Thursday

I woke up feeling curiously fine. I made myself breakfast and meditatively ate my cereal on the roof, watching the sun come up over the palm trees. (only a few more days!) I was going down the stairs when the Creeping Death hit me. Uh oh.

I have no idea whether it was food or alcohol (for god's sake, never, ever drink anything electric blue), but I spent the entire day straight-arming the death angel in my bed. It was just as unpleasant as you might imagine. I happened to have been surviving primarily on cereal for the past few days (dinner keeps on being egg curry and ew no), so I didn't have much to actually barf up, but the sheer evil feeling was more then enough.

I was vaguely aware at one point that Alicia and Flo came to get me for work, but unfortunately at that juncture I was actually too sick to drag myself out of bed and to the door so I could croak "PASSING OFF WORK ON ACCOUNT OF FATAL ILLNESS." So they had to wait around until they figured out I was not so much with the alive. Then I think they left for work.

I slipped in and out of black-death inspired conciousness for a few hours until 2:00 came around, when I made a mysterious but total recovery. I gingerly had yet more cereal for lunch (Kellogs is gonna make some serious rupees off me), then hobbled down to the internet cafe to make sure the world had gone on turning without me (it had.) I ran into Nimi and Carli and joined them at the Breeze....I watched them eat and sipped some Coke. I really had no desire to anger my system more then totally necessary .

The girls planned to visit the Fuga club that night but I decided it might be better to just go to the Night Boozer with Jimmy, Arvin and Phil instead. I had a light dinner of tandoori pomfret at the Breeze (unfortunately it was about a two bite fish so I was hungry after), then came back to collect the guys. Phil and I had a deep, profound conversation about stupid cartoons of our respective childhoods, then we all went down Thippasandra for our nightly commune with the Old Monk. (I held off. Pretty much.)

We returned with six beers for the new guy, who's called Casy and is from Boston. He went to boarding school in the Berkshires. We probably know the same people.