Things that could have killed me: a minature Volxwagon

It was lying on the path twixt the shed and the house and had my lumbering, shuffling over-fed self stood on the one to thirty-two scale black Volkswagen Beetle then my flat feet would have slipped, I'd have fallen backward and caved in my skull heel on the concrete path. 

NowMikey saw it and kicked the car under a table. 

If the multi-verse theory is correct and the universe is but multi-versions of me then a decent chunk of those mes are dead.

That would have been some coroner's report though. 

(HashTag)Silverlining.

Hands deep in whale spoof

I'm still wading through Moby Dick, reading it in bursts on my iPhone. I recently got through a chapter about the narrator's experience at de-lumping spermaceti, the oil taken from the whale's head.

Of course he shortens spermaceti to sperm and there are many passages of how much he enjoys being up to his arms in the stuff and how pleasant a task of squeezing the lumps it is.

The name of the chapter is "A Squeeze of the Hand".

An excerpt:

Squeeze! squeeze! squeeze! all the morning long; I squeezed that sperm till I myself almost melted into it; I squeezed that sperm till a strange sort of insanity came over me; and I found myself unwittingly squeezing my co-laborers’ hands in it, mistaking their hands for the gentle globules. Such an abounding, affectionate, friendly, loving feeling did this avocation beget; that at last I was continually squeezing their hands, and looking up into their eyes sentimentally; as much as to say,—Oh! my dear fellow beings, why should we longer cherish any social acerbities, or know the slightest ill-humor or envy! Come; let us squeeze hands all round; nay, let us all squeeze ourselves into each other; let us squeeze ourselves universally into the very milk and sperm of kindness. 

I am not so old as to find that deeply hilarious.

OLD MAN YELLS AT PHONE

The trouble with re-opening wounds of mental trauma is falling into expressions of angry grief.

I was reminded of my life of people with a duty of care for me thugging me over and I started yelling. Then I sat down with food, made whilst yelling, then yelled at my iPhone sitting next to me. I presume my angry trauma-afflicted self recognised phone equals persons being yelled at on the other end so I yelled at it even though the phone was off.

Angry yelling at people who are not there is actually normal; there's a bunch of therapy techniques that use it. It's not the first time I've yelled at a phone either but traditionally that was applied as a phone was ringing or after a call ended.

Trauma: it's traumatic. For me and my phone.

UPDATE: I was lying on my bed and lifted my phone to use it when my hand sprang open to throw the phone into my teeth. Well played, iPhone...

Fatigued

The side-effect of wins is they remind you of wounds. And even if not actively mulling your subconscious does and leaden fatigue sets in. I've been wretched for two days, entwined round a body pillow as my body and brain semi-hibernate. It's a common reaction, I slept weeks away after initial injury. 

I feel old already with early-worn joints but additional lethargy makes me ancient.

But it's just for now and not for long. There are sunny wakeful hours ahead.

WFTW.

Levelled up

My psych was the one who told me, that I had landed on my feet. I hadn't realised and she was right---there was a golden cross on the top right of my character pic indicating I'd levelled up. 

I got to a tavern, sold some loot and clicked to go up and I rolled a one for hit points. Typical.

Ford fail

Ford just exhorted me, via YouTube, to consider their latest sale where "I could walk away with an X for only fifty-two thousand [something] dollars."

I am targeted via my Google presence and the bolshi in me recoiled at the idea someone could be wealthy enough to consider walking away with a fifty-two thousand dollar car to be prudent good sense and masculine presence wish fulfillment. And it recoiled that Google felt so little of me that it would think a Mikey would purchase a vehicle of such a high price. For what purpose? Well, masculine presence wish fulfillment ... if your idea of a man is a tool who tools around in an expensive manly car that he got at a crazy low 52k. 

But then I am an un-man so that works out.

A dirty joke

I slipped in the mud, pen mud, so shit and mud. My foot slid into the start of an escape tunnel and then I was on the ground in the rain, shit and mud and sore from smashing the shed gate down. I worried I'd blacked out because it seemed so sudden with me slippping then finding I'd fallen but then my bum was sore too and there was alien writing on me so it was just a bog standard alien abduction time lapse. 

They could have fucking beamed me back standing up, not legs akimbo in chicken shit and mud.

That's just so rude.

In the process of writing that last bit the suggested words for the clump of wrong letters were Amateur Thatcher.

Like where you fuck up a coup in Africa.

Moby dicked

I'm reading Moby Dick on my phone and I'm up to the bit where Captain Ahab is practically chewing the mess rug in his monomania to get Moby Dick, an albino sperm whale which last time ate off half a leg (Ahab's).

I'm guessing it's all going to go tits up and Ahab will #Fail.

What if someone gave it an Ahab-happy ending? Like in Wayne's World where they have a number to choose from but the final is the most-happy.

Where you get to learn that platonic love can exist between two men (Russell).

I'm technically nuts, I have papers that say, but I've accidentally dicked the White Whale. Twice.

I went into wrenching, howling maddened grief the first time. The second was numbed delight. I phone-tubed and hummed the rest of the day.

I'm the Ahab that made it. That's something. Two Dicks, says I, two!

First bite of the year!

In the New Year we run around our house announcing the first time something has happened for that year; first wee, first poo, first shower and so forth. 

We get it out of our system by Jan 2 most years.

Then there are other firsts, the unintended ones, like being bitten. As a member of the top of the food chain I expect to bite the dead not be bitten by the living.

I just got bitten in the crook of my elbow by an ant.

I didn't make it past the first week before Australia's fauna struck back.

Australia: where things go bite in the night—and day!

UPDATE: I got bitten later that night, by an ant, at the top part of the ankle. Kismet.

My cat has a drinking problem

The black cat loves me; she friggin' loves me. She's always trying to nuzzle, lick sweat off my skin or sit on me. 

Such as the knee. 

Because she loves rubbing herself against me and if she is on my knee and I am using a glass she will lurch up to rub on my arm when I raise the glass to my mouth and when my arm comes down I bounce off her and smash the glass rim into my teeth. Or I'll have a glass at the ready to drink and she will stick her head under the elbow then push upward to smash the glass rim into my teeth. 

I should learn to drink left handed since that arm hovers over a table instead of the couch.

When she gets to step eight of AA she better have me marked for an apology.