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Hollow-Holler

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2004-03-11 - 11:47 p.m.

I babysat for a child today, who was feverish and strange with strep throat. I've never seen a child act these ways. I wanted to play 'school' with her, and while she was completely mobile and astute, she only wanted to lay there and look at the framed pictures on their hearth, from afar. She didn't want to watch any movies, but she was particularly fond of nuzzling her little head all about my shoulders and face, breathing the breath of the contaminated, while I knit her pale blue bows for her hair. She refused to eat anything, besides for cold cooked pasta with a pat of butter. And she had the gall to call me 'weird' when I poured 12 ozs of soda into a coffee mug. Amazing to watch her make an orchestra out of these two plastic sticks, though. She used one for a lone flute, two perpendicularly for the violin, one for a conducter, humming strains. Feverish inspiration.

I had a fever the other week, for two days. I rather like the feeling of a fever, if it weren't for the chills that usually accompany. Yellow mohair hood cinched about my chin, pulsating cheeks, a blurred vision, a magnetic nose. A fever is as animal as I come.

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