This morning my right lung feels gross and the rattling cough has been happening. I fear the future, but I just try to have fun anyway, though I may look glum at times, and feel somewhat glum. My vocals aren’t half what they used to be, I could hear distinctly in the video I posted above of myself singing Champagne Problems. Yup, no one believes me, but I’m screwed, with a mold infection of my right lung. It’s extremely real and definite to me, regardless of it not showing up on x-rays. I don’t know when it will spread, or how it will spread, but I’m expecting it to, and the organ I most want it to leave alone, is my brain, but I know from a little research that it probably will eventually spread there, and I won’t be surprised if it gets mistaken for further schizophrenia, though I know that schizophrenia was temporary for me. I’m sane now and the only way I will go insane again is if my brain sustains physical trauma, such as the mold infection invading it. My lung seems to be calming down now, again. I wonder if I’ll make it to enjoy the November art showing. That’s my current goal post; having a good time exhibiting some Morrissey portraits, the ones I’m willing to sell, all prints I think, unless I’m thinking at the time that I’ll be soon at death’s door, in which case maybe I will put the originals up for sale, and the painting of the fawn. Well, it’s about time now to write morning pages. Toodles.
