Tue 31 Jul 2007
Stillness and the pain abates.
Silence.
Darkness.
Cold.
Any interruption, and the pain crawls to attention, its claws scratching as it turns.
The pain is not evil.
The pain is not good.
But there are only so many chemicals, and so much space, and the pain consumes it all.
For the pain is, above all else, hungry.
Tue 31 Jul 2007
Mon 30 Jul 2007
Sun 29 Jul 2007
Sun 29 Jul 2007
Fri 27 Jul 2007
The National Lights is a band based here in Richmond, and I’m lucky enough to know Jacob Thomas Berns, the force behind the band.
He asked that I take his picture to accompany an interview he did for Plug In Music, an online music review site.
Click to go to the interview with Jacob Berns of The National Lights at Plug In Music.
Click for the web site of The National Lights
Thu 26 Jul 2007
Someone who knows:
Why do doctors ask you what shape your headache takes?
“Is it a triangle?”
“A square?”
“A star?”
What the deuce?
I never know if they can really use that information in some sort of diagnostic way: star headache = tumor, square headache = aneurysm, triangle headache = arterio-venal malformation.
Or, if it’s a psyhcological thing, and depending on what shape you use to describe your headache will affect how much they believe you have pain.
***
I never knew know what to say. Usually I went with: a pulsing blob. The doctor would dutifully write something in the notebook. Probably a drawing of a moose chasing a squirrel.
***
A shape:
Brain surgery. That means an open head. Spread skin and muscle and bone and the air flowing around one’s brain.
And light, where there should be no light.
The brain’s layers of cells aren’t opaque, the light slices in and stays, exploring.
And when the head is sealed the light is trapped.
The trapped light gets anxious, there in the darkness, and searches the pathways, trying to find a way out.
What shape is the made by the light as it traverses those spaces?
Wed 25 Jul 2007
Tue 24 Jul 2007
The same woman.
The same dog, that rises halfway up her shins.
At the same spot.
The same time of day.
The woman and her shin-dog pass and turn at the corner.
I saw her coming, with her dog on a leash.
The dog wanted to stop and look.
It paused at a cement curbed yard, its snout poking into the grass.
But the woman pulled and wouldn’t stop for her dog.
If you’re not going to stop for the dog, why take it for the walk?
Sun 22 Jul 2007
