CHAPTER XVI: Special Methods of Examination ...165

samm just asked me how to say "bat" in french - "bat, like the flying animal." i haven't responded; i don't know. yet i know that i probably should know, and i know that i probably should look it up. but i'm not going to, and this, i know, is probably a sign of my lazy downfall. sorry, samm. give "le rodent aux ailes" a try - maybe someone would believe you, and that's probably all that matters. on the off-chance that they don't, however, i recommend looking askance, humming an unfamiliar tune, and changing the subject: "were you aware that coleridge's 'this lime-tree bower my prison' was resultant of his wife spilling a pot of scalding hot milk on his foot? ahem, yesyes, quite..."

tomorrow i'm getting on a plane for california. i spent most of this evening listening to rufus wainwright's "california" and the decemberists's "los angeles, i'm yours" in rotation. neither of them have anything particularly good to say about the west coast, but i, self-indulgently, appreciate anything that gives a direct reference to tomorrow's destination; both of these songs ought to figure prominently on my mile-high playlist, as well.

the other day, while perusing the dollar books in a skowhegan thrift store, i stumbled upon what many outdated medical procedure guide book collectors (i leave the syntax and semantics of those last few words up to you) must only dream of: a 1942 edition of "Gynecology for Nurses." yes, it's that special; special enough for me to capitalize it properly. anyway, this little guide book is complete with drawn and labeled diagrams, detailed, and slightly antiquated, descritpions, and an entire chapter wholly devoted to the procedural instructions for seven different types of enemas. holy crap (and lots of it!), what a find. i'm toying with the idea of toting my little gem on the plane with me, you know, just to catch up on the old endocrine system and completely disgust/horrify/amuse/intrigue my on-flight neighbour. but who knows, perhaps there are more vital reasons for me to bring along the guide: there could be turbulence, displacements, infections, heck! a woman could go into labour - i would be the only one qualified to deal with the situation! if it were 1942, anyway.

o, sinnerselves!

today i sinned against myself; i violated every principle i've ever almost had. i say almost because, for the most part, i consider myself a rather unprincipled person. sure, i've got my strong inclinations for or against certain actions or ideas, but these, i think, are more in accordance with my own human nature than with any sort of moral statutes i may have consciously or unconsciously delineated (all of this is, of course, simply my feeble attempt at self-exculpation - something i schemed up on my guilt trip of a getaway). principles, i told myself, my white knuckles crowning the steering wheel and my chest heaving away at sharp pains, are needless shackles one latches onto oneself to sidestep the risks and effort of individual judgement calls. but me, i'm a free sprit, i'm above such principles. i'm guided by my inclinations but am not a slave to them; i realize when it's ok to be "bad." my cheeks, much to my surprise (i never was much of a blusher), were flushing red at this point - but red with what, i couldn't say. indignation? if i felt indignation, it was only indignation towards myself. or maybe it was the thrill of the chase - the thrill of my renegade body stealing away from its inclinations, holding my mind hostage. but this game of mental man-hunt cannot go on forever, i (whichever part of me is "i") strove to unite my divided selves. justify, justify, justify, come back, slow down, relax. and so i justified, and breathed, and wrote. and here we all are, i think, at peace with our decisions and conclusions, amending our strict inclinations, while better training them for the next chase.

my summer job

in pictures: