It's been a crap month and frankly, I'm pretty happy to see the back of September. It started out fairly promising - I came off the roids after 2 months and spring did the thing ... but it just seemed as though nothing could really get any traction and then I caught a flu. Although there's not medical concensus that colitis is an auto-immune disease, I can tell you that my GBS thought it would be *great* to join in with the flu and so I got two for the price of one.
I couldn't write about it at the time, but I was saddened and depressed by David Foster Wallace's suicide. If he couldn't hack it .... well, he's a lot smarter than me, so maybe I'm going to be ok living with the great existential abyss a while longer. After all, I seem to be able to happily live alongside it so far.
Some good news, a new mattress, which should really get an entry all to itself, yes it should. The new novel by Neal Stephenson has arrived and I have excitedly read the first few pages, but am holding off until my health has recovered - don't enter into his later works unprepared peeps! Looks goooooooood!!
Time for me to take more medicine and lie down quietly somewhere.