“Hanged Man” is a work of fiction, and as such the usual disclaimer text that ‘any resemblance between the characters herein and real persons living or otherwise is purely coincidental’ applies. Allow me to stress that this applies especially to the character of the wife, who bears no resemblance whatsoever to any wife I have ever known, especially my own. While my own wife is as dedicated and loving as Mrs. Ron, the wife in Hanged Man, this resemblance is purely coincidental and she most definitely lacks both Mrs. Ron’s murderously vengeful streak and her inability to listen to reason.
Yearly Archives: 2003
Kite festival
The local town threw their first kite festival, and they got everything perfect. We drove past early this afternoon when it was just getting started: crisp, sunny fall day. Lots of wind. Dozens of colorful kites of all different sizes and designs just beginning to ascend.
Thirty meters away, massive high tension power lines.
Posted in Metamorphosism
The World Analgesia Association
It was late, Clark the Orderly With One Leg Shorter Than The Other had just wheeled out the last client of the day, into Recovery and I was spraying air freshener around the evaluation room when Professor K. came onto the intercom and asked to see me.
Posted in Metamorphosism
Power
Recently in a bookstore I was thumbing through a handsome book about something about 48 rules of power or something, 48 compulsions habits of powerful people or I don’t know what. It was the German translation, but I found a link to the English original (?) at Amazon. Save your money, although I only glanced at like one chapter and the table of contents, it’s clearly a bullshit book. The rules could all be boiled down to “don’t get caught being a sneaky, venal weasel” and if that was all there is to gaining power I’d be president. If that was all there is to it, then why is the author of that book writing – let’s face it – self-help books for unethical bastards instead of, you know, having power lunches with someone famous?
In fact, if you have time and need a laugh, it might be worthwhile to click on that amazon link. I suppose the content of that page is dynamic, but today, it includes a “Better Together” tip (save money by buying this book together with “Get Anyone to Do Anything”); as well as a nice list of People who Bought This Book Also Bought (The Art of Seduction, Never be Lied to Again: How to Get the Truth in Any Conversation or Situation in Five Minutes or Less, Get Anyone to Do Anything and Never Feel Powerless Again…).
Come to think of it, it might be fun to attend a reading of one of these books, just to check out the audience. One says, in the readers’ reviews, “This book is based on historical research going back 3000 years!” In a way, every book is. And this very blog post is “based on a writing system five thousand years in the making.”
Posted in Metamorphosism
Ike & Ng
The first time you lose one, it is a surprise. Then you get used to it, and develop of a routine as far as reanimation goes. Flat-line, get out the defibrillator, et cetera. When a client went into cardiac arrest, it was usually the combination of Shooting, Stabbing or Sharp (few made it to Splitting) with Fearful or Punishing-Cruel, and it usually happened around Distressing or Horrible. Stress and fear seemed to play as great a role in cardiac arrest among clients as did the actual intensity of pain. Most clients hit the panic button before they even made it that far.
Posted in Metamorphosism
Mail-order bride
Like being married to a beautiful woman who’s sick all the time.
Like being married to a beautiful Russian woman who doesn’t speak a word of English, doesn’t like me and lies about the house all day scarfing unusual ethnic food, running up a huge phone bill with long-distance calls then goes out at night for a pack of cigarettes and returns at eleven the following morning hungover with a fresh tattoo (“Property of Vladimir” in Gothic script) on her ass.
- Don’t mind me, I’m just trying to devise a proper simile for my cello-learning experiences thus far.
Cello is proceeding wonderfully. I still love the instrument; the love remains unrequited. My continuing frustration has been mitigated by several things lately, however. One is simply noticing that despite it all, I am making progress. I can hear notes, whether the intonation is right or not, but beyond that I seem to be rather unmusical. Or I was expecting too much to start with; I know that I am too impatient. I think that after all this time, though, I should be able to figure out a piece without my teacher having to tell me every picky little detail of the tune. You know – where each finger goes for each note. It’s in fact not all that bad, but it seems that way. Perhaps the increasing complexity of the pieces I’m learning (currently a few Offenbach duets) makes it seem more static than it is.
Positive cello experiences: Gamma’s friend was over. I was practicing. “What’s that beautiful music?” she asked my wife. She asked if she could watch.
Another day: another Gamma friend came into the room to watch. “Wow! That’s the biggest fiddle I’ve ever seen!!”
Someday I’ll have a positive cello experience that doesn’t involve a six-year-old girl. Not that there’s anything wrong with them.
Posted in Metamorphosism