Wednesday without warning. Current temperature is 49 Fahrenheit, forecasted high is 61 degrees.

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Cheap today. Cheap and avoiding human contact. Canceled meetings. Canceled meals. Canceled love affairs. Leftover pizza in the fridge provides sustenance.

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There will always be the friendly dullards at the Evil Coffee Emporium. These folks still don't know what my drink is. Yesterday, I told the young, prematurely greying, undergraduate coffee technician that he had nice eyes. This flustered him. He made me the wrong drink, but offered to give me some of his free weekly coffee bean allowance.

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Last night at dinner, a companion and I consumed a pitcher of flat Pabst Blue Ribbon. Later we played Scrabble. I've never been much of a Scrabble player.

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Poetry Dailier plugs along strongly. If anyone wants to backchannel me with suggested poems, I'd be more than happy to consider them--I want this to be a somewhat democratic enterprise. Please, of course, don't send your own unpublished poems, but poems you really dig by people dead or living.

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Hacking cough. The chills. All winter I've had a lingering illness that leaves me tired, lazy, sometimes feverish, coughing, aching, and so forth. I'd think I were dying if it weren't for the fact that lots of other people seem to have something similar. I think there are a lot of minor "bugs" going around and I'm managing to catch every one of them.

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Back to bed with A. Baraka.