Nothing is more painful than pain, and in the past few days I've had my fair share. Right now I create this with my spine suffering some cruel twist, an evil contort that must be made to function in a chair. My stomach muscles have been forced to become 5 times stronger than before, and my right leg is needed to move my left. Of course, left's all over the place are being weakened; for example, in our own government.
The left suffered a terrible blow today when a senator and his family died in a plane crash. He was one of the few democratic senators that did not fall victim to the republican machine. I would have gotten around to sending him a congratulatory letter, too, but as things stand I guess he'll never get one.
The past few days for me have been a romp through free speech TV and Noam Chomsky, feeding my recent resurgent hunger for left wing political agenda. Of course, this isn't even on any wings anymore. I fell off the wing a long time ago, I'm on a completely different animal. But its nice to see what people smarter and more knowledgeable than myself have to say.
Selfish Bastards everywhere want to know: what was made of my night of culture romp through the village in manhattan? I and three others, two of which [http:/www.arsjerm.net you might] already know, went to watch two independent documentaries: "Fidel" by Estela Bravo and "Bowling for Columbine" by Michael Moore, the latter of which I had already seen and discussed. The former however, was something to behlod. Never has anyone been presented so contrary to what the united states media conglomerate's want you to believe. Castro seemed like a likeable man of morals and strong ethics with many political values that are similar to my own. The three I was with seemed to enjoy themselves, and one who was going to be with us, but due to unfortunate circumstances showed up to the showing before us, thought it was fantastic. I thought it was fantastic as well.
So then we head from the Quad Theater on 13th between 5th and 6th to the Lowes on 19th and Broadway. We hit Grays Papaya on 9th and 6th for shits, giggles, and pinneaple juice, and then two Ray's Pizza's because, well, its famous, and then took our seats. There were a few crowds there that arrived all together; reminding me that I had hoped the night would have been like that for us, too. But alas, 4 people was enough; and a pleasant diversity of 2 white and 2 Asians made the evening interesting enough to attack the issues at hand from all angles.
Unfortunately enough for myself, I had missed the last train out due to 1. leaving my wallet in lowes 2. "bowling.." starting 15 minuets late and 3. not feeling like racing to grand central on a knee that would be cut open within 12 hours. I retreated to hoboken where I would take a shot nap and then hit the OR at 10 the next morning.
Yeah right. I fall asleep around 4 because I was BSing with two of the remenants of my group, and then, after prompty turning off my alarm in my sleep, snapped awake startled at 7:44. Shitty. What was I going to do? A miraculous dash to the train station would wind up in a 2 hour trip, leaving 15 minutes to head to the hospital 30 minutes away from home. I was supposed to show up EARLY. I call my mother, and say "I just woke up.. should I leave now?" The reply would be the most relaxing ever..
"Sure; you still have time. Operation not until 12." Oh.. thats right, I made my surgeon push it back to 12 because I figured I was a lazy bastard and didn't want to wake up early. Saved my own ass bigtime, to. So I head home, almost finishing Michael Moore's new book on the train, and despite the fact that I had forgotten my mothers work number, she calls me in the nick of time to leave and time our arrivals at the train station rather exactly. Disaster averted by my own stupidity += 2. I decided not to do anything else stupid all day, and followed everyones orders.
Surgery is not fun, or at least thats what they want you to think going in. "Is the phemeral block going to hurt?" "It will be unpleasant, yes". "Will I be in pain?" "Immense". My surgeon thinks he's pretty funny. So they put me in a gourney and roll me over to in front of some inner reception desk. This is where they start hooking me up to all sorts of shit. The Anasthesiologist is some Korean guy who has had bad luck with needles. I feel like I'm on candid camera. For the first time in my life, I'm hooked up to an IV. I must say, it isn't all that bad. I thought it was going to be more painful, or feel wierd, but apparently the lines of my blood vessels do not have many nerves. Anyway, the sedative they put in that little pouch pretty much made all memory of the following events insignificant. I do have a memory of the phemeral block, or whatever the hell it was, but I am not sure if its fact or fiction. I don't even remember being concious as they rolled me to the OR. Anyway, I wake up to my surgeon proclaiming that he had lots of nice pictures of his beautiful work.. such a humble guy. I fall back asleep for another 2 hours, and then when I feel sorry enough for my mother, having stayed there for 8 hours with very little to do, I decide to get up and take a piss so they'll release me. I almost threw up on the way home, and since getting home I've been in bed about 97% of the time. Because my back screams for a better life, I'll head back there now. Over and out.
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