I am listening to monks chanting. I am hoping it will calm me and help me fall asleep again. I have a Winamp playlist of “insomnia songs” – it includes monks chanting, rain falling, some Satie, Mozart, Chopin, Beethoven, Delibes and the mother of all relaxation music (I’m almost embarrassed to say), Enya.

It seems that the maximum period of efficacy for Theraflu “severe congestion” formula is approx. 4 hours since I downed a cup of lemony death at around 10 and was able to fall asleep, breathing clearly. Now I am awake, unable to breathe.

Birds are chirping and I have to take the early (7:45) train to work since I have an all-day seminar that begins at 9.

In the meantime, I just found a poem by William Butler Yeats (rhymes with “dates” not “eats”) called “Beggar to Beggar Cried”:

‘Time to put off the world and go somewhere
And find my health again in the sea air,’
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
‘And make my soul before my pate is bare.-
‘And get a comfortable wife and house
To rid me of the devil in my shoes,’
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
‘And the worse devil that is between my thighs.’
And though I’d marry with a comely lass,
She need not be too comely – let it pass,’
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
‘But there’s a devil in a looking-glass.’
‘Nor should she be too rich, because the rich
Are driven by wealth as beggars by the itch,’
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
‘And cannot have a humorous happy speech.’
‘And there I’ll grow respected at my ease,
And hear amid the garden’s nightly peace.’
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
‘The wind-blown clamour of the barnacle-geese.’

Dear Diary: today is not going to be fun.

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