Fever Dream

As Tweedledee once said, "Generally I am very brave...only today I have a headache" So it goes with Your Charles sniffling and coughing, his mind clouded with ineffectual cold remedies, and his ripening fever which pushes the color waves of fantasy into everyday consciousness, finds himself deliriously typing at a computer.

Since nothing new has come of late, maybe now is a good time to go through the back catalog of Bronsonius Rex and really experience (for real this time) all the hidden gems you sorely missed out on. Because maybe it is time to garner a greater understanding of what we (and you) are all about.

Or perhaps it is time to evaluate life and what it would be without the miracle of health. Because as Your Charles is unraveled by illness, he believes, if only for a moment, that the overwhelming sickness he feels is the beginning of a slow descent into the arms of the Ender. There is a pessimism of recovery, an inevitability of an all-engulfing, like Johnny Depp being swallowed whole by his bed in Nightmare on Elm Street, that will asphyxiate all his hopes and dreams, and, on the eve of extinguishing his poor, poor life, impel him to answer the foreboding question: Was it worth all worth it?

Maybe it's not worth it, but the fate of Your Charles is not to be the crispy gentleman above, unable to quell the exponential sickness takeover of mind and body...

Your Sick Bronson is merely indulging in the doldrums...and doesn't really believe that this illness is a blessing, the beginning of the end. Normally we should not promulgate our incumbent sense of doom. Yet, as Your Charles's ill perception becomes increasingly like the passenger looking out from a car being rinses and washed, only the truest sentiments can permeate his weak and disoriented mind.

Thus: the vitamins, the NyQuil, the Airborne, the Flintstones chewables are being all-consumed by Your Charles to get a grip on these most perilous feelings and deter you from a similar despondency. So, like Lewis Carroll, I will use the visionary distortions that come with fever spells and make Alice (or You, dear Bronson) feel as clumsy and unsettled as possible in the far-from-wonderful “wonderland.” Then, you and I (and Alice) may find solace and companionship in a decaying world and stem the tide of our decaying souls, together...