Into the great wide open

I just left the house for the first time in three days and wow did I need to do that. I was going stir-crazy in here, but really, this has been the most debillitating cold I've had in recent years -- thank goodness it didn't last too long. Today I felt better, finally, and the "fresh" air was amazing. I felt like John Travolta at the end of "The Boy in the Plastic Bubble", though as I recall he emerged from said bubble into a pastoral world of flowering fields and pristine beaches, not a congested block of construction and cab exhaust. Still -- that was about as exhilerated as I've felt in days.

Someone on my floor is cooking bacon. I've heard from several ex-vegetarians that that was the craving that finally pushed them over the edge. Several years ago -- actually, several lifetimes ago -- on my drive across country with my then-love, we stopped off to visit friends in Fort Collins, Colorado. The Mrs. was a recently reformed vegetarian who had heeded the salty, crispy siren's song ... and had since gone the other extreme. I have a vivid memory of her pulling a tray from the oven piled high with burnt strips and offering it to her kid, "More bacon, Jacob?"

Since my bout of illness began I've had some really bizarre, vivid dreams, including the funeral at which Tom Waits (and Madonna) performed. Others: I witnessed a horrible car accident in which one car literally crumbled into another and disappeared; the driver and passenger of the second car were fine, but we all knew not to look back at what what probably lying in the road. I dreamt that my hairstylist (God I hope he never happens upon this) had a side business of giving erotic massages in what looked to be the art studio from my high school; I dreamt that several people I know commuted to work via Coney Island roller coaster ... not the Cyclone which, as I recall, offered almost no shock absorption. This seemed to be a much smoother ride.

I feel like writing tonight and would love to write more here but should probably get to work on a few of the many assignments looming over me. Has my muse returned? I don't want to jinx it by assuming it has, so I'll just go with the flow until the flow is no more.