your absolute ultimate

My local medical professional informed me that I have a sinus infection and two ear infections. Strangely, I was very happy with that diagnosis; there’s nothing worse than going to the doctor and having them tell you there’s nothing wrong.

She gave me the Z-Pack, which is what happens when robots run pharamaceutical companies. I had to take a double dose yesterday, and I can smell it on my breath this morning. While that’s kind of an unpleasant thought, it seems to be working. I can almost hear today! Hooray for technology. And yogurt. If you’re a girl, you know why this is critical.

Also, the thing I forgot to mention while I was consumed with renewed terror about The Greek yesterday: we saw Mike Doughty at First Ave on Sunday night. I love that man, and I’ve seen him live more than any other performer*. I love him most for his writing; he has a way of evoking an entire universe in two or three words, the kind of incisive expression that makes you not want to even bother anymore. And since I’ve been on a literary kick lately (others’ writing, obviously… you’re unlikely to see anything over three syllables ’round these parts), and also because I’m having more words permanently added to my body tomorrow, I would like to share with you with one of my favorite poems by Mike Doughty.

Butter / Lost
Against hands, a smooth
is smoothed around
and skin
rushed up to it,
cooing sweat like a whistle
defecting a steampipe.

Oiled, the machine chuffs,
and the brain is dry, and the nerves
scurry off with message to no one
in charge, while this equals this;
two arms locked into each other
are without a mind to differentiate
between limbs and hips, therefore,
I have come here to get lost.

Recently I’ve been working on wave 428 of my personal finance revisions, and this one involves having two checking accounts. All my bills and money that’s destined for savings and investments will stay in my credit union account to be doled out by robots, and all my discretionary funds will be handed by Wachovia. I like this because it’s the account that transfers $1 to savings every time you use your debit card. With that kind of plan, I’ll be rich in approximately three days. Or I’ll run through my absurdly large amount of set-aside discretionary cash too quickly, and come to the realization that I’d make a really shitty ascetic.

Eh, I pretty much knew that already.


* My second-most-seen is Chris Cornell. Yes, I am indeed old enough to have seen everyone from the Nirvana era live. And I miss Soundgarden sometimes.

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