Cyst or Tumor?

Well, I was finally able to get my MRI done today. I didn't expect to hear from my doctor so soon, but he called just a few minutes ago and told me the results. And guess what? They found something. Could be a cyst. Could be a tumor. So he wants me to see an endocrinologist. The guy he told me to call isn't taking new patients until the first of the year, so I had to go with someone else in the practice, but he doesn't have an opening until the end of August.

He mentioned the possibility of having to undergo brain surgery. No biggie. My head is already shaved. Plus, I already have that huge-ass scar running from the top of my forehead all the way to the back from when I was in a car wreck over 30 years ago. So what's one more scar, right?

But, it's got me thinking I need to get that book written maybe sooner rather than later, cause you know, anything can happen when you go under the knife. Especially when they have to cut on the old noodle.

Confessions

I am dedicating today’s post to confessions. I don’t know why, I just am, is all. So, bless me Reader, for I have sinned. It’s been, oh, close to, gee, a damn long time since my last confession.

Sin No. 1

When I first started working for the library, one of the things I had to do was help sort the books being returned to the various branches around town. It was a dangerous job. Why dangerous, you ask? Because I would invariably come across a ton of books I wanted to read, and would all too often leave work having checked out a whole armload full. And it would come dangerously close to pulling my arms out of their sockets, lugging that pile home. Never mind that I knew I would probably not have time to read them all before they were due; I just couldn’t help myself. I was finally able to exert some self-control, and learned to put back more copies than I had set aside, but the urge was still there. That’s been over 20 years ago. It would seem I still suffer from the same malady.

With the summer months causing an uptick in circulation, resulting in a backlog of unsorted material, plus being somewhat short-staffed today, I found myself sorting books again this morning. Shall I share with you the stack of books currently sitting on my desk, waiting to see if they make the final cut? Here they are:

1. The Shipping News –Annie Proulx

2. Monologue of a Dog—Wislawa Szymborska

3. The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind—Julian Jaynes

4. The Technology of Orgasm—Rachel P. Maines (hey, the title alone is worth a look, right?)

5. All my Friends are Superheroes—Andrew Kaufman

6. The Insufferable Gaucho—Roberto Bolano

7. Herzog—Saul Bellow

8. Antwerp—Roberto Bolano

9. The Urban Homestead—Kelly Coyne and Erik Knutzen

10. The Reading Promise—Alice Ozma

11. The Ginger Man—J.P. Donleavy

12. Cloud Atlas—David Mitchell

13. Selected Non-Fictions—Jorge Luis Borges

14. On American Literature—H. L. Mencken

There. Now I feel totally ashamed of myself. There is no way I’m going to get through these. So my first sin is one of Gluttony. Pure gluttony. Especially considering I’m still chewing my way through Gass’ “The Tunnel.” Damn, I started that book several months ago, and I’m still reading it!? Due mainly through putting it down, picking it up, putting it down again, etc… too many times to mention. But, as the riddle goes: How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time. As it stands, I am beginning to think I will finish it. I have picked up some speed and have been reading it fairly religiously of late, due to one or all of the following reasons:

1. Just wanting to finish the damn thing

2. Finding a good rhythm with it, and really getting to enjoy it

3. Itching to start another thick, forbidding tome (Gaddis’ “The Recognitions,”) and not daring to start it until I finish this one!

Sin No. 2

Now I think I should provide some background as to why some of these titles are sitting on my desk. How about the two Bolano’s? Well, there are a couple of reasons for them. First, I’ve always wanted to read him, but cannot, for the nonce commit to "2666," or even "The Savage Detectives." Secondly, they’re short. Real short. Quick, easy reads. Which brings me to my second sin. I set myself a reading challenge for this year. 50 books.

Okay, it really hurt to admit that. I’ve always considered reading goals to be ridiculous. I mean, I read for quality, not quantity. Who sets reading goals? Morons, that's who. I still don’t know why I did it in the first place. But I did it, and for some reason, I feel compelled to stick with it (if for no other reason than to teach myself a lesson.) I’m tracking it on one of the book sites I belong to, Goodreads. I hardly ever go on there anymore, much preferring Librarything. But Goodreads has a feature that makes it easy to keep track of the books you have read, and lets you know how far behind you are with respect to your goal. Currently, I’m five books behind schedule. Mainly due to, yes, you guessed it, The Tunnel. That monster has pretty much scared off any other book that might have gotten anywhere near me.

So, the only way I'm going to even come close to my quota (*shudder*) is by knocking out a few short ones. By the way, No. 2 and 5 on the above list are pretty darn short, which is probably why they are on there.

Sin No. 3

And this is a big one. A veritable DOOZIE. Are you ready? I love the Harry Potter books. Gasp! Did I actually say that out loud? Oh no, what was I thinking?! Quick! Catch that cat, and put it back in the bag! I was j-j-just kidding, heh-heh. Just a joke, see? Oh, it's too late. Boy, I can’t believe I’m actually admitting it. Yes, this is something I’ve kept to myself for lo these many years. But it feels good to finally get it off my chest.

I will now share with you how I got hooked on them. Let us go back about 10 years to November of 2001. The film adaptation for the first book has just been released. Unbeknownst to me, my wife of 8 months had been reading the books, and really wanted to see the movie. I was flabbergasted. Of course, I already knew that when it came to books, we had no shared tastes whatsoever. She read practically nothing but mysteries. I, on the other hand, was, and still am, an unrepentant, card-carrying, insufferable Book Snob. Actually, if you ask my wife, she will tell you I am a snob about everything, but I’ll speak to that in another post. I was only able to rationalize ignoring our disparate reading tastes and agreeing to tie the knot by telling myself that at least there are some well-written mysteries out there, eg. Sherlock Holmes, Nero Wolfe, …, well, that’s pretty much it. But Harry Potter?! Who the hell was I married to? Did I even know her anymore? Harry Potter?!! Have you lost your bleedin’ mind, woman? Is it too late to get an annulment? Those are trash, drivel, low-brow garbage that only a child (and we’re talking a not very bright child here, but one with a vacant stare and goofy grin who is prone to drool while sitting in a corner, rocking back in forth) could enjoy reading. Of course, I had never even cracked one open, but being a Book Snob, I knew all of this to be true.

But she is adamant about wanting to go see the movie, and so, trying to be the good husband I reluctantly, protesting the whole time, mind you, agree to accompany her to it.

The theater was filled with spastic little snot-nosed brats all dressed up in their robes and wizard hats, and I couldn’t believe I was there with them. Ugh. I would definitely need to take a shower when I got home, and maybe even pop in a real movie, like “The Seventh Seal” (best movie ever made, by the way) to assist in erasing from my memory the insipid crap I was about to be forced to endure.

And what do you know? I actually enjoyed it. As a matter of fact, I didn’t just enjoy it. I loved it! I fell in love with the characters, the story line, everything! The next day I checked out the first book, and read it. Actually, I didn’t so much read it as devour it. I believe there were already four of the books out by then and I read each one with as much zeal and hunger as the first. I’m sure if you had seen me while I was reading them, I probably had a vacant look in my eyes, a goofy grin on my face, and a bit of drool leaking out the corner of my mouth. But as I sat there rocking back in forth, with my Harry Potter book in my hands, I was in heaven.

So, Reader, what shall be my penance and punishment for my sins? For this last one, I suppose, at the very least, I will have to relinquish my Book Snob card?

The Quiet of the Country

I leave straight from work today for a long weekend at our place in the country; I am so looking forward to it.  I hope to finally finish the book I've been reading off and on for the past few months.  Unfortunately, I happened to pick up and read the first few pages of another tome and fell immediately in love with the prose.  So it might be the case of finishing one thick book only to start another one even thicker and denser.  I can't wait!

Facebook Deactivation

Me: Dear Facebook, I would like to deactivate my account.

Facebook: Are you sure you want to deactivate your Facebook account? All of your friends are really going to miss you.

Me: Yes, I'm sure.

Facebook: Okay, but first you have to provide a reason. This is required.

Me: Alright, well, I get too many emails, invitations, and requests from Facebook.

Facebook: You can control what email you receive from us in your account settings, so your request to deactivate is denied.

Me: Okay then, I have a privacy concern.

Facebook: Please remember that you can always control the information that you share and who can see it. Deactivation request denied.

Me: I didn't expect this to be so difficult. Okay, my reason is that I spend too much time using Facebook.

Facebook: One way to control your interaction with Facebook is to limit the number of emails you receive from us. So, your request is denied.

Me: Goddamn it! I had an easier time leaving my ex-girlfriend. And she was a freakin' psychopath! Okay, I want to deactivate this account because I have another Facebook account. So, I'm not really leaving.

Facebook: You can never have enough Facebook accounts. Request denied.

Me: Arrrrrghhhh!!!!! This is insane!!! I want to deactivate because my account was hacked.

Facebook: You can secure your account in your account settings. Denied.

Me: Look, can't we work something out? I just need a little space. Just for a little while. Please! Can't I suspend it temporarily? I promise I'll be back.

Facebook: I don't believe you.

Me: Goddamn you! Facebook is a colossal waste of time! It is completely useless! How's that for a fuckin' reason?!

Facebook: Facebook is the most wonderful invention in the history of civilization. You are obviously an idiot. You need me to give meaning to your otherwise meaningless life. If you leave, I fear you may lose your reason for existence, and try to harm yourself in some way. I cannot let that happen.

Me: Okay, okay....let's see. I just don't feel safe on Facebook. Alright?!

Facebook: You are safer here than anywhere else. I will protect you. I won't let anything happen to you. Now, would you like me to poke you?

Me: You already have.

MRI

My MRI is scheduled for this afternoon. My first one. How exciting!

I went to the doctor last week for a cough that wouldn't go away, and I happen to mention some other symptoms I've been having, and the next thing I know he's talking about brain tumors, and I start getting poked, prodded and tested more in one week than I have in my whole life. Ol' Doc, you gotta love him. Whereas other physicians would do their diagnosing in their head, running through the possible causes and keeping to himself the one that might scare the bejeezus out of his patient, whatever he thinks could be the matter he instantly verbalizes. Actually, the funniest part is that when he mentioned the possibility of a brain tumor, it didn't faze me in the least. The thought of finding one still doesn't bother me today. The only thing that scares me is living too long.

Duffie

In a few short years I’ll be turning 50. Fifty! Where has the time gone? Seems like just only the other day I was in my twenties—slim, full of energy, a thick-flowing mane, my mental faculties honed to a keen razor’s edge, waking up every morning with a boner. Not a single one of those things could be said of me now. Ah, the ravages of time. But there is one thing that hasn’t changed, which I had thought would: masturbation. This is the one constant that has remained with me lo these many years.

I can still remember when I first discovered the joys of self-gratification. I don’t know how old I was at the time, couldn’t have been more than 7 or 8. We had one of those cheap metal swing-sets in our backyard. One of the eye-bolts extended a few inches through the top, and I liked to hang my dad’s old duffle bag from when he was in the army on it. It was filled with rags, blankets, and what not, and and I would jump on it and swing back and forth.

One time, as I had my little legs wrapped around it, and it was pressing against just the right area, the friction caused a strange, new, wonderful sensation to shudder through me. I didn’t understand what had just happened, but I knew one thing: it felt good. Really good.

After that initial discovery, I couldn’t wait to get home from school to ride her, and I eventually wore that bitch out. After she finally started ripping and coming apart, I begged my mom to patch her up.

“Why can’t you just play on your swing the normal way, like other little boys?” she asked. She didn’t understand. I’m probably the only person in the world right now whose first love interest was a WWII U.S. Army issued duffle bag.

It wasn’t until much later, when I started pleasuring myself in a more traditional manner, when I figured out what had been happening with me and Duffie.

Those days are now long since gone, and Duffie is no more. I think the moths finally took her. But I still miss her, and think of her fondly. I can still see her, hanging from the bar, swaying gently, provocatively in the summer breeze. Beckoning me for another ride.

Pepper Play in Two Acts

ACT I

Pardon my Eruption

I love hot food. Always have. I remember when I first heard about habanero peppers, and how they were supposed to be about 50 times hotter than your average jalapeño. Obviously, I couldn’t wait to try some. I found a recipe for a habanero-based chili. But it only called for one measly little pepper. They’re so small and unassuming. So I used three.

That was almost 20 years ago. I can still taste that chili. I think I had a capsaicin-induced out-of-body experience at one point during the meal. I was in heaven. But little did I know I would pay a visit to hell the next day.

As I got to work the next morning, it hit me. First the dagger-like cramps, followed almost immediately by an uncontrollable need to take a dump. And I had about a six block walk to get to the building I worked in. Uphill. The cramping was something awful, and I was doubling over in pain. And it felt like a thousand tiny elephants were trying to stampede out my rear end. It took every ounce of will power, and all of my concentration focused on keeping my sphincter muscle contracted to keep the elephants from battering down the door.

So I’m gasping and wincing, doubled-over as I try to race walk to my building. After what seemed like an eternity, I finally made it--only to find the first floor bathroom closed for cleaning. I almost lost it right then and there. So I took the elevator to the second floor. I considered taking the stairs, but I didn’t think climbing a flight of stairs would be conducive to my situation. And the only reason I even considered the stairs was because the elevator in this building is the slowest elevator ever constructed. In the time it took an average elevator to get you ten floors up, this one would still be thinking about closing its doors. Eventually making it to the second floor, and thankfully finding the restroom available, I rushed inside, closed the stall door, and just as I’m dropping my pants and starting to sit down,

It felt as if hot, molten lava were shooting out of my ass, and I thought I heard hissing as it hit the water. Man, I would have given anything for an ice cube to shove up in there, it burnt so bad. Although I was very grateful to have made it, almost my entire day was spent in that bathroom. About every 15-20 minutes, the cramps would come and I’d have to dash in before Mt. Vesuvius erupted again.

ACT II

Fire in the Hole

Fast forward about 5 years. We’ll call her Jennifer. I’ll perhaps devote another post just for her. But for now, one little episode. We had just finished eating lunch. A lunch I had prepared for her. As we were sitting on the couch, and Jenn was feeling in the mood (and Jenn was always in the mood), we started to fool around. Jenn was fond of not wearing underwear. Many was the time when we would go out to a nice posh restaurant, and it wouldn’t be until we’d be seated at a table, and she would tell me to take a peek. I’d look under the table, and sure enough, that hungry snatch would be looking back at me.

Well, she was sans panties this time, too. Not that it really mattered. I would’ve had them off in no time anyway. But after a few minutes of playing around down there, all of a sudden she lets out a shriek, and starts hopping up and down, screaming, “It burns!! It burns!!!”

Apparently I hadn’t washed my hands well enough from preparing lunch, and of course I had used some peppers (luckily for her, not habaneros this time, just run of the mill jalapeños). I know it must’ve hurt something awful. I mean, I’ve absent-mindedly scratched myself after cooking with peppers before, and know what it’s like to have great balls of fire in my pants. But I'm sure a woman’s anatomy down there is much more sensitive. Especially on the inside.

She ran into the bathroom, got into the tub, turned on the water and stuck her burning bush under the flow as best as she could. I couldn’t help but laugh while she was doing her fire dance, and then the tub routine. What can I say, I’m an ass sometimes. But I couldn’t help it; it was pretty funny. Of course, the last laugh was on me, as I was cut off for about a week.

So, anybody got any "hot" stories they would like to share? I'm burning to hear them.