At a dinner party the other night, the topic of illness came up - in reference to V. Woolf's On Being Ill. Why is it so difficult to write when ill, to write about being ill - and why is being ill such a transformative experience?

One of the things I wondered: People write a lot about being in love - and in many ways, falling in love feels just like being ill. There is a similar loss of self in sensations, muddiness of thought. But *that* kind of ill gets plenty of attention from the lovesick. Too much, maybe?

Is the prose of the lovesick worse than the prose of the ill becuase being lovesick is better than being ill? Is that the tradoff - better body, weaker words?

Rest up, Justin. Then, you can fall again... and think of it as a scientific study!