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these days i want only to float face-down in lukewarm water, not lift my head to breathe. everything is so slow, nothing really changes. names change, faces change, but they're all just substitutes: food for my pre-oedipal complex. or something. even new theories mean little now, and class never did mean much. friendships start to look like spare change, and even Foucalt's Bodies and Pleasures is no longer pleasurable. but lukewarm water seems like such a nice idea, almost like being back in mother. i've had the flu for a week, with a temperature of over 103ºF and that was almost good enough, but i got over it.
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