Music:the muted sounds of U2's Zooropa from the front room
Today was a bad, bad allergy day. The palo verde trees are blooming sheets of gorgeous yellow, but the clouds of pollen they release to the wind have many people around here in misery. I try to alternate my antihistamines in the hope of minimizing their tendency to make me either rage at the slightest provocation or resist every impulse to stay awake. I'm rediscovering the virtues of my teenage "speedball," which consists of pseudoephedrine and antihistamine taken together. Yesterday it was half a yellow pill and one red one. I was far more human than I would have been on the yellow pill alone. Today was worse so I tried a Benadryl and a red one. Even that hefty dose, however, was not equal to the task, so I opted to take a Claritin in the evening. What a mistake! Every time I take one of those I feel like I'm tripping on a hallucinogen whose sole hallucination is an abject self-image. I'm this close to scratching my skin until it bleeds. And I know, I mean I just know,hat I'd feel better with an open wound than I do right now. Somehow I don't think this is what Moses Mendelsohn, Immanuel Kant, and their fellow thinkers had in mind when they discussed the concept of Aufkläritung. This clearing is all bog and my shoes are soaked with slime.