Posted 4 years, 8 months ago in the wee hours by oso
I am sick. Sick as a dog. A dead one. Which is why I keep fucking up. I can’t do anything right anymore.
Last night I slept. I slept from 9 p.m. to 9:15 a.m. That’s a lot of slept. And then you know what I did from noon until 2:30? I slept.
During all of that slepting I had dreams, crazy ones. At one point I was on a road trip. It was during the nineteen twenties, the dream was in sepia, and three gorgeous women were accompanying me on my road trip. Three women who I greatly wanted to be in the same hotel room with. I remember that part of the dream. I also remember that we were in a big city. I want to say Chicago, but that would be embellishment.
And get this, I walk out of the hotel (the bastard refuses to give me a room for me and my three gorgeous companions) and I look down and there is a brick in the road with the engraving: Jose Manuel Tesoro. That is the name of the East Asia Regional Editor at Global Voices, a person I’ve never met face to face in my life. Actually, Jose Tesoro goes by Joel and covers East Asia. David Sasaki goes by Oso and covers Latin America. Obviously whoever is in charge of this thing is off their rocker.
Anyway, there is this sense that I should be doing some investigative work to uncover why Joel’s name is engraved in a brick in a street in a big city in the 1920’s in my dream. But then there are the three gorgeous women and a hotel room to be had and Joel, my dear friend, in dreams as in life there are priorities.
You may be wondering what I was doing between 9:15 a.m. and noon, otherwise known as the awake part of the day. OK, so you weren’t wondering, but I’m going to tell you. Georgia and I had been asked to come on to a BBC radio show called Have Your Say in order to … well, I guess we were supposed to have our say. Georgia did lovely as was to be expected, but I was so worried about sneezing or snotting on my microphone that I sounded like an abusive gym coach barking at uninterested school children. When asked whether people in Latin America had been blogging about the weather I replied with force, “yes, yes they have.”
Speaking of Georgia, it’s depressingly well documented that people like me do not deserve friends like her. What is the one thing that oso likes to do when he is sick? He likes to crawl into a warm place, drink warm tea, and read a good book. Thanks to Georgia and my grandmother I’m about to do exactly that. In fact, I’m half way there. Sorry for bringing you all into bed with me, but I am an affectionate bear. And who knows what dreams I may have tonight.
Back on point: I got home from work about 30 minutes ago and a couple of packages were waiting at my door. The first was from my grandmother who, remembering my whining about the cold, sent me a hot water bottle and a robe. I can’t begin to tell you how pimp I look in this sleeping robe. It’s green plaid! My chest hair sticks out! All I’m missing are three girls and a Chicago hotel room. And this water bottle, heavenly jesus, what an invention. It’s my first time using one of these things so I hope I’m doing it right. It’s so damn hot that I don’t quite know where to put it. Right now it’s a few inches to the side. You know, like the first 15 minutes of when a “friend” is “just sleeping over” because she is “too tired to drive.” But this water bottle, she’s something, I’m about to put my arm around her right after I press publish.
The second package was from Georgia: a book she had recommended to me entitled Samba by Alma Guillermoprieto. Important people speak highly of this book. And it’s 200 pages! Thank god. The books I’ve been reading lately have been encyclopedic. So my plan is to stay up for the next four hours drinking tea, urinating often, and reading from front to cover Samba.
Check out the surf last week:
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Os, find yourself some caldo de pollo gets lots of sleep and keep drinking liquids, mion.
I spent my entire holidays with familia and I hardly remember it because I did the same as you sleep and sleep and then some more. I hope you’re doing better for New Years.
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Heh heh. That’s because, if you recall, we had started sleuthing around the Interweb to locate my great-grandfather’s old pad at “Cardones torre” in Gracia. We found one potential location, but you didn’t get the chance to go there and match it to the old postcards.
I think your subconscious is tying up what it thinks is unfinished business from Barcelona. Because, for all we know, had you gone to Passeig, you might have ended up in an Arturo Perez-Reverte novel.
I couldn’t finish Samba, and my wife couldn’t either. Our theory is that Alma, though she’s mastered the New Yorker-length reportorial essay, can’t sustain the book-length narrative.
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That is how I felt a couple weeks ago. So. not. fun. I hope you get better soon! I like these rambling random thought posts. Keep ‘em coming!
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Sounds like you’re about on par with the rest of us vacationers–I’ve been on like a two-week slepting binge since my classes let out. I figure it makes up for the rest of the year when we substitute sleep with stimulants. Hope you feel better, mijo.
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Rest a lot and I hope you feel much better.
Sopa de pollo, a bit of avocado, tortillas, sour cream and lots of hot pepper. Sopa Azteca is god’s gift to mankind’s colds.
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Bummer about the cold and the uncooperative hotel clerk. Are you still ill? I’m glad you have Bona Drag to keep you warm (although not the most uplifting; try bengali in platforms from viva hate). How do we hear the interview?
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Are you the mocoso sick or the pedo mojado sick? In either case, 7UP and some vapo-rub will have up and running in no time.
If that doesn’t work, go to the mercado and ask for the chochitos. Those cure anything.
Take advantage of the slept, though. Slept is good.
Cuidate!
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Sr. Oso, what a funny dream. Tonight you will probably discover in your dreams why was that name there, the message behind all that.
I have also heard great things about that book.
If you have access to raw milk, drink some…that will cure you in no time.
Hugs and Happy New Year!
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Hey David,
If you come up to Davis, Antonia and I will cook you something to make you feel better. Get well soon. And I get crazy dreams when I’m sick as well.
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EMC and Medea,
I took your advice and had some Sopa Azteca from Porkyland. That probably sounds horrible to those not familiar with Porkyland, but it really did the trick. Chris can vouch for Porkyland’s quality.
Joel,
I did realize the source of the dream … sorta. You gotta admit though, it’s still pretty weird.Captain Alatriste seems like it good be a good read.
Eliz,
There’s definitely a virus making it’s way around the net. Rolando’s got it too.
Doc,
Very good point about the stimulants. It feels so good not to be drinking any coffee, alcohol, and whatever other substance comes my way. Of course, that streak will be over come saturday night.
swervecurve,
I am still ill. Ill-fonix. They stream the program for a day after it’s recorded. I was going to record it on mp3, but then I was so uninterested in hearing how silly I sounded that I forgot about it.
Xolo,
Ando oso mocoso. I wasn’t sure what chochitos were, but they certainly do look like they could cure anything.
Melissa,
If a cow udder gets within 10 feet of me, I promise to suck on it
Greg,
Nothing I’d like more than to be nursed to health by you and Toni. Instead, I will stare hungrily at your blog.
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Awwwwwwww. Pobre, Oso.
I hope you are feeling better. 
Do this:
Get an egg from the refridgerator and rub the egg all over your body. Then crack the egg into a small clear glass of water and put it under your bed so we can all see if you have ojo.
J/K. I hope you are good and you get back to your regular substances like caffeine. I need to make caffeine in injectible form, que no?
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*Refrigerator (sp)
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i love you. get well. let’s cuddle.
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Poor Oso. If I were in San Diego, I’d make you some hot brandy with cinnamon and cloves in it. Cures anything.
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LOL @ DD and the egg
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Ohh Ostio, you poor thing. I’d forgotton how much I missed reading your blog until I had the time to really read an entry (not just skim). YOu poor sweet thing you deserve better…well better in terms of not being sick but in terms of a sweet grandma who sends pimping bath robes and cool emails to you…well of that I am jealous.
BTW I like the rotating faces up top…even though when mine comes up it says error! hrrumph.
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You guys are the greatest. With your loving comments and my second bowl of sopa azteca, I’m well on my way to normalcy. So much so that I’m gonna head up to LA tomorrow to get rowdy with my peeps.
DD,
No sabia que eres cura. Your suggestion brought me back to my days of Acambaro, Guanajuato where I endured raw eggs and more thanks to some street tortas and a nasty stomach virus.
Shimonkey,
Do I get hot brandy when you get back? I can feign sickness if needs be.
Rayluv,
If you woulda come down to Los for New Year’s I woulda given you some good cuddling. Then again, your 323 ladies woulda gotten upset. My yankee guy friends tell me they love me and my argentinean guy friends give me a kiss on the cheek. The post-homophobia era is so great. Even HP sends me besos.
EM,
I’m glad you’re back blogging. I know what you mean about blog skimming. I have to do it for Global Voices. There’s no way I could read so many blogs if I read them at normal pace. But then sometimes I keep skimming even when I’m reading the blogs of my friends. I gotta remind myself to slow down and enjoy what I always enjoy … like the difference between how black people and white people make cool aid.
I still want to know what chochitos are.
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I answer your question on my blog as well as offering you a tasty recipe that should help you get over any lingering symptoms.
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Oso, I’ve never been so entertained by someone’s illness in my life… I hope you feel better, but I love those crazy “I’m sick and sleeping for 12 straight hours” dreams.
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Xolo,
Hilarious.
Joel,
Thanks man. I’m feeling much better know so the hallucinatory humor is out the door. Have a great new years.
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At least you weren’t sick while on vacation, nor did you have to get an inyección in the ass.
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Cindylu,
Amen sista. Who was it that said the automatic treatment for the simple flu is three shots – with three inch needles – in the ass? I’m all for bio-anthropolgical diversity and cultural sovereignty, but someone needs to set these people straight on the fact that ass stabbing has gone out of vogue.
Also, what up with Latino flu-foot fetish? When I’m sick – as when I’m well – I don’t wear shoes. No big thing amongst my anglo friends. But if one of my friends down in Mexico catches me barefoot, it’s as if I just stepped on a landmine: “Ai mijo! Mirate! Todo resfriado y andas descalzo. Andale, ponte zapatos!”
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Oso,
Well the prick of the needle barely felt like anything, and I did begin to feel better. I tend to get really bad colds that last for a couple of weeks, but after I got the shot I stopped having a cough/sore throat and only had to deal with lots of sneezing. And damn, my nose hurts ’cause I didn’t have tissue paper and that Mexican toilet paper is rough!
I actually used to get yelled at all the time by my mom and dad, and still do, for walking around barefoot at home. We have tile and it does get cold, but I like being barefoot too. But in Mexico the floors feel even colder, maybe you have thick skin on your patas de oso, but when I’m sick I do take care not to walk around barefoot.
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Just the other night I dreamt I was in the same room as EMC, who I’ve never met in my life and only know about from his comments on your blog. In my dream, he was a midget with a huge head and that we were communicating only through IRC on our respective laptops
The reason I think my brain thought he was a midget is that my only image of him is his head on his gravatar and my brain could not imagine his voice, hence the IRC.
You see what you started.
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The other week Melissa said I made an appearance in a dream of hers with a green-legged woman. I think it’s good that we visit each other in our sleep. Besides, IRC always seems more surreal to me than any dream I’ve ever had.
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