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Parasites are just friends that reproduce inside you

I think I may have a tapeworm. Nathan suggested this the other night as I ate my third meal of the evening around 1 a.m., and it’s starting to seem plausible. I just ate a burrito at Pepe’s at 6, and damned if I’m not hungry again. Perhaps I need to choose meals based on a rib-sticking quotient from now on, but I think the actual answer is that, for whatever reason, my runaway metabolism is in overdrive lately. I lay awake, burning hot and sweating, until 5:30 a.m. last night, and finally had to get up to eat a bowl of cereal. Going to sleep as the sun rises because you were writing a paper is one thing, but owing to insomnia is another entirely.

Today’s column is a deconstruction of Michael Crichton’s latest novel, State of Fear, which I read for my environmental literature class (formally Modern Novel). I ranted at great length during the in-class discussion of the novel today, but surprisingly no one called me out on having written a column raising all the same points. After class I was telling the instructor to pick up the Daily, and another student overheard and realized that it wasn’t, in fact, a coincidence that someone had written an editorial on the book. Apparently my current lack of a beard makes me hard to identify using my headshot. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not — some people, usually the big fans or the big haters, see me differently after they realize I’m the guy in the paper. Ah, my tiny fame. Hasn’t gotten me a girlfriend yet.

Posted in Musings.

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