I see a bad moon rising, but I can't say that I see trouble on the way, per se. It's a bit hard to see through the tree branches, to be honest. But it looks more or less bad out the window. Commendations to the set artist are in order. I could go outside to get a better look, but that's not really playing fair, is it?

The dictionary gives the definition of dysgeusia as "dysfunction of the sense of taste," which is odd, considering it's listed as a symptom of thrush. Are you telling me, dictionary, that what I'm tasting isn't actually there? That I'm sensing it wrong? There is a bad taste in my mouth. If you sucked the fluid out of my mouth, I'm telling you, it's pH would be all wrong.

Or are you including physical interdiction of the taste apparatus (to match the obtuseness of your tongue) within a "dysfunction of the sense"? But that would mean tasting something bad, if you don't want to taste something bad, is a dysfunction. Eating spoiled food is a failure of taste, you are saying? That I, being a sophisticated a person as could be expected, should know better? That I should have avoided it before tasting it? That's just plain offensive, Merriam-Webster.

But maybe you're right about the whole problem of senses. Of not coming to them: The bad taste comes, the bad taste goes. Do I taste it at all anymore? I engineer little tests, swishing water and then sensing as hard as I can. Everything I taste then, concentrated on the task, takes on a certainty. I can for sure taste metal, there, on the left side. I can feel it seeping through my teeth, under my tongue, like dry ice gas.

Then again, it's easy to think it's not there. Distract with just a bit of food, a bit of work, a bit of something to complain about or celebrate, and I've forgotten it's there. Then take a sip of water, or put my head on the pillow, and there it is ("oh yes, it's definitely there", I think).

17 April 2014