All he could see was a very bright light. Then he became aware of some figures moving around him, they seemed to be very busy. Everything was blurry, and he didn't know where he was. The people, for he supposed that they were people, who were moving around him were wearing flowing white robes of some kind. He felt like laughing- it couldn't really be that typical, could it? Then he could see clearly, Unfortunately he could also feel clearly, and he was in terrific pain. A warm female face was hovering in front of him. She was smiling. His pain was becoming unbearable. " Where am I"? His voice was hoarse, and almost unrecognizable. " You're in the hospital, you have had a terrible accident. "Oh" He slumped onto the bed. His legs were getting so bad he felt like screaming, but didn't want to embarrass himself in the hospital. But He had to " Please, can you give me something for pain?" The always smiling nurse turned to him and said "Sure" she then adjusted the iv tube that he now noticed in front of him. He felt a refreshing cool fluid starting to flow throughout his body. His mood was getting better too. "Did you give me a sedative?" he asked. She nodded in assent. He thought that he needed it. Maybe all the time. Not only was his pain going away, he was starting to feel a warmth towards everyone. He was still very exhausted though, and fell into a deep sleep.
He wasn't sure of how much time had passed when he regained consciousness again. He looked around. He was in the same room, but it wasn't as bright as it had been before. He looked up a the light that directly overhead. It was still the sole luminary in the room, but now it looked dull, like it needed cleaning. He craned his neck a bit and noticed that there was a little trash on the floor, and that there were even some medical instruments on a streaked tray to his left. Was that a blood streak? He couldn't tell. Could he have had surgery without knowing. Unfortunately the on;y proof he had of this is that he wasn't able to find a scar. But his lower back felt terrible, it was starting to ache. And, he became aware of another fact. He could not feel his legs. Why had he not noticed before? He tried to move, panicking and hoping that he was somehow deceived, but no he really couldn't feel anything at all below the horrible pain around his waist. He screamed.
Immediately a doctor came in, a middle aged man, bald, with dark hair and a dark complexion. His eyes were piercing and deep set. There seemed to be a smile playing around his lips, but maybe it was the fact that he kept his lips pursed at all times. "Joe, what is it?" He had to use all of his self control to keep from screaming. He sounded like a snake. " Please give me some pain medicine." The doctor held his gaze for a little long and then adjusted the iv to deliver more medicine. The divine fluid covered his whole body. The doctor must have given him alot. He sat down next to the patient. He forced a small smile. " I am sorry, but I must tell you now that you have badly damaged your legs in that accident, and I can't promise that you will ever be able to use them again. "What?"... he stared at the doctor in disbelief " But I don't.. what happened?" " you had a very bad accident. I am going to be your therapist, and will do my best to help you, but I don't want you to hope for miracles. " He coughed a little laugh" " My name is doctor Blough" He offered what looked to be a very pale, undersized hand. Joe lifted his hand to shake the doctors. It was warm, he had expected something fishy. He was a little relieved, but just too much in shock for anything to register. " When will my therapy start?" "Wel,l right away as the surgeon doesn't see any point in operating" He looked at his watch and suddenly had a far away look." Sorry, but I have to see another patient right now. I will see you tomorrow. " His face pressed into the same smile as before, and he quickly left the room. Joe thought he heard the doctor mutter something under his breath.
He stared at the ceiling. He really wanted out of that room more than anything. He turned to his left and couldn't see the instruments that had been there. Didn't matter. Really nothing mattered anymore. He though of walking along the lake when he was kid... seeing the happy fish in the water, seeing other kids playing across the lake. The sun wind water trees together made a paradise he could immerse himself in. But he was moving. And now he would never be able to walk again. He started to cry, but all the medicine he was on made him not feel too very sad. Maybe that was for the best. With every possibility of hope or help out of his mind, he thought of God, and for the first time in his life, he prayed. He felt some peace, and then quickly fell asleep again.
Copyright 2008 Dr Bullwinkle Productions
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Crushed Purple
The passageway was dark- he didn't know if he would ever find his way back again. But he knew that he had to keep going. He knew that the story had a way for him to go. The idea was at first terrifying, then exciting and liberating. All he had to do was follow. He didn't really have to create, to lead. All the characters and situations were already there, if he would wait for them to come to him. The same was true for every writer. In fact he knew then that anyone could be a great writer, the art was in receiving the ideas, not in trying to tighten his brain to squeeze them out in brick force. Editing was the horrible evil he had always though it was as well, it was doubting the Creator himself really. Certainly there could be misspelling corrected, just as a musician didn't want to play wrong notes. Now he was worrying about the title, but what did it matter? Hadn't all of the clear symbols been used to the point where they were already boring? What difference did it make whether or not one more hack used a snaky reference to adam and eve again or not? If there were any symbols of any important, the Guiding Hand would help him with them anyway, and he could see them when he bought the book on the stands along with everyone else.
He went left and went up the battered lime steps. It looked like they had been there a 100 years ago. Maybe all the great dignitaries of the bum kingdoms had touched their feet to them, He saw an extra large cockroach scurry away from him as he opened the metal latch in his mailbox. The only letter inside was a large manila envelope with a department of defense label on it. He hesitated, and then grabbed the envelope and was embarrassed about his own foolishness. He went into his room and collapsed into the cushioned chair. It was a beautiful afternoon, full of ozone air, but he couldn't think of anything to do. Then he remembered the envelope and opened. There was some odd smell to it that he couldn't place. Inside he found a note, that looked something but not entirely like a form letter." Dear Sir, we regret to inform you that you do not have the background for any of the positions that we have open at this time." At first he felt some shock, but then almost immediately after that he felt exuberance. He was free! He couldn't believe that he was going to fall for that stupid slavery all for the security of a position and then of course to persuade some naive but beautiful girl to marry him. If there was a the right girl for him shouldn't she just love him and maybe even be his friend, through thick and thin, regardless of his "financial status"? Even if everyone else got married just so they would have someone to take care of them, he was going to stay independent.
He decided to leave, get in the car and do whatever the hell he felt like doing and try not to feel wrong about it. It was great to have a job that he could dispose of in a few hours, although he didn't want anyone else to find out about it, because they might want to make him feel guilty about it. Out the door and down the street towards the car. Once he was in the car, he decided to head to the bookstore. He was driving too fast, but didn't care. He wasn't running anyone over. He could learn languages. He could be a professor, he could be a writer, it really didn't matter, just so he could be free to pursue what his mind wanted to do, not to please someone else's thinking.
It was quiet in the bookstore. He went to look at the language section. There was someone in the section that he wanted to go to. He didn't have any patience and decided to leave. He wanted freedom and movement above everything.
The energy was running out on the way home as it really began sink that he didn't do anything except waste some more gas. It was still a beautiful day. He was starting to feel nostalgic again. Why not. There was no harm in living in the past. He had to live somewhere- in the past or the present or the future. Maybe those who insisted that you had to live in the present just didn't have the memory to live in the past or the imagination to live in the future. He knew one thing for sure: he didn't want to live in their present. She was such a beautiful girl, but they were not made for each other. He didn't want to be mean, but she was not really bright enough to follow him. She had admitted as much herself. But she was a sweet girl. He had done the best thing by allowing her to break up with him. He was not a bundle of presents himself. But sometimes he could and would travel back in his mind to remember how she held him and how they had this world together, when nothing including nuclear Holocaust had mattered except for the world that they shared together, the love and the sadness that he felt when they watched the sun set on that clear summer afternoon. Wasn't it too painful in the end to get completely lost in the past? He always ended up in pain. But it was a beautiful pain. It didn't matter, just so he kept going.
There was a world to the words that could be as good or better than any other kind of world. Usually he stayed in the worlds of ideas and emotions, but there was a pleasure to words alone. Words could paint and they would have to do, because he could never paint. Now he wanted to race away into that world of words and never come back. What would they think? Would they care? Did anyone ever really care? He though people were looking for reinforcement of their own ideas, or they seemed to care out of some kind of duty or responsibility, but that in the end, others only cared about themselves, it had something to do with the basic definition of an individual. We are separate until the end. People could sometimes be good fun until that point arrived though.
He missed a turn that he wanted to make and turned around in the middle of a street with not too much traffic in it. There was a near miss by someone who surprised him pulling on from another street. He smiled at his good fortune. The quality of the Sun was the very same that it had been when he was a child, and he was wracking his brain trying to figure out why that was. Must have been because of the time of year. Those beautiful paintings of dinosaurs.
There was a jolt.He had and awareness of pain without the sensation of pain, and then there was nothing but darkness.
He went left and went up the battered lime steps. It looked like they had been there a 100 years ago. Maybe all the great dignitaries of the bum kingdoms had touched their feet to them, He saw an extra large cockroach scurry away from him as he opened the metal latch in his mailbox. The only letter inside was a large manila envelope with a department of defense label on it. He hesitated, and then grabbed the envelope and was embarrassed about his own foolishness. He went into his room and collapsed into the cushioned chair. It was a beautiful afternoon, full of ozone air, but he couldn't think of anything to do. Then he remembered the envelope and opened. There was some odd smell to it that he couldn't place. Inside he found a note, that looked something but not entirely like a form letter." Dear Sir, we regret to inform you that you do not have the background for any of the positions that we have open at this time." At first he felt some shock, but then almost immediately after that he felt exuberance. He was free! He couldn't believe that he was going to fall for that stupid slavery all for the security of a position and then of course to persuade some naive but beautiful girl to marry him. If there was a the right girl for him shouldn't she just love him and maybe even be his friend, through thick and thin, regardless of his "financial status"? Even if everyone else got married just so they would have someone to take care of them, he was going to stay independent.
He decided to leave, get in the car and do whatever the hell he felt like doing and try not to feel wrong about it. It was great to have a job that he could dispose of in a few hours, although he didn't want anyone else to find out about it, because they might want to make him feel guilty about it. Out the door and down the street towards the car. Once he was in the car, he decided to head to the bookstore. He was driving too fast, but didn't care. He wasn't running anyone over. He could learn languages. He could be a professor, he could be a writer, it really didn't matter, just so he could be free to pursue what his mind wanted to do, not to please someone else's thinking.
It was quiet in the bookstore. He went to look at the language section. There was someone in the section that he wanted to go to. He didn't have any patience and decided to leave. He wanted freedom and movement above everything.
The energy was running out on the way home as it really began sink that he didn't do anything except waste some more gas. It was still a beautiful day. He was starting to feel nostalgic again. Why not. There was no harm in living in the past. He had to live somewhere- in the past or the present or the future. Maybe those who insisted that you had to live in the present just didn't have the memory to live in the past or the imagination to live in the future. He knew one thing for sure: he didn't want to live in their present. She was such a beautiful girl, but they were not made for each other. He didn't want to be mean, but she was not really bright enough to follow him. She had admitted as much herself. But she was a sweet girl. He had done the best thing by allowing her to break up with him. He was not a bundle of presents himself. But sometimes he could and would travel back in his mind to remember how she held him and how they had this world together, when nothing including nuclear Holocaust had mattered except for the world that they shared together, the love and the sadness that he felt when they watched the sun set on that clear summer afternoon. Wasn't it too painful in the end to get completely lost in the past? He always ended up in pain. But it was a beautiful pain. It didn't matter, just so he kept going.
There was a world to the words that could be as good or better than any other kind of world. Usually he stayed in the worlds of ideas and emotions, but there was a pleasure to words alone. Words could paint and they would have to do, because he could never paint. Now he wanted to race away into that world of words and never come back. What would they think? Would they care? Did anyone ever really care? He though people were looking for reinforcement of their own ideas, or they seemed to care out of some kind of duty or responsibility, but that in the end, others only cared about themselves, it had something to do with the basic definition of an individual. We are separate until the end. People could sometimes be good fun until that point arrived though.
He missed a turn that he wanted to make and turned around in the middle of a street with not too much traffic in it. There was a near miss by someone who surprised him pulling on from another street. He smiled at his good fortune. The quality of the Sun was the very same that it had been when he was a child, and he was wracking his brain trying to figure out why that was. Must have been because of the time of year. Those beautiful paintings of dinosaurs.
There was a jolt.He had and awareness of pain without the sensation of pain, and then there was nothing but darkness.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Well, now that that is taken care of.
I am glad we solved that world hunger problem, it was beginning to interfere with my enjoyment of cable tv. I am on the process now of discovering that Mozart is not as bad a great composer as I thought he was. I think the reason that I had that impression in the past is that his dominant theme was not morose and that for much of my adult and less than adult life, I have been very comfortable teetering on the brink of suicide. Now don't get alarmed, I am much too much of a narcissist to ever actually go through with it- I am convinced that I will ultimately be taken out by mad prion disease..not that anyone would express alarm over my death- more like over continued existence...
Another quick mention of how obnoxious people are- knock it off, you are ruining my day! And towel off that disgusting brown substance emanating from your mouth. Or properly season it and swallow. Whatever must be done.
Hey I am being nice today. Fewer genocide moments. OOPS!! did I say that.. I er that is hehehe. Save it for my underpaid therapist. Isn't interesting that one day I savor the imminent destruction of humanity, e'en the annhilation of all matter, and the next day I wat to feed the world. Huh. well id they were all fat and satistfied, maybe they would leave me alone.
Oh all these JOKES are so funny!!! Hahahahhahahaha!!!!
These string quartets on youtube make it appear as though any four acquaintances can assemble in an airy old barn and immediately produce great music. Maybe the younger generation can do that... I know oldsters like myself had to work ages and still could only play one sour note. But we were only very recently incarnated from the mineral kingdom, so.. there you go...
An article I read said that those freaks of us born during the 60s with the Pluto/Uranus conjunction thingamabob was in session are not craven nut cases as I have often observed, but are rather massive incarnators extraordinaire. I was very skeptical of this til I noted that we supposedly came at the destruction of Atlantis. THAT makes sense to me. No matter how high the iq of any member of my age group, I know none who won't break into a cheery smile at an anecdote about a comet destroying the Earth, or titter and giggle at the mention of a supervolcano ripping half a continent to shreds. Now THERE is the U/P conjunction for you.. extraordinary destruction. It was hit by Saturn for a period of time.. and then of course the individual suns could have been mal placed via various ways. I have Sun and Mars square these villains and the feeling is that my energy must come out explosively or chaotically, or I am caged by inertia. Sometimes the result bothers me, but there is relief just like a supervolcano feels when it has coated everything with a sugary coating of lava. In the material universe destruction must precede creation(except at the pristine beginning) and is not crap or garbage, but a powerful tool of change. Maybe some people with better aspects are more precise about what they destroy. I feel it all has to go at some point.
Even if I do or say nothing, it will all happen anyway. Even Mozart can't cheer me up. Hey it's only words anyway...
Another quick mention of how obnoxious people are- knock it off, you are ruining my day! And towel off that disgusting brown substance emanating from your mouth. Or properly season it and swallow. Whatever must be done.
Hey I am being nice today. Fewer genocide moments. OOPS!! did I say that.. I er that is hehehe. Save it for my underpaid therapist. Isn't interesting that one day I savor the imminent destruction of humanity, e'en the annhilation of all matter, and the next day I wat to feed the world. Huh. well id they were all fat and satistfied, maybe they would leave me alone.
Oh all these JOKES are so funny!!! Hahahahhahahaha!!!!
These string quartets on youtube make it appear as though any four acquaintances can assemble in an airy old barn and immediately produce great music. Maybe the younger generation can do that... I know oldsters like myself had to work ages and still could only play one sour note. But we were only very recently incarnated from the mineral kingdom, so.. there you go...
An article I read said that those freaks of us born during the 60s with the Pluto/Uranus conjunction thingamabob was in session are not craven nut cases as I have often observed, but are rather massive incarnators extraordinaire. I was very skeptical of this til I noted that we supposedly came at the destruction of Atlantis. THAT makes sense to me. No matter how high the iq of any member of my age group, I know none who won't break into a cheery smile at an anecdote about a comet destroying the Earth, or titter and giggle at the mention of a supervolcano ripping half a continent to shreds. Now THERE is the U/P conjunction for you.. extraordinary destruction. It was hit by Saturn for a period of time.. and then of course the individual suns could have been mal placed via various ways. I have Sun and Mars square these villains and the feeling is that my energy must come out explosively or chaotically, or I am caged by inertia. Sometimes the result bothers me, but there is relief just like a supervolcano feels when it has coated everything with a sugary coating of lava. In the material universe destruction must precede creation(except at the pristine beginning) and is not crap or garbage, but a powerful tool of change. Maybe some people with better aspects are more precise about what they destroy. I feel it all has to go at some point.
Even if I do or say nothing, it will all happen anyway. Even Mozart can't cheer me up. Hey it's only words anyway...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
