I am down with a virus or something that has caused me to lose my voice and kept me up coughing all night. However, I have finally obtained prescription cough syrup (with specific instructions to "use care with car-machines," which is a mistaken but delightful use of a hyphen).
David Baker, the poetry editor of The Kenyon Review, recommends that everyone write down one image a day: if I followed this as I ought, today's would be something like this. As I crawled from bed to the kitchen to rinse a water glass, I could hear the boys in the apartment next door tuning their electric guitars. The sound was low, ascending and descending, and the speakers were slightly static. I rinsed the glass under very hot water, then turned the water off and paused. The glass was still warm in my hands. I spun it back and forth as the guitar played something like a whalesong. As close to lovely as one may come after twenty-three hours of vague unconsciousness.
Also, I've discovered that this RJD2 video features a man named Bill Shannon who was born with a degenerative hip disease, who really rides a skateboard like this on his crutches! Thought I ought to share.