Haval al ha-dema'ot

I'm back in Lisbon. Am relieved I'm not in the kibbutz anymore, him everywhere i turn to. Kept getting up in the evenings to go back to the room, never mind that there is no room, just kept getting up. Could not believe i was there. cannot believe i'm here, doesn't help either. Very grateful i went, very very grateful. so good to be able to hug Lila, she and her family are always a haven. feels like i was away for a lifetime. saying goodbye to his family was horrendous. His mum told me i'll always have a home w them, such a terrible thing to say now. there may be many rooms in my father's house but they're all empty, they're all empty. Lila and i have taken the mad laughter road without looking back. Started w emails, death jokes. Now it could be anything. Had a nightmare and woke up at 4 am, couldn't fall back to sleep? Courtesy of Uzi Saghi. Which makes for a good acronym, CUS, which in hebrew is pronounced Koos, which actually means something really vulgar in arabic, which is actually part of an arabic curse israelis use a lot, cus emek, and which he was very fond of especially when he stubbed his toe and the likes. So now CUS is randomly applied to Everything That Is Wrong, which right now is basically everything. We used to do a lot of birdwatching, he had the most amazing eye for finding all sorts of critters. I'd forgotten how elusive the birds were at times but it all came rushing back with lorry strength when Lila and I were discussing something, the funeral maybe, most probably, and she said Birds don't come easy and my coke went neatly through my nose. She used to sing it to me when our birdwatching went poorly to the tune of Words don't come easy. So BDCE can be used for anything, it's rather philosophical. I showed Z. my blog and he read Squarepeg's comment abt how i must be a lifeline to them. I said it was actually the other way round, he said we are all each other's lifelines (and my god, when did he become this wise, he's my Tig's little brother). but before that he'd asked what a lifeline was bcs he didn't know the word and i said "Well, say you're on a boat and someone's drown-" and I froze, looked at him very seriously, he looked at me very seriously, i said Oops, i said DROWNING! and we started laughing hysterically and high-fiveing each other. It warranted it didn't it. Hysteria is always just a thought away. [hearbreak #347: Uzi used to spell his last name without an H and i told him in some countries - like here - the G would cause it to be pronounced Sajee, so he went with Saghi from then on. Z., his brother, was giving me his email so we could chat on MSN and I noticed he spells it wtih an H as well. I said Oh, you spell it SagHi? Funny that, and he said No, he told me to and why. It lives on.] Lila says Z. collects such treasures. There is an expression in hebrew that means something like "too bad/bad luck is to be the one who is dead". Someone was in his parents' house talking and said "haval" (too bad, bad luck) [Squarepeg has corrected my translation in the comments. I still think that, despite its literal translation, it should be translated into English as "shame abt something-something" bcs that's the closest approximation in actual meaning.] and someone else started using the expression I mentioned, stopping abruptly after "haval al" when he realised what he was abt to say. Lila says Z. turned his head so he could look at her and smirked. OOPS. When we were walking back from the f. we were discussing how quick it must have been. As far as it could be reconstructed bcs the hotel manager's son survived, Aya was on the beach and Uzi was in the room. He had a stomach ache (he ALWAYS had a stomach ache, he ate terribly and drank too much milk) and was still sleeping. Sleep he could do as well, any time, anywhere, no problem. Aya escaped the first wave but not the second one, a wall fell on her. Uzi was unblemished - for a corpse, that is - apart from a bruise on his thigh. They were found very far away from each other. So knowing him, if he'd as much as had a few seconds warning, he'd have fought like hell. Seems he didn't so we think he sort of woke up dead, as in Why the wings? This is another winning sentence, to be followed immediately by Oops, don't say wings. listening to the radion ensures we will not have a moment of quiet bcs songs are all made of very funny, well-timed words, it turns out. another winner is Oh haven't the Jewish people suffered enough, that will set us off immediately as well. I emailed Lila yesterday to tell her I'd arrived safely [don't say "safely"] and told her I was feeling sorry for my different-faith acquaintance, who's here visiting due to some karmic misfiring or something bcs I really don't know what to do with myself at times nowadays and sometimes it'd be much better if I were alone. And she emails back it's alright, them people have not suffered enough just yet, so i think thi is a good opportunity for that.

And the Jewish people really have NOT suffered enough yet bcs the sound of an alarmingly big amount of glass shattering just came in from the kitchen and upon examination, it would seem the different faither, God bless all minorities, has effectively blown up the stove lid and glass is littering the kitchen floor and the hallway. No humans and other animals were harmed [don't say "harmed"].

His Brother

Z. came to me a while ago when I was crying, while we were gathered outside waiting for the ambulance to bring his body, so we could finally bury him. Z. held me and said: I come for you instead of him now because he would want to, he would come for you if he could.

The most perfect, beautiful thing I was ever told.

----------------------------

He is so much like Uzi it's both painful and comforting. He is even taller (1,92) and yesterday he leaned against the kitchen counter w the same half slouch and my heart skipped a beat. I can't quite get over how big he's become, how grown up, how attentive. Uzi was always so proud of him, so fiercefully protective of his little brother. He even liked it that Z. was now 5 cm taller - and still growing. I used to call him Handsome bcs he was and bcs it was fun to embarrass him. In the beginning I liked him bcs he was Uzi's brother and a cute kid, then I liked him also bcs he was likeable. He has always had the best, most appalingly dark sense of humour, which I love. Sometimes Uzi would come back to the room still laughing and say "Z. is SO funny, you'll never guess what he said now!" And he'd laugh and laugh, making me laugh as well even before I heard the story. I knew Z. resented me a bit, I took space in his brother's life, also physical space and it always astonished me that he'd come to the room at all. I used to tell Uzi, the Big Procrastinator, that he should make sure to drive somewhere w Z., and Z. often kept him company on the nights it was his turn to guard the kibbutz. Bcs see, even if I left the room for a while, I knew he'd never really relax bcs I would come back, inevitably. In a car they'd be alone for hours, roaming the kibbutz. U. always came back with a little extra happiness over this time together. He was crazy abt Z. and would have done anything for him, anything. And I always felt grateful that they were brothers AND friends. It breaks my heart that he lost the continuation of himself this way. We talked for hours, he helped me find my love letters to Uzi. (Funny thing: I was able to find them bcs years ago I gave Uzi, The Lazy, one of those filing binders so he could keep all his important documents together and not rummage frantically through every little box cursing in Arabic looking for them every time he needed something. They were there, w the flight stub from his 1st trip to Portugal. I had forgotten all abt giving him the binder until I recognised my handwriting on the outside pouch.) And for the first time I thought maybe we can have a relationship not only BECAUSE OF Uzi, bcs we need to re-visit each other's memories, but also DESPITE him.

Because Handsome, kol hakavod, you've turned into one hell of a man.

Funeral

the funeral is today at 2 pm, israel time. have seen only my friend Lilah so far which suits me fine. cannot believe Im here at all. so v wrong. pip is haunting me, Pip the dead, pip the heartbroken.

Your very own household name

I don't know how my internet access will be or if I'll feel like writing at all. These are the people who, one way or another, will hear from me and will be able to post something on their blogs - at least I hope so, I didn't even ask them but I've only just thought of it and it's too late now. Lisa, Savtadotty, Squarepeg, who are in Israel and with whom I'll be talking and whom I may be seeing and it's such a shame it's all so horrible and ugly and i am sorry, I'll be wearing the brunt of my post-catastrophe madness and it's simply not fair for them. So B, L, S, S, I really am sorry it cannot be simply lovely.

I am actually calm now. My trusted friend Denial has been rubbing my shoulders and telling me how simply splendid it all is. I have been having vague - well no, concrete thoughts of receiving a phone call telling me there was a fingerprint mistake. My budding clinical mind is telling me I desperately need to attend that funeral. I imagine I will be very surprised if there is a coffin. I mean, it's rather obvious there will be one, I am flying to go to a funeral, but it doesn't make any sense bcs there CAN'T be a coffin, how can there be a coffin, it's ludicrous, is this a joke, stop that this instant, STOP IT YOU'RE SCARING ME NOW.

I have also not been able to get a hold of L. yet. I hope someone picks me up from the airport. Or not. I could actually just stay there. I'm bringing books. I could just stay there and read, instead of not being picked up by Uzi for the first time ever. Oh you've all helped me so much, so so much. Every email, every comment is a lifeline. For some reason, it's especially gratifying to read those from first-timers. I think it's bcs it's one more person who knows of him, who will think of him. I would like for him to be a meaningful household name. I want people to think of him, to know his face, isn't he so so very pretty? You haven't even seen the very good pics, but those will come, i am sure, there will be many a pic, as we used to say, on this blog. I've been thinking a lot abt it. I've been furiously dividing my time btwn thinking and a-thinking and it doesn't seem to make any difference, which surprises her no end, when I'm thinking I have a hole in the centre of me that is so heavy my breathing sometimes skip a beat and I feel like a diseased Atlas only it's not the world I'm carrying on my shoulders, it's the absence of the world and it always shocks me to the core how a void can be so overwhelmingly loud and fucking eloquent even as I'm robbed of everything but the most basic organic skills and some of those are gone anyway. And when I'm a-thinking it’s not that I am actually NOT thinking, it’s that I, as an entity, am temporarily gone and the film is paused. But the image is there, frozen, staring me in the face. Sometimes what I feel is so unbearable I am convinced my heart, the actual organ, will end up damaged from all the past tenses I am now forced to use, only “now” will literally last me a lifetime and I can’t seem to reconcile Uzi’s lack of future, my lack of him, w him being my past perfect and fuck me if this denial thing isn’t cracking its shell already STOP IT NOW

I'm going home

For the very best and absolute worst reason. I'm coming home to bury my best friend. I leave on Saturday and come back on Thursday. The world must be spinning off axis bcs this is obscene: I am finally going back to Israel and it's a fucking nightmare and I am so terrified I'm nauseous and shaking.

How will I do this? How the fuck will I do this? HOW?

גבריאל

.

The most perfect, fitting song.

What I can still pray for

I want for it not to be possible for his mother to see him bcs she wants to, God help her. I want for the casket to be absolutely sealed for health reasons. No one needs that image to be the last one.

I want him not to have suffered at all. I want for it to have been quick and painless. We know nothing except he was identified through his fingerprints. No autopsy results yet. I could accept water in the lungs if I knew he'd been knocked unconscious before but we can't know that. I could pray for the autopsy to reveal huge brain trauma pre-mortem. But it's been a month and a half and he was apparently found very far away from the place where they were supposed to be, autopsies don't perform miracles and can only tell you so much, especially after all this time in extreme heat. So the best scenario is no water in the lungs and a broken neck.

I am praying that my Tig died ofg a brioken neck bcs that is the best I ccan wish for him, and it's killing me.

The End

Uzi's body has been found. Uzi is dead.

Uzi is dead.

Uzi is dead.

Uzi is dead.

Uzi is dead.

Uzi is dead

I wanted to explain why I feel like...

... but I really have nothing to say

And fuck that too

Depression score 2003: moderate to severe
Depression score 2004: moderate to severe
Depression score 2005: moderate to severe

Why the hell do people keep telling me I'm strong? It's one of the greatest mysteries of my life. I can't even be bothered to write abt it now. Just want to crawl under the nearest book and hide there for ever. Don't see how I can keep doing this, can't imagine the consequences of not doing it. Whichever way I look at it, whatever I choose to do, I'm fucked. Orgasmlessly.

Welcome to Vet School.

----------------------------
Oh, and to the male who found me through she was too tired i inserted in her ass slid behind:

1- I hope you never lose your finesse, your grammar, your elegant sense of timing
2- I hope one day you'll be too tired as well, and that she will just happen to be holding a rather robust carrot at that moment

Soul(d) to the Foxy Devil

I, Dahlings, am the most recent Firefox whore (BRITISH VERSION, mind. SO refreshing!). Dany and Lord Chimmy have been convincing. That, and everything else I've read abt it.

++++ Things that make my heart soar already:

• Select all is ctrl+A, as in Word. No more confusion and schizoid working personalities
• HUMONGOUS ADVANTAGE: bfr, to insert paragraphs, i had to select all, choose bulleted list, then undo it, erase all spaces btwn paragraphs and THEN press enter where i wanted them. Otherwise it'd all be lumped together. EXTREMELY aggravating. Now, an Enter is an Enter and the sun shines on.
• DITTO: I can write a post in word (in case Blogger EATS IT, as it is wont to do) and copy paste it and formatting is ALWAYS kept. Also, if I copy the post, erase it from the box and paste it again, why, formatting is STILL THERE!!!
• Opening Edit Posts is much, much faster now. All saving is much faster. In fact, EVERYTHING is faster. That leads me to believe maybe it wasn't all Blogger, maybe a lot of it was IE. Still, as my American friends would say, I'm not fully convinced of Blogger's innocence, I have issues!
  

-----Things that curb this love already:

• Yes, Dany, my drop-down menu DOES flicker when opened (VERY annoying)
• The spaces between the links are HUGE (also VERY annoying) [Fixed]
  
• Open documents are high on the page, most anti-anatomical
• How the hell do I underline now? Ctr+U is gone! Well not gone, it simply goes where no cat's wanted to go before.
• MORE IMPORTANTLY, why is the little pencil gone? You know, the shorcut for editing a post, at the bottom right corner? GONE. [Fixed]
  
• And also, when I use Find within the template, it doesn't find a thing! None of the words exist in its little mind.
• New HORRENDOUS one: when you have to fix a link inside a post, UNLIKE IE, Firefox anihilates the previous link when you open the hyperlink window. So, instead of just fixing it, you have to start all over again. ARGH!!!
  

Any of you F-harlots have any advice on how this can be corrected? And speaking of which, any tips? Words of caution? This is nerd territory, it's safe to comment. Do it anonymously if you will (BOOOOH) but tell me, why do you love it so? How has it changed your life? Sex drive? Diet? Will to live? Keep an eye on this post bcs I'll be updating the pros and cons.

Cyder House Rules

FYI, don't take the post below to mean you can't comment and disagree w whatever I've said in my blog. You're welcome to. In fact, during the evolution tribulations there was a long, healthy discussion going on and it was quite fun.

The rules are simple: a) don't dream of even thinking of telling me what to write, EVER; b) be polite. Other than that, knock yourselves out.

PS - My capslocks are emphasis, not shouting. Ocasionally they may be but only during my aggravated rants and then it becomes rather obvious.

Pest Control - Part II (UPDATE)

[Read post below for Jewish rant. NOTE: The main bit of this post isn't abt me, it's abt things I've been noticing and disliking in the blogosphere. I use me simply to make a point.]

I’ve been thinking a lot abt blogging etiquette for the past few months. It started at first bcs of the links, I wasn’t sure what the proper way to do things was. I’ve since realised there is NO proper way. Blogging should above all BE FUN for anyone doing it, regardless of the seriousness of the subjects one chooses to address. By fun I mean it should impart a sense of well-being. If it doesn’t something’s wrong. As for links, I’ve now decided everyone has to know what works for them. I link to people who don’t link to me. I’m linked to by people I don’t link to myself. It’s all good. And above all, it would NEVER, EVER cross my mind to beg ask someone to link me. WTF? What, they can’t make up their own minds? Oops, maybe they forgot? Everyone has to love me so much that I am linked regardless of them maybe having different personal preferences? Please! This is a grown-ups' game you know.

This is my blog. I alone decide abt EVERYTHING. I decide who is allowed into my inner and outer circles. I don’t have to be friends w everyone, regardless of common denominators. A blog should be a sanctuary and if I happen to be displeased or hurt by someone else's contents, I should just move along. Otherwise it’s a case of you want I should write to fulfil YOUR needs? And maybe then we can find a third party to write for MY OWN? And so forth and so on. Who the hell am I to give anyone grief unless they directly attacked me or my friends in an absolutely purposeful way? And even then I may choose just to laugh abt it bcs, let’s be honest, some trolls are hilarious and I am genuinely grateful for their entertainment value. At the end of the day, walking past an open window does NOT give me the right to make remarks abt the furniture. Reading other people’s blogs is a privilege I have, not my birth right. I do it bcs I am allowed in and, as all guests, it’s my obligation to be at least courteous to my hosts.

There is no statute of limitation for empathy or compassion. There is no rationed amount going round, that is simply a rationalisation of one's personal selfish needs. "So sorry, would love to help but I ran out of understanding last Thursday and haven't been able to replace it yet." What, do I by any chance sound dumb, or stupid? When liberally applied they have the ability to miraculously generate more and more - and they do appease and benefit BOTH parties if we can be bothered to see beyond our miser bellybutton. They are social enablers. Furthermore, NO ONE has a monopoly on pain. Pain is the ultimate equaliser, no one escapes it, and although there may be gradations it’s never perceived relatively bcs all we can really know is our own. Empathy only takes us so far. Implying that I am supposed to censor what I write bcs it might hurt you is implicitly telling me my pain is not as worthy as yours, my needs not as valid, and could I just shut the fuck up abt the things that are important to me right now, I’ll let you know when it’s ok, if ever. And most importantly, bcs this is how you show us what you truly are, if you demand that of me - are you ready to offer the same? Most likely not, takers aren't often givers.

Maybe your pain is indeed of a particular brand - but isn’t everyone’s?

Pest Control - Part I

Do you know what make my hair stand on end, what makes me snarl and sharpen my talons [winged Lionesses have them so be quiet], what makes me want to go straight for the jugulars? Absolutism. Absolute people. People who ALWAYS KNOW BETTER. People who are ALWAYS IN THE RIGHT.

I recently did some major blog culling, I had people in my faves I hardly ever visited so I decided to go take a good look. We were not amused.

Let’s tackle the Jews first, shall we? For God has spoken, and he has said: go out and behave like the sun shines out of your fish-gefillted arse, go out and REJOICE whenever one of THEM is killed, rejoice in the killing of your fellow humans, more so when they are ARABS for Arabia, ahhh, Arabia, Arabia has no place in our world. In fact, it does make me more than a bit uncomfortable that God has, indeed, been portrayed to have said similar things. Now, God may speak and I may listen but above all I choose. I choose how I want to honour being alive and able to choose. I choose how I want to act regarding those whose choices offend me. I choose how much bias I will let colour my views. Because biased we all are, make no mistake, but we are the ones that decide how much of it we inhabit.

You know I’m Jewish and proud of my heritage. I think Judaism is special, yes. You don’t know what grief that heritage has given me bcs I choose not to talk abt it here. Let’s say being Jewish is something I have to fight for and leave it at that. You also know I’m fiercely pro-Israel. Recent events have clouded my need for Eretz Israel but I expect it’s still there, buried under the rubble (absolutely no pun intended). And it can’t have escaped you that the Arab mentality AS A WHOLE, its unavoidable cultural determinations and what they mean to all of us, Arabs and infidels alike, scare the hell out of me and I am every day thankful that I wasn’t born in a society where my choices, my way of life, my liberties may be severely restricted. Let’s face it, my hands will not be chopped off for stealing. I will not be stoned to death bcs someone whispered “adultress”. I will not be killed so my virginity can be restored w my death. I am also thankful every day that the government does not make me abort a viable baby bcs it’s a female or I already have a child, that I am in no risk of being doused in gasoline and immolated so my husband can remarry and receive yet another outrageous dowry, that I have access to such impossible miracles as water, food, hospitals, schools, that I am, at all times, allowed to speak my mind and live my life as I want.

Religion may give us a frame from which to work and it may shape us to different degrees but above all, we are individuals w a certain amount of baggage, w a certain amount of experiences, with a certain amount of individual responsibility. And that responsibility is to, above all, be the best we can. I find it profoundly disturbing when Jews show a clear and distinct superiority over THEIR ENEMIES, THOSE FILTHY ARABS, by behaving in the very way that has caused THEIR ENEMIES, THOSE FILTHY ARABS, to be just that. I will tell you I shed no tears over Arab terrorists being killed. I will also tell you that if our boys start behaving in the same way, using my favourite rhetoric weapon, the “Yes it is wrong BUT” - I will shed no tears either and I don’t care how many times a day they daven. As far as I’m concerned, they can daven all the way out to the furthest corner of the earth.

Because the day I let my Judaism cloud my judgement as a whole, the day I let it overrule my ability for compassion and for acknowledging grey areas, the day it turns me into one of those dogs one sticks on the back of a car, blissfully nodding Amen to everything just bcs it was uttered by a Chose mouth, that day I will have lost myself and turned into the sort of person I would not like to meet, let alone be. I could still be pious but as a person, I’d be a bit of a shit wouldn’t I.

I am never dismissive of other faiths, as long as the believer acts in a way I find acceptable - and of course I get to choose, see above, I’m neither a nodding dog nor a bloody sheep. Conversely, I will not respect you because you are Jewish. I’ll be INCLINED TO, I’ll be PREPARED TO, but I will not. I’ll respect you only if you are indeed worthy of respect. And if you’re not, I’ll feel ashamed for you - and bcs that’s my particular bias, even more so. It's my home you're soiling.

[I’ll address the rest in Part II, this got a bit longish]

NOW.

"Bow your neck then under the staff"*

Farmers have my utmost respect, they live in absolute dependency of the weather, and theirs is a hard, demanding, never-ending job. The weather is not being kind, we are experiencing historical levels of drought. It has not rained in ages. My barometic forehead tells me we may experience some rain soon but surely not enough. Farmers have BEGGED to be allowed access to exclusive areas so their cattle can eat greenery instead of straw, they have BEGGED for the Calamity Fund to be activated. Our government did not think so. Our government does not think the situation warrants it. Our government is well fed and properly hydrated. Our government does not have to roam the fields gathering the dead bodies of cows, calves, sheep and kids who painfully died of thirst. Our government does not have to watch, hour after hour, as the orchards and crops wither away bcs the dam that waters them is almost empty and they are no longer allowed to water. The farmers are organising processions, begging God for rain. They can be seen walking the streets of their villages, holding candles, praying for rain. As the animal death toll rises, as plants and trees fade away, poverty and severe economic hardship will be the reality and heritage of these people once again. God may be far away but our government is right here. For us. Our government shames me.

So do my Porties often. We are a tiny, spoiled people. We mix an exaggerate amount of humility with a very peculiar brand of smugness. Porties always know best and should you find yourself lost in my country, dozens will come to your rescue, pointing in several conflicting directions at the same time. Or you may never reach your destination bcs you were forced to go invited for dinner and after copious doses of alcohol [oh just try this little wine here, só mais um copinho!] you may not even care where you end up. Because you see, we are very generous - but our attention span is very short. You go on the telly and tell people how you will never have a baby bcs you’re infertile and can’t afford treatment? The phones will be ringing off the hook w people offering you money, baby furniture, clinics will offer to treat you for free. And there’s this, remember this? But bcs we have ADD, do NOT ask us to use the right lane if we’re moving at 60Km/h. Do NOT ask us to stop for pedestrians. Do NOT ask us not to hold Europe’s #1 place in fatal road casualties bcs we’re roadkill and proudly so. Do NOT ask us to turn off our boilers when we leave the house bcs we don’t care abt the whole building exploding. And most definitely do NOT ask us to be careful abt water consumption, do not ask us to turn off the faucet when doing dishes, to turn off the faucet while brushing our teeth, to pay attention to how long we shower, and who ever heard of a sand-filled bottle in the toilet tank? We live by the ocean for fuck’s sake, it stands to reason there’s loads of water to go around! LOADS. So sorry abt the farmers but it doesn’t concern us, does it.

We’re not a plural, we’re not even a sum of individuals yet. We don’t have a discernible collective soul except when it comes to soccer. We’re an I and it’s all abt me.

We walk around as a nation strutting our big dick. Portugal, The Well-Hung. But as w all things phallic, it’s not only how big it is, is it. It’s how one uses it. And quite frankly, as dicks go, ours is nothing to write home about. Can’t blame the Porties for faking it.

------------------------------

*"Drought" by Anjela Duval

Have pity, Lord on the Earth!
O yes: I know you are patient
You had reason to be angry long ago
At prodigal and careless Humanity.
So the hour of Punishment has come.

Bow your neck then under the staff,
Bow your back and beat on your chest
\O proud Man with your science!
Unable to make a drop of rain.
For days and days
Weeks and months,
In which one observes the sky
In hope of a rainfall
On the dying earth.

Of your anger, Lord, Man was deserving,
But the animals and the plants?
They too are your creatures,
And they are innocent,
They have been obedient to you,
Why must they suffer?
Now the cricket is silent,
Now the bird is cut down,
The bare plain is muted.
The heifer bellows in the meadow
As dry as a desert
One's look is pained
When his eye falls on his dog,
Will there be enough bread in the house
To keep his companion alive?
...However
Lord we want to sing again
The Credo of the Peasant:
I believe in you, Master of Nature,
Who sows everywhere Life and Fertility...
But then quit your anger,
And command the Heavens
To moisten the Earth.
Amen!

My body,

I think, may just be turning into this. If you have psoriasis, the caption on this picture will have you laughing till you cry. TOO FUNNY!!!

Nosocomially yours - UPDATE

Do you know, I think I'm falling in love with bacteria a bit. They are so interesting, and have such different, er, personality traits! Some of them look downright cute, like Clostridium tetani, which looks like a tennis racquet because of its endospore. Things are slowly falling into place, I'm starting to believe I may yet learn something during this degree.

Don't forget to wash your fruit and vegetables thoroughly, beware of surfaces where you placed raw meat (your kitchen sink may have more pathogens than the toilet bowl) - and DON'T handle raw meat and touch anything else, have different cutting boards for meat and everything else [thanks Scully!], wash your hands often WITH SOAP and don't forget the faucet you just contaminated, scrub under your nails, don't start taking antibiotics just because, especially if you have the flu because it's VIRAL and it will not do a thing but fuck up your immunity and increase bacterial resistance to medication chances are you WILL need some day.

Are your tetanus shots updated? You do not want to mess with tetanus, believe me, the bacteria may look cute but this is how you die and no doctor will be able to help you. Your jaw will lock, first of all ("lockjaw"), and then slowly, as the toxins travel the neuropaths, all the muscles you usually control will seize up (this is no exaggeration). You will experience severe, painful spasms. You then, also slowly, suffocate because you can't DECIDE to breathe anymore, that's no longer your voluntary option. Very, very painful. Hardly anyone survives. How does this happen, you ask? I'M SO GLAD YOU DID! Small puncture wounds or abrasions (scraped skin) become contaminated, especially if dirty, with C. tetani's spores, which germinate and produce the toxins - it's the toxins that the bacteria produce that kill, actually, not the bacteria per se. The infection remains very often localised and with little inflammation, don't think you'll be alerted by the sight of a huge wound. And you will NOT have much time. If you've never been vaccinated, doing it AFTER the injury will NOT help you, it takes a while for immunity to develop. You need TETANUS IMMUNOGLOBULINS, which have an immediate, short-term effect. You will also STILL need the vaccine for long-term immunisation. If you were vaccinated over five years ago you will need a booster.

One to three shots (depends on which vaccine), at least 10 years of peace of mind, isn't it worth it? So don't be daft, protect yourself and most importantly, your kids.

This was your friendly medical announcement for the day. Now go out and do something dirty in a non-pathogenically related way. Shagging is allowed but remember that paragraph up there? RAW MEAT MAY KILL YOU, so make sure to wrap everything encondomly first should you choose to keep it casual. Resist TEMPTATION in any way you can!

[TG, the title is for you. Turn on your cell phone already!]

Survivors found on an island? Anyone?

Has anyone been able to read anything abt the 9 survivors found on an island off Banda Aceh? I have googled myself to death and the stupid thing refuses, REFUSES to give me any links of worth. You'd think it would be headlines! Or has it been too long and we've moved on? Probably old news. I'm so happy for them and their families, what a fucking miracle!

SEE WHY?

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UPDATE: Aaron gave me this link. I wish this whole thing were just an entry in his Encyclopaedia Erratica.

And then I wake up

Most of the time I convince myself all is well, all is normal. I do what I'm supposed to do. I eat, when I remember, I try to study, I tidied my flat yesterday, the housekeeper came today, my flat is all clean and nice-smelling and gorgeous and I did experience a profound sense of well-being today till I put the cream on. It seems like the tiniest things awaken the demons, and I am unfailingly surprised. The equivalent of trying to prevent an eruption by saying "Good boy, goood boy." I live my life, the one before me, and yet have this huge technicolour screen behind my brain, where Uzi figures permanently. I have flashbacks, I hear him say things he used to say, I see his smiles, his gestures, his quirks, I can almost touch him sometimes. It runs nonstop. The astonishing bit is, I find it normal. I sometimes open my mouth to say something and "Tig" slips out, and I cover it with some other word. I actually managed to convince myself this status quo could remain forever. Him missing, NOT DEAD, just missing, and me in Lalaland. I truly did. [Mind you, he's still alive. Somehow, somewhere. Lalaland, as I said.] My friend Tom rang me today. He's known me for almost 16 years, he knows all my stories, he calls me Erdnuss (Peanut) for a reason I'll explain one day. We hadn't talked for ages (he lives in Germany) and I had to tell him. I told him. It was hideous. It's different to tell someone who actually heard his stories as they were happening. He was a sweetie, he always is. And Tess-in-Hong-Kong sent me three beautiful emails in rapid succession in the past few days. These days, even a little kindness may undo me. And it's ultimately the thing that saves me. I know I'm out of my mind thinking I may skip the bulk of the pain. But my mind doesn't seem like a good place to be in right now. As I said, the demons are light sleepers and if it's not one thing it's another. The demons may soon turn into insomniacs. I too fear I will drown.

Phuck

Urea. The component of the cream I am to apply on my skin, twice daily.

Urea. The chief solid component of mammalian urine; synthesized from ammonia and carbon dioxide and used as fertilizer and in animal feed and in plastics (WordNet 2.0); one of the chief waste products of the body. When the body breaks down food, it uses what it needs and throws the rest away as waste. The kidneys flush the waste from the body in the form of urea, which is in the urine (diabetesindia.com)

Urea. The thing that stings like a motherfucking Portuguese man o’war, no pun intended.

Urea - Urine. SEE? A bloody waste product. Toxic! Our body has no use for it. Our body makes sure we flush it. We then flush it down, mostly not with whiskey. I get to liberally besmirch myself with it now and hope it will traumatise my psoriasis into leaving. And it hurts LIKE YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE. Why don’t I take a shortcut and go straight for the bleach.

Urea. Come round right after my evening shower and after I get up. You will be treated to the Pink Panther’s brand new dance of pain, and to the Pink Panther’s brand new adaptation, Pamaze: the panting that is supposed to help - but doesn’t.