Friday, September 5, 2008

Operation Enduring Freedom, PART I: Lots of Dogs

I realize the last post is a bit of a down note. I hate to end on something that depressing, for now, but the cracked ribs have prevented me from sleeping. I'm simply too tired to add anything brain-heavy for today, and even if I weren't tired, I'm currently a little loopy from doubling up on "Tramadol." Don't worry, the bottle says I can do this.

I suppose ideally — to the pharmacological mindset — I would be doing this in response to exceptional pain and not because the drug itself is some trifling BS. The latter describes my current situation. As my stepmother, a former emergency room nurse put it, they don't give you anything good anymore. It's true. Despite my dearest hopes, and despite what Tramadol's name suggests, I have done nothing close to coming unstuck in time.

For now, I would like to profoundly thank my friend Devri — who is a perfectly normal person apart from enjoying knitting — for displaying enough of an admixture of concern and job-loathing to google Tramadol and come up with a site devoted to Tramadol Abuse, which had this provocative question at the bottom: When Is It Best to Take Crack Cocaine?

The question links to, where it is answered thus:
There is perhaps a single predictable time of life when taking crack-cocaine is sensible, harmless and both emotionally and intellectually satisfying. Indeed, for such an occasion it may be commended. Certain estimable English doctors were once in the habit of administering to terminally-ill cancer patients an elixir known as the "Brompton cocktail". This was a judiciously-blended mixture of cocaine, heroin and alcohol. The results were gratifying not just to the recipient. Relatives of the stricken patient were pleased, too, at the new-found look of spiritual peace and happiness suffusing the features of a loved one as (s)he prepared to meet his or her Maker.

Drawing life to a close with a transcendentally orgasmic bang, and not a pathetic and god-forsaken whimper, can turn dying into the culmination of one's existence rather than its present messy and protracted anti-climax.
That paragraph links to this site,, which establishes as a mission statement:
BLTC RESEARCH was founded in 1995 to promote paradise-engineering. We are dedicated to an ambitious global technology project. BLTC seek to abolish the biological substrates of suffering. Not just in humans, but in all sentient life.

Life on earth can be animated by gradients of ecstatic well-being beyond the bounds of normal human experience.

In the end, the greatest obstacles to lifelong superhealth and a cruelty-free world may prove ideological, not technical. BLTC RESEARCH campaign to promote paradise-engineering as a rigorous academic discipline and a mature applied science.
All of which sounds really cool and all — I think a strate is a really big mogul you can get air off of while boarding, so a substrate of suffering would be, like, a totally hating snowditch in the middle of the run — but there's absolutely no message or infographic anywhere on the front page of explaining what the hell this has to do with bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches, which is just really wasteful and stupid web design.

Now, personally, I have no idea why a friend of mine would immediately consult a website devoted to addiction to a drug the moment I indicated that I was taking that particular drug. I'm going to attribute such behavior to the yarn-knitter — just another social tic accompanying the tick, tick, tick-ticking of the knitting needles that resonates like the knitting of some hideous hand within the habitual knitter's mind.

As said, the bottle indicates two pills at a time is perfectly fine. So, while I'm sure that by Saturday the pain will have subsided to the point that it's bearable with ibuprofen alone (at which point, the pills get shelved for some future knee-wrenching injury), for now these weak bastards are going to do double-duty to actually inhibit pain the way some fool idealist thinks they possibly can.

For now, to end on a more positive note, I leave you with this.

I could stare at this for hours. It just keeps... enduring.

Back tomorrow.

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