where the writers are
The Cold Front

Someone was deliberately inserting two flaming red pokers into my eye sockets and pressing them in until they struck my brain. 

It was not pleasant.

The burning eyes helped distract me from the folks planting meat cleavers into the back of my skull. I don't know why they were doing this.  Maybe they thought I'd done something to them.

Someone else was keeping me from breathing.  Rivers of sweat soaked my clothing and bedding. Felt good, sweating like that, but re-hydrating was required.  Apparently I wasn't sweating it all out, as hitting the latrine amended my hourly routines of coughing awake and drinking water, juice and herbal teas. 

The first night of this, I meditated on the problems.  Success!  All went away.  I stopped coughing.  The pokers and cleavers were removed, and my throat's raw scratchiness dissipated. But no, they'd just relocated to other body organs and locations, or had regrouped to return with greater impact.  Thereafter, the energy to meditate against issues fell apart. I just didn't have the energy to focus.

I called on The Writer to distract me through long hours.  He abandoned me, the swine.  All I do for him and this is how he treats me when I get a little sick.  Lost my voice, too, so couldn't write or speak.  How funny.  Running a computer was too much.  I read but only a few pages at a time.  Watched a lot of television, much Sandy news of winds and flooding, snowstorms, burned houses and power outages, putting my bedride into proper focus. 

Fevered hallucinations sent me rolling out of bed, searching frantically as I tried to remember, it's Thursday, I need to put three things out by ten AM, and racing around, running past my sister, looking for my wife.  Some sanity found a niche in my thinking.  That woman was my wife, not my sister, and that day was either Monday or Tuesday. It wasn't Thursday.

At last, today, late Wednesday, I'm out of bed, thinking clearly.  I'm rebuilding, watching eight or nine states rebuilding. The suffering out there was horrendous. 

Mine was just a little setback.