George,
I was pretty candid with my friends last night and this morning. I am afraid that I will find all of this embarrassing in a few hours. I am not sure how lucid I am. But now I will be totally honest with you, too.
I do not expect you to respond to this because I am probably just gassing.
So, I have this funny feeling that your e-mail correspondences with me must ultimately be ironical-that they must just some kind of ongoing joke that you (and maybe Kate) like to giggle about periodically.
But then of course, my emails are usually too boring to joke about. Sometimes they are weird. Very, very weird. And this is probably not due to any quality I possess. I think the weirdness is just the result of some kind of performance, some kind of acting. Acting. I always declined Kate and Itkin’s requests for me to audition for productions because I felt that I had done enough acting.
And to be quite honest, I am not sure what that means.
I am pretty sure that practically everything I ever (have ever written) wrote (in the quasi-literary sense of ‘write’) meant absolutely nothing and had no sense. This does not really bother me anymore because I (think I) have abandoned all (quasi-)literary pretensions.
And when I think about myself most of the time, I come to the conclusion that there is really noting I can do. But that’s okay. Every day I become more comfortable with that.
The funny thing is that I have always really known it would turn out this way. I feel like I could see this point of my life at the age of ten or eleven. And I feel like I can see the end now. Of course it’s all just hubris. I am just being a jaded young person. Nothing surprises me. Hubris.
Prediction: The rest of my life will be like some unbearable Sunday. One sits on the couch and waits for something to happen. One fidgets. One’s hands are clammy. It’s too bright outside, too still, and too quiet. But there will finally be anonymity and a guarantee of total privacy. I will have to hide nothing because no one will be looking. And there will be nothing to look at.
(I have failed to express what I wanted to express)
I have learned a number of things about Leo.
Here is an example.
I sat with Leo and discussed some of his behavior - e.g.
A)
We were in the kitchen and he made a sexual comment about Christina. He expressed his desire to have sex with her. I cannot recall the details. But as far as I can remember, there was nothing unusual about the comment. Many boys our age make such comments.
I found the comment disgusting, but my disgust was not the result of deliberation or reflection. I am just talking about a brute psychic state with no thought behind it: a reaction.
Now, I have given some thought to this reaction. I think it might have been the result of: i) K’s past involvement with Christina and ii) Leo’s (currently rocky) relationship with K.
To explain: I think that I must have been disappointed that Leo would (ostensibly) rank his sexual desires over K’s feeliings. Of course I realize that Leo was probably just thinking out loud. Again, Leo’s expression was typical of boys our age and might have had no connection with an actual desire to engage in a sexual act (I am tentative here). It might have been nothing but a humorous comment.
Still, I was disgusted. It occurred to me that I could not blame Leo for the reaction. Leo just said something, and then I experienced a feeling of disgust. I do not think Leo could have had any grounds to believe that his comment would disgust me. Here we have a bad result that (perhaps) could not have been helped.
I expressed this to Leo.
B)
My conversations with Leo are usually like this:
Me: I do not think that is the case; X.
Leo: NO! NO! It is the case a, b, c, d,e,f,g and Y and Z and Q.
Me: But-
Leo: h,i,j,k,l,m,n,o,p and Q and oh yeah F and I am going to talk about O for some reason.
Me: Yet-
Leo: q,r,s,t,u,v,w,x,y,z It was nice talking to you.
And by this I mean to express that our conversations seem like a very remote semblance of a dialogue. Usually Leo will say what he wants to say (and more) while steamrolling the possibility of any input from the other party.
I do not think he does this intentionally. But I told him that it bothered me, and asked Leo not to do it anymore. Leo expressed a desire not to do this anymore.
Half an hour later Leo did just this - the steamrolling. I told him to stop. MF told him to stop. Leo said he would stop, stopped, and then started steamrolling again.
I have realized this is just what Leo does. Which is to say, as far as I can tell, this type of behavior is nothing but an impulse.
I do not know if I can blame a person for having an impulse any more than a person can blame me for having certain psychic states.
(I thought I would mull over this for a while, especially the last part, but I don’t care anymore. Enjoy.)
Naturally, there is much to say.
This is an image from my bowels, around the colon, taken during a colonoscopy. The procedure was prompted by an episode of nausea and vomiting, which the physicians attributed to a “dilation” of my lower bowel tract. If I am imagining this correctly, the dilation must have been something like a prolonged contraction that interrupted the normal function of the intestines.
I never thought to ask about the source of the pain associated with the dilation. I can see how the pain might have been caused by the contraction itself, but I can also see how the pain might have been a result of the contraction, particularly from the retained abdominal gases and feces.
In any case, the episode went like this:
10/25
i) I ate a large meal and became drowsy, napped, and awoke to a pressure near my groin, around the bladder. The pressure at this time was very faint and did not strike me as unusual.
ii) I produced a small bowel movement (about the size of a pea pod) and noticed that the abdominal pressure did not diminish. Over a period of a half hour, the pressure increased, and my gut appeared to distend, slightly. I freed the first button on my trousers.
iii) A period of painful cramping began. I immediately suspected food poisoning. I recalled that in the past, I had experienced similar cramping after eating bad potatoes. I waited for a purge, but no heaves came, so I could not decide what to make of my symptoms. I began pacing. I suspected appendicitis.
iv) I vomited profusely. Between two of the purges I broke into a cold sweat. After vomiting, the abdominal pain increased, contrary to my expectations. It began to pulsate and make its way through my torso. At times, the pain almost seemed to behave like a soundwave, as it would become localized south of my sternum, briefly disappear, and reappear near my spine, like it was bouncing off the walls of my rib cage.
v) I wrapped myself in a blanket. I got through the night in a state between sleep and alertness, yes, like that state a bad flu can put one into; waking dreams.
vi) I took the public bus service to the hospital and walked into the emergency room.
It was nice to become hydrated. While waiting to see a physician, I took notes on the sounds of the emergency ward. The lines below amount to thirty seconds of the ER ward:
oh baktaaaaaaomigoda ct scan is arabic and grandma dommt speek anglish at all are you normally like that you got to urinate real often beep beep beep ring er ward gimme milk i want some milk
After an hour, a phyiscian appeared.
“Well, let’s see here. What’s been going on?”
“Last night, I noticed a pressure in my abdomen. It grew, became painful, and then I vomited the contents of my stomach. My bowel movements have been insignificant.. I have not produced a bowel movement since yesterday.”
“What color were.. uh.. your stools?”
“Colorado brown, naturally.”
“Uhh.. now, have you been having any weird sex?”
“Um. Well, um, no.”
“Okay, so we will order an x-ray and get you on some antibiotics.”
Later, the surgeon came in.
“Hi there, I’m Doctor D.”
“Hello, I’m Robert.”
“So, I hear you have been experiencing nausea and vomiting, haven’t been able to go to the bathroom.”
“That’s right.”
“Soo.. have you.. uhhh.. been putting anything unusual in your butt, have you been having any rough sex?
“Uh. No. I haven’t had any sex in months as a matter of fact. You know, even rough, kinky sex would be nice.”
“Haa.. so.. We’ll have you drink this tracer stuff and we’ll see what’s going on. We are probably going to monitor you overnight.”
“How long do you think I’ll be in?”
“No telling. We might have to operate.”
“Fantastic.”
After drinking the barium, the radiology people performed an intial x-ray. Then some kid wheeled me to my room. My parents were away, in South America. I contacted my sister, and we decided that we should not contact them. I occupied myself by studying.
Simon visited on the third day. I wrote about this in my notepad, but I have lost it. As usual, he had something interesting to say.
On the 28th, a Dr. S. appeared. He was one of those very animated fat bear men. S remarked that before my discharge it would be smart to do a colonoscopy to look for abnormalities.
“But you’ll have to drink this really nasty salty stuff - a laxative.”
“Bring it on.”
“Really?” (I don’t understand why he reacted this way - he was in a state of disbelief.)
“Fuck yeah.”
I actually thought the laxative was really tasty.
The next day, they wheeled me down to the colonoscopy room. As I laid in my gurney in a holding area, I could hear an old man moaning.
An adjunct told me she would administer fentanyl. I watched as she routed the syringe into my IV and punched the plunger home. I tried to fight it.
Dr. S. appeared and said something.
“When you put the camera in my ass - I would like copies,” I said.
After this, I can only remember thinking of something very hard. My concentration broke, and I realized I was back in my room, watching Animal Planet.
Fentanyl will always be my drug of choice. There is simply nothing else like it. The oblivion it produces cannot be paralleled. I think Ingmar Bergman liked it too. Once, during an account of a hospital visit, Bergman mentioned that a nurse injected him with something:
(roughly)
“To exist.. and then to take this something.. to exist, and then, to not exist. This non-existence is.. is wonderful.”
This level of anesthesia has always given me a feeling of privacy that I have never been able to attain otherwise. And there is an anonymity, like I have disappeared, or if I have not disappeared, then that I have become a dumb object without worries or responsibilities. There is an almost unimaginable womb-like warmth, totally encapsulating and fuzzy, but strong and impenetrable, like an armor.
When I wake up, I usually wonder why people put so much effort into other novelties, other external things that cannot rival this opiate. I usually draw a blank.
Two years ago, during a conversation with the family doctor (and a few days after a dose of fentanyl), I made similar remarks. The doctor noted that he thought it was unhealthy for me to think that way, and said that he suspected depression.
But I do not think this is the case, per se. It is just the expression of a preference, the act of pointing out something good when one sees it. My life has been kind of like a cartoon for the past few years. There are pictures that move around, some sounds. I can’t control them, they just happen. People come into my life and leave. No control, it just happens. I’ve got a body that I cannot really control. Things just happen. So, I worry a little bit. But there is a state in which there is no need to control, because nothing happens.
So much for fentanyl.
10/30
A female physician found a protuberance in my bowels after the colonoscopy, during a final radiological procedure. Before I underwent this procedure, Dr. D told me that he would be very surprised if they found anything in the locus they were surveying. I do not yet know what the protuberance is. I never scheduled my post-discharge checkup. I was too busy with school. I like school. It is practically the only thing that I enjoy.
(düde)
