Attic Rummage Addressing Wounds

During the past ten days, I have been coming to terms with the details of my writer's block--culling the notion, the actuality of a chronic contagion, the management thereof, diplomatizing my immunity system.

Because of this life-threatening bacteria, I was put into hospital as an emergency patient. Pus oozed from the abscesses on my leg (right shin), which had swelled far beyond what my jealous ego would allow.

Such a revelation for me, not so for the physicians who prescribed the antibiotics and scheduled the surgery to remove pus-balls lodged near my tibia as I had witnessed during my morpheme localized-language anesthesia-articulated haze.

Agglutinative cogent cursed (con)fusion, a skeletal motor-cycle--this is my hell on meals. Let me rev up my chompers. "VROOM," I ached, burrowing my fears, while visualizing this recipe.

Tibia Shmibula (ingredients)

Tibia Shmibula Casserole

Vegetable Spray/Olive Oil
Red Potato Slices (fried)
Oregano Leafs/Shallot/Sun Dried Tomato (all freshly minced)
Blue Cheese (crumbled)
Chicken Legs (parboiled, flash-fried)
Red Bell Pepper (julienne)
Yellow Cherry Tomatoes
Smoked Provolone (sliced)

Tibia Shmibula Casserole (plated)

A constant case history, this persistent pestilence--flushed from the rush undermining recovery, I sit back, validate, moderate, purge.