Coffee + Sugar High =

Over the past three years, my constitution has progressively been steering towards near-monastic latitudes. That is to say, my tolerance for fun vices and nummy nums is just about non-existent. Coffee does all kinds of awful and unmentionable things to me, sugar (most notoriously in the delicious vestiges of hot chocolate) sends me into paranoid sugar highs (and lows) of epic proportions, rich foods and even meat is practically indigestible, alcohol makes me nauseous, and marijuana makes me nauseous and anxious. Actually, all of the preceding cause anxiety and nausea to some extent, which has resulted in my becoming a petal flower velveteen milquetoast of a teetotaler. On those occasions where I ignore anguishes of the past and say, drink a cup of coffee like some bold doxy, a regular good-time lady, and end up writhing in a corner somewhere, or nervously discussing topics that transgress any kind of ritual propriety in order to stave off a full-on freakout, I seek comfort in and try to assuage my nerves with some of the following:

Mint tea: could anything be better when one is suffering from a caffeine coma or the flu? Refreshing and restorative! Indeed, the digestive and oxygenating properties of the mint family is well documented. The astringent and aromatic properties are also beneficial in combating the ill effects of creamy, heavy or sugary foods.


New Orleans funeral jazz recordings. One of my favorites is the Young Tuxedo Brass Band's album "Jazz Begins: Sounds of New Orleans." I do believe that it may be impossible to be upset in any conceivable way when listening to this genre. Indeed, to some it is an odd concept, listening to music, however uplifting, intended to be played at funerals, in one's darker hours. Ignore any morbid connotations, friends, if you are so inclined, and be sure to try it. You will be delighted.


Foot Rubs. Hocus pocus snake oil quackery you say? Even if you consider the above chart to be as useful as the miasma theory, one cannot disagree that a foot rub feels damn good (unless you are one of those unwashed heathens with a foot aversion or are simply a ticklish pansy). After a good rub, I feel as if my humours are re-aligned, and often times all is right with the world. Release yourself from the heartache of too much Rimbaudian black bile! Treat your tummy to a bracing inner-arch squishing!


Non-threatening television. Yes, spacing out on television sometimes relieves angst and takes one's mind off of disagreeable matters in general. This method ought to be used sparingly, but during a long bout of illness or on a day when a moody state of mind becomes unbearable, I have found a small marathon of the following often enlivens my mood, or inspires me to get off the damn couch and be productive: Jeeves and Wooster, Yan Can Cook (and other non-competitive cooking shows), Jacques Cousteau, Venture Bros., Horatio Hornblower, Globe Trekker. Some may find the near antithesis to television, reading books, just as effective. I wish I did, but in moments of most dire anxiety, I find switching off into near-alpha mode in front of a flashing screen most effective.


Happy Place. For me, this could be a dim, restful room, the supermarket, work, school, or a beautiful spot (like Knights Ferry, CA, pictured above, if I am not so anxious and angst-ridden as to be rendered incapacitated). Any text or class discussing stress will bring up the importance of environment in regulating one's temperament. So often I find myself in deeply offensive or psychically damaging surroundings, but with a simple change of locale, my nerves calm and my digestion returns. It is important as well, in times of convalescence, to find an agreeable spot to rest. We so often take the space around us for granted, or forget the usefulness of seeking sanctuary, yet the ill effects of discordant space cannot be denied, especially in times of malheureusement. The study of psychogeography and unitary urbanism, although often taken to decadent extremes, as well as the ancient Roman perception of open space, has provided much fodder concerning the psychological and spiritual aspects of the structures around us. I personally cannot go to a movie theater without suffering from some sort of horrible nausea or bout of panic.

Perhaps some wayward, fragile and hypochondriac soul will find this article of use. For the rest, I apologize for the uselessness of this post. This brings me to the final method of forgetting one's ills, and that is writing about them. Not all may take such a self-serving path as blogging about it, but for your humble author, the time involved and lack of seriousness involved in this process serves as perhaps one of the best ways of forgetting my cares. Even so, I promise a much more enjoyable post for the next time.