(no subject)
9 May 2006 03:03![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skonen_bladesIt’s almost halfway through the year. Mother’s day is coming up. As well as my mother’s birthday.
My father died not too long ago. I remember when I look at pictures of him and I think it has something to do with why I’m trying to keep as insanely busy as I can be right now. His funeral was on Valentine’s day.
My emotions hide thickly behind my teeth.
I can’t even measure the need I have right now to be comforted. I also cannot measure the wall that will not allow anyone the privilege of being there for me.
Pause.
Hey look! Insane ceramic pigs!
I did the census online.
And people complain about there not being any flying cars.
There’s nothing romantic about flesh that’s so fragile, so prone to disease. I remember once I got a staff infection in my hands. They swelled up to oven mitt size. I swear each of them tripled in weight. They were covered in little pimple-like sores. Slick with pus and bright red. I remember at it’s height that if you looked at them and really concentrated, you could actually see them pulse redder and paler, redder and paler, just like a cartoon.
I had the first little sore on Friday, there were crazy unusable balloon animals by Sunday afternoon. We went to emergency.
I took some antibiotics. Two days later my hands were fine. It was like a magic trick. The infection spread so unbelievable quick. And was reversed in an equally short time.
Just a hundred years ago or so, I would have been made handless.
I get angry at people who stay in the way of medical progress because of religious reasons. I understand the moral implications of cloning cheap labour or organs. I understand the moral problems inherent in making nanotech that eats oil or cancer. Bring on the borg. Resistance is ignorant. Just call me Half a dozen of One or Six of the Other. Let my blood sing of immortality in the hive. Let my conciousness be shared. Let the loneliness I feel right now be avoidable. Unlock this brain and set it free. Enhance this body past worry.
If got had meant us to fly he would have given us wings? Bah.
I bet Icarus laughed all the way to his death.
My father died not too long ago. I remember when I look at pictures of him and I think it has something to do with why I’m trying to keep as insanely busy as I can be right now. His funeral was on Valentine’s day.
My emotions hide thickly behind my teeth.
I can’t even measure the need I have right now to be comforted. I also cannot measure the wall that will not allow anyone the privilege of being there for me.
Pause.
Hey look! Insane ceramic pigs!
I did the census online.
And people complain about there not being any flying cars.
There’s nothing romantic about flesh that’s so fragile, so prone to disease. I remember once I got a staff infection in my hands. They swelled up to oven mitt size. I swear each of them tripled in weight. They were covered in little pimple-like sores. Slick with pus and bright red. I remember at it’s height that if you looked at them and really concentrated, you could actually see them pulse redder and paler, redder and paler, just like a cartoon.
I had the first little sore on Friday, there were crazy unusable balloon animals by Sunday afternoon. We went to emergency.
I took some antibiotics. Two days later my hands were fine. It was like a magic trick. The infection spread so unbelievable quick. And was reversed in an equally short time.
Just a hundred years ago or so, I would have been made handless.
I get angry at people who stay in the way of medical progress because of religious reasons. I understand the moral implications of cloning cheap labour or organs. I understand the moral problems inherent in making nanotech that eats oil or cancer. Bring on the borg. Resistance is ignorant. Just call me Half a dozen of One or Six of the Other. Let my blood sing of immortality in the hive. Let my conciousness be shared. Let the loneliness I feel right now be avoidable. Unlock this brain and set it free. Enhance this body past worry.
If got had meant us to fly he would have given us wings? Bah.
I bet Icarus laughed all the way to his death.
