a nasty egg

found this scrawled on paper by my bed. it notes that it was the night before we went to ireland back in october, and that we had vegetable soup at maresa & jason's house.

A narrative history of an anarchist leader who got typhus. Laid over my own converns for my own health. This person was a teacher and came down with typhus but didn't die, but was the only one to contract the disease. In my dream, I'm headed for Flipside. I have an egg from there, raw, which I crack and carry in my hand for a while, then gobble down. It is foul, chewy, and nauseating. I'm still chewing it as I get to Flipside, which is downstairs in an office building with very 80's decor, lots of heavy wire grids and neon and overstuffed couches. I pass Todd, who has hade a sign that says the store will be focusing on other areas of town. I know I have typhus by this point, and I hope that Todd helps me quickly so I can leave before I give it to him. I sneeze as I go down the stairs and realize that I didn't cover my mouth. I want to buy a t-shirt and complain about the awful egg.