Movement in the Margin
I've taken down a couple of blogs that were to the right simply because the authors seem to have quit posting! Still cool people, but no bloggage. And I've changed my links. More to come when I have time.
But I don't have time. This weekend I'm slammed with work. I'd like to write more up here but with a family and career...it's very hard to make the moments happen during the semester. When I read something like this piece of brilliance I'm further staggered. Everyone I read online is a good writer, but Romy's blog is the best I know, even among the 'famous' bloggers, most of whom deserve little fame. I have so much to write about from my life history I'd like to reach in that direction, but not at the moment. I'm going to submit some poems and a short essay along with my poet buddies (who are all quite published, and two sorta famous), and I haven't started my piece of that either. Five classes (a rare schedule) plus a new lit. class and a new book in my freshman comp...plus applying to another college (still heard nothing) has drained me.
Then there's my tests. Body tests. Pokes and probes and peeks. My liver values were all back to normal a couple weeks ago after they spiked during the holiday drinking season; but my heartburn has gotten chronic in the last year and I finally had the endoscopy yesterday. An endoscopy is a very modern way of crawling into the belly. They told me I'd go into 'twilight sleep' during the procedure. Twilight as in stupor maybe. I was unconscious man. Benzodiazapene and morphine derivative. The last thing I remember is the doc coming in and asking, 'why is he still awake?' I suppose it's better to be sedated, completely, while someone sticks a 30 inch black tube through your vocal cords into your belly (and then takes little pieces of said belly out) but the fasting beforehand, and the heroin hangover all day today, both took their toll on my work week. Part of the reason I'm doing this instead of grading online essays is that my head is still sleepy-cloudy, just a bit.
In three weeks, for those with true interest, I get a colonoscopy. I'll be sedated also, which somehow feels strange, those two things simultaneous. I win this prize because a couple relatives a generation or two back died of colon cancer. I can't complain, I'm glad they're going in to muse, but it's the true turning forty rite of passage. Not gray hair, not contemplations of mortality, not even the heartburn...'we're going to put you to sleep and stick this thing {gosh, I hope they use different scopes than for the endo procedure, autoclave notwithstanding} `way up your colon, all the way to where it joins the small intestine.' Pictures and souvenirs.
I see. What a job. No wonder they pay those people.
I know I'm lucky to be having all this done, but during the semester it's demanding. Most hopefully I don't end up with an interview at the new college during the week of my colonoscopy. I'll either be starving or dopered.
Peace, friends. Back to the essays I go. On the job front, I have been digging teaching am. lit. for the first time. Crane, Stein, Anderson, Eliot. What a couple of weeks. I know I truly am fortunate.
But I don't have time. This weekend I'm slammed with work. I'd like to write more up here but with a family and career...it's very hard to make the moments happen during the semester. When I read something like this piece of brilliance I'm further staggered. Everyone I read online is a good writer, but Romy's blog is the best I know, even among the 'famous' bloggers, most of whom deserve little fame. I have so much to write about from my life history I'd like to reach in that direction, but not at the moment. I'm going to submit some poems and a short essay along with my poet buddies (who are all quite published, and two sorta famous), and I haven't started my piece of that either. Five classes (a rare schedule) plus a new lit. class and a new book in my freshman comp...plus applying to another college (still heard nothing) has drained me.
Then there's my tests. Body tests. Pokes and probes and peeks. My liver values were all back to normal a couple weeks ago after they spiked during the holiday drinking season; but my heartburn has gotten chronic in the last year and I finally had the endoscopy yesterday. An endoscopy is a very modern way of crawling into the belly. They told me I'd go into 'twilight sleep' during the procedure. Twilight as in stupor maybe. I was unconscious man. Benzodiazapene and morphine derivative. The last thing I remember is the doc coming in and asking, 'why is he still awake?' I suppose it's better to be sedated, completely, while someone sticks a 30 inch black tube through your vocal cords into your belly (and then takes little pieces of said belly out) but the fasting beforehand, and the heroin hangover all day today, both took their toll on my work week. Part of the reason I'm doing this instead of grading online essays is that my head is still sleepy-cloudy, just a bit.
In three weeks, for those with true interest, I get a colonoscopy. I'll be sedated also, which somehow feels strange, those two things simultaneous. I win this prize because a couple relatives a generation or two back died of colon cancer. I can't complain, I'm glad they're going in to muse, but it's the true turning forty rite of passage. Not gray hair, not contemplations of mortality, not even the heartburn...'we're going to put you to sleep and stick this thing {gosh, I hope they use different scopes than for the endo procedure, autoclave notwithstanding} `way up your colon, all the way to where it joins the small intestine.' Pictures and souvenirs.
I see. What a job. No wonder they pay those people.
I know I'm lucky to be having all this done, but during the semester it's demanding. Most hopefully I don't end up with an interview at the new college during the week of my colonoscopy. I'll either be starving or dopered.
Peace, friends. Back to the essays I go. On the job front, I have been digging teaching am. lit. for the first time. Crane, Stein, Anderson, Eliot. What a couple of weeks. I know I truly am fortunate.
Comments
Tactfully addressed! Not that I can speak for anyone else, but Nat told me not too long ago that she forgot her login and password, so I don't expect any more posts from Bong Srei. Ah well, I have been looking at my links too, and should probably update...but haven't gotten there yet.