Well! That was an interesting headache yesterday! Moi says migraines, "feel like steel bolts are being driven thru your skull." What I had yesterday only felt like an icicle had spontaneously formed in my right parietal lobe. But it remained a constant companion throughout the day, and at one point I realised my cognisance was being truncated by it in such a way as to render my perceptions and comprehension simpler than normal. I felt like a child. Especially when I was driving, and I accidentally careened off some trash cans.
My attempts at lunch kept being thwarted by invisible forces. I'd made a comment on Spooky's journal mentioning In and Out Burger's grilled cheese sandwiches, so naturally I wanted one. But halfway there, I realised I'd left Olivia the cat's medicinal food outside the refrigerator it was supposed to be in. So I turned around and the bad traffic made the short journey nearly an hour long. Then I visited Marty, who made an offhand remark about Mexican food, so I suddenly needed Taco Bell. Traffic was strange, and the effort to dodge, Frogger-like, the multitude of slow, enormous vehicles, almost had me missing Taco Bell entirely. It was only when I was forced to park a distance away, and had walked across the enormous parking lot, that I realised I ought to've simply walked to the authentic Tacos mi Pueblo. But it'd been four hours since I'd gotten hungry, and it needed tending.
I didn't get In and Out until around 10:30pm. This was after watching Eraserhead for the first time in years, and maybe it was the best thing I could have done in my headache. See, the pain was sort of like an egg yoke sloshing 'round, and I was only really aware of it when it hit the sides of my head. So keeping still during the quiet, fascinating strangeness of Eraserhead worked well.
I watched the great special "Stories" feature, which is simply David Lynch smoking a cigarette and rambling about film school and his old friends. This put me, somehow, back in the mood for In and Out Burger, so I went, and marvelled at how the french fries were so warm, and the Coke was so cold.
This whole silly zen-child state finally broke when I said something to Robyn about Baby Sasquatch. I could feel the icicle crack and abruptly melt, the cold water trickling down through my grey matter.
To-day, I simply feel muffled, like I'm wearing a stocking cap five sizes too small.
To-morrow, on C-SPAN:
White House Correspondents' Association Dinner
Apr 29 05:00pm
President George W. Bush and Stephen Colbert speak.
This could be interesting.