I’m sure I had something exciting to say
Jun.07, 2006, filed under Miscellany
But I can’t think what it was.
Abhasana has requested that I talk some more about my breasts. I’m not entirely sure what to say about them. There are two of them, they have darker areas on the front commonly referred to as ‘nipples’, they are fairly evenly matched for size, are free of tattoos and have so far escaped being scarred in some accident or other (unlike most of the rest of me), neither of them has a name, and Frood says they (each) are a perfect handful.
Although I suspect this latter is dependent on the hands in question being his. Or at least the same size as his.
There’s that bloody ant again.
My knee still hurts, by the way, although I think it’s just a strained ligament or tendon. It gets painful under rotation with a straight leg, down on the inside of the knee. Other than that it’s fine. I can run on it, cycle on it: I just can’t do breastroke kick. So I might have to take a break from the pool for a few days, or at least allow my distance to take a knock because I can’t do crawl for 40 lengths.
Not yet anyway. Although on Friday I discovered that I can still swim a length underwater (well, other than the painful knee), and more easily than I used to be able to. So there’s striking a blow for experience over youthful enthusiasm.
I’m rambling here… oh!
I remember!
I really fired this thing up to tell you all about this bloody weird dream I had the night before last in which my feet were bitten off by a shark whle on a job. I came round from whatever incident led to this and Munky and gecko and Maura and Estara and Ro and a few other people were there and they were all telling me how sorry they were and how dreadful it was but it was fine because prosthetics these days are really very good and I wouldn’t miss them. I looked down initially I felt stumps and there were my bandaged legs, still bloody, but I blinked and then there were my feet. I could feel them.
Everyone told me that I had phantom limb disorder, that my feet weren’t really there and my brain was filling in that they were, even down to making me see them there. I just pointed and said: “Look! Toes!” I could wiggle them. The toenails were quite dirty.
I remember crawling about on my hands and knees for a while because it was too painful to walk, but eventually I made myself stand up. My feet were still there for me even though everyone else was horrified because I was apparently walking on bloody stumps.
Not that exciting, then.
Last night — well, this morning, after the alarm radio had gone off, which explains a lot — I dreamt that I had to go and rescue Wolverine. When he was provoked into being angry and violent he was his usual, hairy barbarian mutant self, but someone had done something to him so that whenever someone shouted at him in a DJ fashion (“It’s the top of the hour! Time for a record. Here’s Free with You Ain’t See Nothing Yet and then we’ll take you right over to the news room…”) he turned into Chris Moyles.
Which, frankly, is a fate worse than death. Poor bastard.
Suggestions, comments, ridicule and mockery in the usual fashion…
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Singularity
~something that is singular as (a) a separate unit, or (b) unusual or distinctive manner or behavior; PECULIARITY;
~the quality or state of being singular;
~a point at which the derivative of a given function of a complex variable does not exist but every neighborhood of which contains points for which the derivative exists;
~a point or region of infinite mass density at which space and time are infinitely distorted by gravitational forces and which is held to be the final state of matter falling into a black hole. Sight
