Wednesday, April 20, 2011
I've been out flat and sick with the flu for over almost two weeks. Not a chance to pick my head up much, but many movies were watched. Many many many many movies:
Mesrine: Killer Instinct
These were among my favorites. The rest I can't really remember, an homage to how drugs can really work.
After the 7th day, I started to feel not just feverish and exhausted from coughing, but like a loser for not moving. Not lifting a finger except to down cough syrup or change the channel (Did you know Oprah is ending?) or, when Jim wasn't home, make tea or open a can of soup. By the eighth day the doctor was summoned and he said, " Hey dummy (because we're on a first name basis), it's time for antibiotics. I can't do much for your bruised rib (from coughing a lot) except take a bunch of advil too." Then, Jim finally stopped his work spree and came home with my new prescriptions. And on the same day, as if by magic, a good friend came by and made the most magical of cures, her family recipe and the sentiment and the soup worked wonders.
These are my American Shamans.
On Jim's birthday in Paris we went to the Musée du quai Branly, the museum of anthropology that sits right below the Eiffel Tower. I love this place. I got lost in the mystical, close-to-the-earth adornments from the Pacific rim, the Native Americans, and tribes from all over Africa and South America. Shadow puppets that tell ancient tales, masks and amulets and talismans aka "magic bundles" that ward off sickness and evil spirits.
This moves me to believe I am doing something all wrong. Or maybe that I could be doing something more right. With more care or more attention or maybe more cowbell.
at 1:09 PM