My Illness is My High

For those who have this cold that I seem to have picked up, what’s with the drug-like buzz that seems to be attached to it? I’m walking around feeling like what it must feel like to be stoned. I’ve never been stoned, so I’m working purely on subjection and theory with this.
On the plus side, it does feel good. Nothing really bothers you. Even the panhandler who was trying to push his damned newspaper on me to buy and then started shouting, “Stupid fucking cracker!” at the top of his lungs didn’t really get to me. He did start pushing my mellow yellowness when he kept following my up Ofarrell, but I managed to maintain the zone the rest of the way home.
The train ride back from Oroville was really cool. I just watched the colors whoosh by and sat back in a state of wonder. Did someone spike my afternoon tea or something? It’s a pretty wild ride, but it’s making it hard to keep all the cases straight in Croatian class if you know what I mean and don’t feel like you’re missing out on some party if you don’t. I’m just thankful for potpuna njega i zaštita osjetljivih usana that I picked up in Zagreb last April.