huggists inc.

if i can cook, i can do anything.

clad in my underwear, leaving pieces of toilet paper, now dried from night old boogers and snot behind in bed, i wrapped a thin shawl around my body. hot, from the fever. or was it from the spiritual afternoon dream? of me carrying my bike around in circles, in search for a bike trail... i see it, but never get on it. i make two more rounds carrying my bike-- like a superstition. a kora i must perform in odd numbers.

but i have never been able to dream lucidly. one day. one day.

i made it to the kitchen. a sick body must eat. to perform. to fight. the pollen. i chopped green beans into perfect cylinders. chopped carrots into rounder, more comforting circles, then i popped a potato in the pressure cooker. american potatoes are hard to cook. the core is always raw. always tough. after it's done, i dice it up, nice and soft.
(soft, it's been the word of the week.)

then i cooked a cup of long grain brown rice in my hot red rice cooker. waited. chopped onions and garlic. when the rice was done, stirred it up with a tiny white spatula.

i took a pot and poured a little olive oil. browned the garlic and the onions. added the carrots, then the green beans, then the potatoes, then rice. added some vegetable broth. salt. pepper. brought it to boil.

soup for the sick. soup for the hungry.

if i can cook, i can do anything.

the food ran down to my stomach and eventually satiated my soul. i neti potted the shit out of my nose and crawled into bed. cramped. curled. grabbed a few painkillers. threw the blankets away, then groped for them and bundled up- on repeat. built a fortress around me with a single other pillow. held it against my cheek and mouth and my entire left side, as i groaned into it.

i wished for ama.

they say i give good hugs. i need one right now. one that stills my spine. opens my chest. warms my fevers to sweat. i wish self hugs were half as good. my torso's too big for my arms to wrap around.

i really ought to start that group. the huggists group. free lifetime (international) membership. join me. and no, we shall not be wearing any diapers. sorry.