Monday

Last night I choked down my last fistful of typhoid; today I returned to the institute for round two of my marathon inoculation schedule. Just two shots, today. The first was a second refrigerated helping of Kool-Aid magenta attenuated rabies. It was delivered into my right arm with a warning from the RN: whatever effects--like muscle stiffness, soreness, etc.--I'd suffered after last week's dose might increase this time around. Tut, tut; I was too tough to notice any side effects last week. For dessert I was given a subcutaneous injection of Japanese encephalitis, a boring clear disease refrigerated in glass vials rather than tricked-out syringes. This burns when it goes in, said the RN as it went in. I felt nothing. This vaccination required sticking around the office another half-hour so the RN could observe any skin reactions. Is this so they can rush me to a colony at the first sign I might become infectious? I'm too tough to become infectious: I was released in time for two movies before dinner. That dinner was eaten at the deeply odd Asian Bistro around the corner from the Silver Theater. I love this tiny, sideways pan-Asian space. When I eat here, I flip straight through the Chinese and Thai pages to order from the Japanese menu. The sushi is solid and the sake comes in a pot of hot water. The broad view of the stainless steel Discovery Channel building dominates one wall. The smoke machine at the register burbles like an Amazon thicket. Tonight, the Muzak included Don't Cry for Me, Argentina in tinkling piano. After a dinner of rainbow maki and miso soup, they brought me the obligatory coffee brandy cordial, which I sipped while reflecting on my very sore, sluggish calf muscles. Fucking rabies. [Cavin]