I'm lying in bed and I'm hot and sweaty

Yea, and it's for all the wrong reasons. A virus travelled down to Brighton. got off at the station, made it's way down Queens Road, passed all the shops without buying anything, turned right at the clock tower , ambled along North St, then minced down St James St and finally decided to impregnate a curvy brunette in too-tight jeans.

So here I am, on my own, with 15 days lost out of my fascinating life. I've also lost weight (good) and writing time (bad). I sent my lover away because shivering, damp and infectious is a bad look.

Tommy and Calvin visited me because gay men understand pain and rejection. They brought lilies, champagne and dope to cheer me up. They wrinkled their elegant noses at my sweatiness and shabby creased T-shirt. They pretended not to notice my bare arse (they've known me too long) as I dashed from bed to loo.

Ms Rude, another occasional visitor, did comment on the arse. "Sadie" she said with an expert air, "Enjoy this moment, I think you're actually your jean size". So there you are, even in a crock of shit you can find a vein of gold!

I've been overdosing on ibuprofen and porn. My fav site Daily Nude Blog.com never lets me down. Even if my temperature wasn't at boiling point, these naughty bunnies would blow any thermometer. I've also become addicted to Watchersweb where ordinary women (ie. not models) strut their stuff for their boy/girlfriends camera. It's just like the brave babes on Gaydargirls.com who bare all - they are sooooo sexy. Boring women (even gays) tutt and criticise but they miss the point. To expose yourself is a real turn-on. OK, you won't be seeing my intimate bits on the internet (not yet anyway) but I hope I reveal myself in print.

I'm actually feeling a bit better now. I still look the same, imagine Tracy Emin painted by Francis Bacon! But, hey I've written this - so I must be improving.