High On Dead Bits

There's loads I wanted to say but it will all be hopeless bcs I am high on stupid phormol. I am, really. Phormol - aka formaldehyde 37%, formaline, methane - is what is used in our vet school to keep organs and organ parts in. So they keep, you see. (Solemn pause while I enjoy these last 2 sentences. Really, who says I CAN'T write? Green-eyed twat and all that.) Anyway, I really am having a hard time writing this bcs there were 21 pieces of organs for us to examine and they were all soaked in phormol, reeking of it.

Let me tell you, phormol induces the most hideous headache. The class started at 14.00, it's now 20.00 and the little garden gnomes who lodge in my brain are still gnoming. It makes the eyes water and the throat itch bcs it's terribly, TERRIBLY irritating . I looked like some seriously distraught ingénue in class, tears rolling down my cheeks, eyes red and swollen, Professor tenderly shoving a piece of gastronomic delicacy tripe my way as I almost fell off the stool REPEATEDLY trying to keep my distance. NAUSEATING. Three hours of this, I tell you, three hours looking at toxic pieces of intestines and stomachs and kidneys. It would all have been very interesting actually if:

a) I could have actually SEEN said bits;
b) my head weren't throbbing like a motherfucker;
c) phormol weren't actually carcinogenic.

Oh you read so right. CARCINOGENIC. CAR-CI-NO-GENIC. As in, cancer-inducing. I kept wanting to press a button to lure the friendly spacesuited men in bcs surely that can't be good. My professor walked around dripping phormol, LITERALLY. His gloves were full of the stuff, there were little pools of it in them bcs they're so bloody short [Alright this is what I want to know, and this time capslock IS screaming: WHEN WILL SOMEONE INVENT LATEX GLOVES THAT COME ALL THE WAY UP TO THE ELBOWS? MUST I RESORT TO RECTAL PALPATION GLOVES WHICH ARE NOT FLEXIBLE ENOUGH?] But don't take my word for it, go read here. Oh the joys of Southern Europe. At around 16.30, 2 and a hald hours in, some of my colleagues started fanning themselves like mad and crying as well, or just generally complaining abt the smell. Seems I'm more evolved, finer-tuned receptors, see? Oh the joys of me.

It still hurts.

Moving on. Lord Chimmy [if you visit prepare for INSTANT myopia. Just saying...] gave me this link. It's a video of a dog who was born without the front legs and is now... a biped! Yes. It IS an amazing video, please go see. Kudos for her not having been put down bcs of it. Reminds me of a woman I saw in a Children of Our Times documentary [BBC of course - BOW NOW], who has no legs or arms to speak of and is raising a child on her own. Fucking amazing, these are the brave ones, these are the ones who make me feel I don't have much to complain abt (oh ok, maybe not so much now but in general).

Kristin emailed and asked how I am doing. It surprised me bcs I'm not sure. I think I'm alright. I'm not crying though and that's not a good sign for me. I know how I react to things, I know how I ruminate. Therefore, I don't think the worst is over yet - actually I know so bcs the truth is, Uzi, my Tig, is not dead yet. He just isn't. And this after I went to the funeral and had the actual proof before me. It's still not real. When it becomes real, ahhh hell, the shit will hit the fan and all surrounding soul structures.

This reminds me of something that puzzles me. Some of you have told me, in comments and emails, that I am strong - let's not turn this into a "Oh yes you are, are too, ARE TOO!!". I really am not fishing for anything, just want to talk abt it. I find it bewildering bcs I don't think I am all that strong. I don't think I'm handling this in a particularly brave or wise way. I'm trying to survive w my remains reasonably intact. I really do NOT see it. Also, some of you are surprised I'm writing again, so soon after his death. Let's digress shall we.

I've always read and I've always written. Those are simply things I do - better yet, things I must do. I am an amazingly fast reader. My definition of the perfect holyday is loads of heat - not one iota of cold anywhere - and a book a day AT LEAST. When I go abroad and buy books - which is always - I actually have a very hard time leaving the hotel/friends' house bcs I want to stay in and read. REad, read, read. I am given grief by all sorts of people who decide I cannot be really reading. I mean, you turn the pages but you're not really reading are you. You don't really UNDERSTAND the story do you. Like, when he met his aunt, what did she say? Oh. Ok but what abt when the car turned up? Well nevermind, what colour was his jumper on p.27? WHAT, YOU DON'T REMEMBER? I KNEW YOU WERE JUST SKIMMING THROUGH IT!

Well, this is very annoying. I am a fast reader. I'm sorry you're not. I'm sorry it takes you a month to finish a book. Fuck off already.

Also, I write. I write when I must, not when I want to. I once wrote a story, it's 17 pp longs. I BLED. It actually wrote me. It took abt 5 years from beginning to end bcs I cannot write just bcs I decide i want to. This is the most amazing thing I ever wrote and it took FOREVER! The suspense nearly killed me. It's also the most bizarre thing I ever wrote and I remember my surprise - and delight - when a fully new character simply showed up. Out of the blue [HA! Little pun here for those in the know]. I really did not know he was going to appear (there were only 4 characters to start with and i knew that was it) and I couldn't wait to write more so I could see how it ended. Sometimes a friend would say "How does it end, I need to know!" and I'd just exasperatedly say "I know, SO DO I!!!" What, I need this? It's not like I have any power over it you know.

Re Uzi, sometimes I feel bad and I need to write abt it. Sometimes I feel bad and I cannot face words at all, I cannot even read [worst sign of all]. Sometimes I feel good and need to blog abt it. Sometimes I blog to try and find out how I am, to make sense of it. Sometimes I don't even know what I'm going to say. At the end of the day, my not being able to blog is an indicator of things gone bad, as is my not being able to comment or even read other blogs. The past couple opf days have been good and I try to use those to go say hallo.

Oh, almost forgot, there's one more thing I want to say: I BLOODY LOATHE FIREFOX! Thank you, I DO feel better. CSI on tonight. Play amongst yourselves now.