Bug, bug, everywhere a bug, bug...

Long day at UBC working in the depths of the bunker-like Koerner LIbrary. Someone somewhere has greatly overcompensated or estimated the prowess of the militant student-population and both their propensity to use, as well as their ability to find weapons of mass boredom. The still dungeons of the library, deking you with a facade of polished glass and right angles, has done spectacularly well in incubating some virus dwelling in me for I am sjivering with aches and pains in as many joints that I cannot name and I have one of those achy premonitions that I am falling ill. Perhaps it's from Trish - she insists otherwise. Who knows? I know only that I am feeling unwell and my senses are shutting down and trying to tell e to rest, and here I am, glutton for punishment that I am, hanging on to the flimsy notion that my list living thoughts are important enough to jot down for all those few, if any, willing to sit and read through the festering pile of what my primary 6 English teacher would have called, "utter tripe". Don't you have something else to do Mr. Wambeck?

Burning up...