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It was not as inelegant as when I was bleeding the plumbing scarlet some nights ago, but it was still a fairly shaky proposition. I rock in such an inside out way. Not a trace of infection, and this time I could get all the excess blood off the skin around the horrific wound. All kine Hibiclens and hydrogen peroxide and silver bandage AND fancy antibiotic ointment, the frickin' works, padded and wrapped with gauze and sticky stretchy wrap AND paper tape... listening to BB2's show the while and having to run over to my machine to skip the too excitable numbers... and right in the middle of it all my nose started running water as hard as I was bleeding the other night... ridiculous... but nothing is falling off the shelves, my coffee has been going into my mouth and down my throat... oh... AND DID I MENTION NOT A TRACE OF INFECTION?
I ROCK!
... inside out and with my right big toe wiggling out my left ear. I haven't gone back to check but I think I mangled myself the first night after the WikiLeaks release and have not had the stomach to face this—preferring my finger fall off—until just this very now. Neither have I bathed, not wanting to get the bandage wet, and I can barely stand to sit next to myself... so a spit bath with surgical scrub is next.
I WILL BE FRESH AS A DAISY WHEN THEY COME TO HAUL ME OFF.
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I mean, that bread knife is some kine seriously serrated and so—no shit—so is the whole top of my left index finger. It still makes my insides hop to look at it, but it's flippin' gorgeous right now compared to the carnage the other night. There is a possibility I may live... which, right now, doesn't sound that appetizing, but, hell, maybe I will wake up from this coma in some hospital somewhere and the Age of Aquarius will turn out to have been in full swing all these terrifying years....
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love, 99
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04 December 2010
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