pop will eat itself – eat me drink me love me kill me

Sorry about the break in transmission. I’ve not posted on here in a while. I’ve never really got on top of last year’s raging sickness. And last month’s NaNo damn near killed me!

I’ve never really got back on my feet since November, when I was sucker-punched by a couple of opportunistic viruses and drop-kicked back into Post-Viral Fatigue Syndrome. Basically, it’s an unearned hangover, one that lasts for months. The first time I had it, it took about a year to get my mojo back.

I didn’t understand what was happening to me. Weird symptoms that failed to fit together logically. I found it hard to listen to music, is generally a sign that I’m clinically dead.

Listening to rap or drum n bass felt like a particularly savage five-man mugging. Orchestral music felt like I was being gang-fucked by savages. The only thing that worked was film soundtracks – rudimentary themes, repeated often with slightly altered arrangements. I didn’t have the strength of mind to read or watch any kind of drama. That was on my own.

Outside, I found it almost impossible to communicate. Someone would address a comment at me and I’d struggle to dredge my memory banks for something to reply. Seconds would drag, my opponent’s eyes narrowing, trying to decide whether I was a victimless crime or not. Finally, I’d squeeze something out, feeling for all the world like a toddler, trying to formulate sentences and articulate something with zero vocabulary to back it up.

I spent about three months, dragging myself back into work for a couple of days, collapsing and then calling off sick again, unable to move or think. After that, I spent the next four months, flat on my back, staring at the ceiling and bored shitless, without sufficient strength to even top myself.

Post-Viral Fatigue Syndrome. I don’t recommend it to anyone.


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