Jul. 14th, 2010

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User's Guide to Physical Debilitation

Should the painful condition of irreversible paralysis
last longer than forever or at least until
your death by bowling ball or illegal lawn dart
or the culture of death, which really has it out
for whoever has seen better days
but still enjoys bruising marathons of bird watching,
you, or your beleaguered caregiver
stirring dark witch's brews of resentment
inside what had been her happy life,
should turn to page seven where you can learn,
assuming higher cognitive functions
were not pureed by your selfish misfortune,
how to leave the house for the first time in two years.
An important first step,
with apologies for the thoughtlessly thoughtless metaphor.
When not an outright impossibility
or form of neurological science fiction,
sexual congress will either be with
tourists in the kingdom of your tragedy,
performing an act of sadistic charity;
with the curious, for whom you will be beguilingly blank canvas;
or with someone blindly feeling their way
through an extended power outage
caused by summer storms you once thought romantic.
Page twelve instructs you how best
to be inspiring to Magnus next door
as he throws old Volkswagens into orbit
above Alberta. And to Betty
in her dark charm confiding a misery,
whatever it is, that to her seems equivalent to yours.
The curl of her hair that her finger knows
better and beyond what you will,
even in the hypothesis of heaven
when you sleep. This guide is intended
to prepare you for falling down
and declaring détente with gravity,
else you reach the inevitable end
of scaring small children by your presence alone.
Someone once said of crushing
helplessness: it is a good idea to avoid that.
We agree with that wisdom
but gleaming motorcycles are hard
to turn down or safely stop
at speeds which melt aluminum. Of special note
are sections regarding faith
healing, self-loathing, abstract hobbies
like theoretical spelunking and extreme atrophy,
and what to say to loved ones
who won't stop shrieking
at Christmas dinner. New to this edition
is an index of important terms
such as catheter, pain, blackout,
pathological deltoid obsession, escort service,
magnetic resonance imaging,
loss of friends due to superstitious fear,
and, of course, amputation
above the knee due to pernicious gangrene.
It is our hope that this guide
will be a valuable resource
during this long stretch of boredom and dread
and that it may be of some help,
however small, to cope with your new life
and the gradual, bittersweet loss
of every God damned thing you ever loved.

by Paul Guest
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I'm a little late out of the house today, but that's not entirely unexpected; yesterday I was working from morning to 11pm, today will be a repeat but it will at least end at sunset.

I need to make time to water my garden; maybe Thursday I'll start a little later, it's a shorter day. My tomatoes need it soon. My mint needs it sooner.

I have help today at work; this may prevent me from dying this year.

I'll be taking in two foster rats, old ladies whose owner is moving to Toronto. Not sure when I meet them.

This weekend is starting to look kind of fubar'd. The only ride down to the states seems to be Friday after work (what time, Andi?) and the return Sunday sometime (?) which would mean a 60-hour-ish work-week capped by basically not being at home until theoretically evening Sunday. That's not impossible, but very unkind to myself, and I am practicing self-care lately thanks to some journalling epiphanies (you know, the repeated 'it's okay to be nice to yourself' ones?).

Really wanted to make the Cancer party though. GARGH. Don't have time to call people and plan rides and stuff; am working ALL THE TIME.

Will at least try to get info from Andi and Cella and see if things can't be made to work.

Things. They happen.

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