silver bullet
For many years I have had a tenacious herpes simplex 1 (common cold sore virus) colony on my upper lip. Lurking around beneath the skin, dormant most of the year. It decides to roil up from time to time, every six months or so, most often because of some environmental pressure like chapped lips or the return of allergy season. It's been as regular as clockwork, but you can bet that after Saturday night with TR the timing of this latest one has made me slightly nervous.
--There's having someone's word on not being an STI riddled slut-sponge, and then there's having their word plus one feisty cold sore three days later.
Upon the advice of Dandelion I am spraying the cold sore often with 10 ppm silver hydrosol, and so far that seems to be shriveling it into submission. To assuage the nervous conscience I have also thumbed through past photographs of myself with this same blight--same place, same shape, same everything.
The only one who should really worry about this is TR. He might have walked off with a little simplex 1 on his willie.
Otherwise, the daily routine is crumbling like coastland into the sea. This is the last week of work, and then... silence. Nothing until September. My father, who is cynically expecting to be 'downsized' soon, has offered to join me in days of lounging around in socks and playing guitars in the living room. What a heaven it'll be.
Also relying upon Dandelion's relative expertise I have junked the inorganic lifestyle for good. No processed foods, no sugar, no additives, no drugs. Just a pure and spotless tube in a state of Ayurvedic bliss. 'If you can't put it in your body,' says Dandelion, 'don't put it on your body.' I now have edible deoderant.
(And soap.)
This is a great part of my attention lately. Whosoever believes that summer is not a time for Russians has been told a lie.
--There's having someone's word on not being an STI riddled slut-sponge, and then there's having their word plus one feisty cold sore three days later.
Upon the advice of Dandelion I am spraying the cold sore often with 10 ppm silver hydrosol, and so far that seems to be shriveling it into submission. To assuage the nervous conscience I have also thumbed through past photographs of myself with this same blight--same place, same shape, same everything.
The only one who should really worry about this is TR. He might have walked off with a little simplex 1 on his willie.
Otherwise, the daily routine is crumbling like coastland into the sea. This is the last week of work, and then... silence. Nothing until September. My father, who is cynically expecting to be 'downsized' soon, has offered to join me in days of lounging around in socks and playing guitars in the living room. What a heaven it'll be.
Also relying upon Dandelion's relative expertise I have junked the inorganic lifestyle for good. No processed foods, no sugar, no additives, no drugs. Just a pure and spotless tube in a state of Ayurvedic bliss. 'If you can't put it in your body,' says Dandelion, 'don't put it on your body.' I now have edible deoderant.
(And soap.)
This is a great part of my attention lately. Whosoever believes that summer is not a time for Russians has been told a lie.