall of a story of his life

maybe it was a woman

and maybe it was about a man with vampire eyes

because of a promise or something that goes beyond life and time or maybe it was just a message hidden in code intended for just the one champion who could solve it; so be it