I have never hated cigarette smoke as much as I did Thursday night. Going to work in a smoky bar is a bad idea when you have a cold and a sore throat.

The band I was mixing was the Mellotones. The first set wasn’t so bad. I felt relaxed, and I was getting into it. The drugs helped.

By the end of the second set, however, I couldn’t stop coughing. Then I had to get up and run to the bathroom because I was beyond coughing, I was choking. I couldn’t breathe.

Finally the band took a break, and I headed towards the back door to get some fresh air. The door opened as I was approaching and Dexter Doolittle walked in. I ran towards him in fake slow-motion and threw my arms around him. “Dexter!” Boy was I glad to see him.

I wound up taking out my wallet and throwing forty bucks at Dex so he would mix the band’s last set for me, so I could go home. Forty bucks an hour for a sound technician? Obviously I was quite delirious.

I got Dex to cover my Friday shift too. I left the Marquee and went home and got in bed and stayed there for fourteen hours. I was quite the wreck.

Then Gerry came over and got me up and we went out for burgers. I had to walk very slowly, and bright lights hurt my eyes.

Meat… the best medicine.

I spent the evening lying in bed. I curled up with my iBook, Vickers purring beside me, and wrote this.