I dare say I hope it is the abraisive dry air that did it. My nose is menstruating, and dryness may be the cause. There are other symptoms,too, of near death,though. Aches, discharges, swellings. I love the way self and outside merge to feed hypochondria.
I'm running through cause and effect relations like a Burroughs adding machine. The cough corresponds to smoking Lucky's for a couple days, while having a common cold. it's a cold. Might be malignant dipshitoma
or a hereditary thick rope and tall tree branch. This is the trillionth time I pictured dying homeless after the hospital seizes my house.
The shooting spree of yesterday, at a psyche hospital of all places (try a new course of therapy?) reminds how guns take the skill out of violence. Richard Speck used a knife. The Boston Strangler wormed his way into people's heart before using his hands, like a tradesman. Now people just shoot, like a big baby. Most are too lazy to stalk victims. They just show up like a fifteen year old party crasher. I was in bed with a common cold that sunny afternoon, and the whole news hour was about the former patient who seems not to have recovered.
The nose bleed I'm reactivating each time I blow my nose must be some type of portent. Must walk through a deep cavern, sure footed against viscous ooze. I spielunk in my own sinus cavity, climb with rope and petons the wet nostrils. The parts of the psyche lost to time and technical advancement are hiding in germy caves. So sad to be sick. Death. Malaise. Feelings of failure and dissatisfaction.