. . . sometimes the words go and an idea is a gesture: hands parallel, palms down, slapped together = flat. the soda is flat. i need a new one or i will choke on my pills. i wonder how fast ASL would become intuitive to me? or is it a matter of what is, pardon the pun, to hand? . . .
. . . i have just said to my mother “my knuckles aren’t working today” because the opening of anything sealed will hurt. at present, fine motor functions are just not. lest you wonder, i am typing with my hands held fairly flat, fingers bent as little as possible . . .
. . . muzzy, so muzzy; i can’t seem to concentrate on anything. not well. once i have my valerian, all bets are off. i slept eleven hours, then two. it feels like i might sleep again before too long . . .
. . . spikes, it’s like spikes driving into the spaces between the joints . . .
. . . i should take that valerian soon.