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Saturday, September 18, 2004


if you go to bed at four, and feel all transcendental and shit, and you can tell your wisdom tooth is going to erupt a bit cuz your teeth feel like they are floating on your gums, which is how it feels before the pain, and you think, no, i'm the master of this pain; you're fucked.

you can explore the pain with your mind, like you explore the indescribable sensation of cold water on your feet when you step in a shower and refuse to pull your feet back--which is instinctual. yeah, you can explore it some. you can realize it's only sensory information. you can explore the waves. the pain, it comes in waves, you know.

but eventually, because it's bad, you are going to be alone in a dark room with nothing but your pain. the novelty wears off pretty fast, and it might get you to wondering what sorta thing you were thinking back an hour ago when you could stopped this through the wonders of medical advancements, and such. you might even question what sorta person would do this to themselves.

and when it gets too great. which is to say, only the pain is present in your mind, and no images of submissive women, or fast cars, or being a rockstar, when you get to there, brain-filled with pain, you're going to sit up (now 6:30am) and hold your hand over your mouth and watch the lights flicker on your ceiling.

now you're just stupid with pain.

eventually, between a wave you will hold on to the thought of ibuprophen long enough to take some, then grab a frozen OJ and a sock, and freeze that baby. and your back to the sensation of cold, and how you still can't describe it.

good thing you decided not to be a writer.

and when another hour passes, and the drugs take hold, and the cold has gone from sensational to reduction you will crawl back into the bed. and sleep. waking only in the afternoon. waking only and wondering why you feel you need to get up.

the world isn't going to change in the next two hours. sleep more. get sleep. sleep is good for a body. good for healing a cold --same word, infinitely easier to describe-- and just good for life. sleep more.

but, you can't. so you get up. you look in the mirror and blood red eyes look back. who is this guy, you might even ask yourself. the din of life being lived, upstairs, invites you on your way. and you go.

Posted by ruzz on September 18, 2004 at 02:26 PM in sleep when your dead | Permalink


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Ouch! Owie, owie owie! So much for that coding. Can't you get codine OTC in Canada? I think it would help more than the ibuprofin, or combined with it.

Posted by: Penelope | Sep 18, 2004 10:34:49 PM

No, we can't get codine OTC here. But I happen to know that Ruzz has codine, but won't use it.
Some bunk about narcotics.

Maybe he'll listen to you Penelope, my RN status is apparently not enough to convince the patient that he will not develop a codine addiction.

Or lose his superpowers :P

PS: i was pleased to see that you at least took my advice on the ice Ruzz. Now if you would only continue to defer to my judgement... :)

Posted by: Naughty Nurse | Sep 19, 2004 12:30:05 AM

dali ruzz,

i'm pleased to see that you are doing what all good followers of me should do: live with the pain -- cause that's all there is. dulling the pain with codiene, slipping into a deep sleep to forget the pain, shunning the pain, is living half a life, and that's the reason i came to rule in hell rather than serve in heaven -- to experience everything fully.

so tune out your groupies and stick to the pain. pain will set you free. pain will bring you experiences that all should face, but so few do. pain will turn to profit.

love, luc

Posted by: the unholy one | Sep 19, 2004 12:46:15 AM