I caught the flu. I was vaccinated last November but, I also know those things don’t always last. Also, I’ve been a little worn down so it should come as no surprise that my immune system let one slip through. I could get political about this. What with RFK in office and the refusal to allow the yearly meeting of flu vaccine doctors/experts to determine next year’s best guess at protecting the herd that is the United States population… but right now my little electric meatloaf is a little fried. So fried that I wrote a post about it. The only thing I’ve accomplished today, actually. Besides sleep and pumping in a lot of fluids. Enjoy?

(Please be aware, all of this was written mid 103 temperature. What seemed really funny to me at the time, probably doesn’t translate the same)

Am I struggling with the words and the thinking? As my Minnesotan conclave would say, “oh yea, sure, you betcha”. So I thought I might document the exchange inside my overheated brain while I was living it. For posterity. And a laugh. I mean, I think it’s funny as hell. But it’s also…not. Is this how schizophrenia starts?

Me: Okay brain, Listen. I know you’re having a rough time of it right now. Lot of pain, lot of general unpleasantness. The thing is, I really need you to work on this presentation and speech we have to give next week.

Brain: No prob, my main man. I got this. You just point me in the direction of…

Me: Brain?

Brain: Hmm? Sorry, why does my left big toe hurt, like really bad?

Me: It’s the flu. Its normal. You’re not going to die.

Brain: Oh, really? Tell that to my phalange! Fuck should I try to pop it?

Me: No brain, just…hang in there, it will go away.

Brain: Oh—oh you’re right. Huh. Whew, that’s so much—Sweet baby Jesus, my back!

Me: Brain! Can you try to focus, Here. Here’s a heating pad and your favorite jammies and lots of pillows. Let’s just bang out a quick…

Brain: Jammmmmmiiiiieeessss…nap time we must.

Me: No! Brain—Come on man, focus. Just the outline. Let’s just get the outline written.

Brain: Right, right. Work, big talk. Lots of people. We hate lots of people though, right? Staring at us?

Me: They asked us to be there. We submitted the proposal, they accepted it.

Brain: jammmmmiiiieesss.

Me: Brain!

Brain: Why can’t I keep my right eye open? Oh look, I can switch them off. But I don’t get the two at once.

Me: *sigh* Can we just focus? Ten minutes.

Brain: Yes. Absolutely.

Me: Wait, is that Instagram? Are you opening Instagram?

Brain: I just need a little treat, thinking about work and being berated is so stressful.

Me: I didn’t—

Brain: Look at the miniature donkeys!

Me: Yes, yes, very cute. They will be there after you finish the outline.

Brain: Oh the outline, that’s right…we have work to do…So I shouldn’t…swiiiiippe!?

Me: Goddamn it, Brain,

Brain: What is it about Scottish toddlers cursing that makes my whole heart believe in the goodness of humanity.

Me: No—no don’t laugh!

*coughing fit ensues, pain shoots everywhere, gunk comes out of my mouth. Me and my brain stare at it in fascination and horror*

Brain: I don’t like this. This is dumb. I’m tired now.

Me: How about just three bullet points.

Brain: Fuck you, do you know how hot it is in here? Can’t you open a window or something? I’m baking.

Me: Open a—what like trepanation?

Brain: pfff! HA, that’s not a word.

Me: Look it up, hot stuff.

Brain: *types several renditions of trepanation until spell check has mercy on us* Jesus christ you want to cut a hole into me? What are you a barbarian? Fucking anthropologist. Why do you remember that of all the things? Of all the classes?

Me: It’s supposed to ease the pressure!

Brain: Ever heard of a decongestant you fucking savage?

Me: *Quietly sobs from couch* Can we please just get a little work done?

Brain: *gives haughty look over the phone at me* No. You wanted to perform ancient brain surgery on us. Look at this.

Me: *sighs* what?

We stare at the screen together at a poem by Mary Oliver

I do know how to pay attention,
how to fall down, into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass.
How to be idle and blessed.
How to stroll through the fields which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me what else I should have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last and too soon?
Tell me what it is you plan to do with your one wild and precious life.

pause

We look into the screen that’s gone blank and dark. Into our flushed complexion and glassy eyes. Begging for rest. To kneel down in the grass. To pray to this body that is, right now, fighting battles we cannot know the extent of. While I stand on the sidelines of the fray and shout… ‘but my outline!’

ME: Hey, Brain. Wanna take a nap?

Brain: Fuck yes I do….jammmmiiieesss…