060105 #human later that same day I'm queasy, bleary, snuffly, aching; my love handles jiggle; I can't smell right and I probably DON'T smell right; I've wasted most of my week alone, and I'm still behind in my class; every time I belch I want to puke; and along the side of my nose inside is a boil -- or a gin blossom? -- the size of that car that sat there, hood up, blackened, old, in the middle of the middle lane of the highway this morning, while everybody struggled to find the quickest way to get around it and get going, on to wherever it is we were all going before that derelict piece of junk that could be us next time slowed us down and made us put on our brake lights one right after another. As I passed, I got a glimpse of the car's erstwhile driver. He was just sitting there. Just sitting there.