health

stories

So here’s what happened to me. First, the parasites got me, and they got me good.

Then, in a beautifully timed attack, my carton of eggs went bad.

All body aches and bad stomach pain and sometimes the full chowder-blow, parasites or bad eggs who knows. But seeing as I wasn’t really recovered from the parasites and I’ve never had parasites before to know, I figured it’s part of the process.

As they say, the best thinking is done in the bathroom. At three in the morning Sunday in the bathroom I set to doing some really good thinking and realized that my carton of eggs was bad.

Up till three in the morning Sunday, I’m pretty sure I’ve never actually felt honest anger in my heart towards a food item.

I threw them in the garbage. But I’m still angry.

I fear that the beloved American Easter traditions will never be the same for me. The next time I see that giant white and pink two-eared harbinger of those hideous illness-bearing ovalish-spheric white weapons disguised in garish pastel-themed paint, the twin-barrel is coming out quicker than you can say Cadbury’s. Three and a half inch magnum.

ideas, stories

I’m convinced. Nothing convinces me like puking convinces me. Puking convinces me with absolute pure and immutable resolution bigger and more solid than a huge windowless brick building that life always has a base or even baser place waiting just one bad dinner away.

So here I am on my hands and knees on the floor over a half full pan, in that baser place. I think about how some boxers puke before weigh-ins, then next thing I know I’m remembering the club and how everybody talked about the legendary fast food runs that coach treats his fighters too after the weigh in, and this one time when someone’s like “ah man, I’d load up on double macs” and one of the assistant coaches is like “awwwwWWw MAN that stuff’s nasty, you gotta go B-K or the Bell,” which by the way is totally the truth. But that’s mostly aside of the point, except that this thought triggered another one, and in a moment, me on my knees over a pan, pathetically wheezing little breaths because for a reason I don’t understand puking jacks up the respiratory system, every single strategically placed subliminal message of McDonalds’ big and disgusting food came rushing into my nauseous head at once.

I puked again.

ideas, other

Two things I hate:
1. Hurtful words; straight up my friend, I hate these.
2. “What could’ve been;” the quotation marks are important here…I have never seen good of any form come from “what could’ve been,” and I know a lot of bad of all sorts that’s come from it.

Two pieces of wisdom from a dayhike to Camp Muir:
1. Put on sunblock the second time. Always; period.
2. As calories begin to seem positively delicious entirely because they simply are calories, so does any/all food begin to seem positively delicious. Finishing a long hike at 5:00pm = hello you beautiful lukewarm Burger King Sausage Biscuit that I left on the dashboard 11 hours prior. Mmmmmm.

Two aspirations:
1. Have a porch and make real nice wooden chairs for it.
2. Tend a small garden, and keep a planter box (for the aforenoted porch) of flowers; I think they’d be Carnations.