introspective periscope : peeking inside since Y2K ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- On the Dillusion of Sunburn nearing midnight - ninth of april, 2001-like a blister in the sun- "let me go on like a blister in the sun."~violent femmes i got up early at first. having taken the pink insulation from my windows, the sounds of traffic are intrusive and disruptive of my sweet slumber, where dreams have been vivid and lovely. the traffic starts at nine o'clock in the morning and i suppose that that isn't really "early" to those people who have to be at work at that time every day. but to me, a college student who hasn't got a class earlier than one fifteen (and THAT is only twice a week) its damned early. i like waking up with out an alarm. i like the feeling of a full nights (nights? I suppose i can't call when i sleep "night" persae) sleep. I don't mind getting up early, though, sometimes....like those mornings when nacho and i would wake each other up and go to the library to write papers or go to the ceramics lab. i liked having the feeling of the day stretched out before me, having hours and hours sprawled there to be filled with constructive (or non constructive, for that matter) activity; of having all the time in the world before the sun sets. still, i have always been and always will be a night owl. the sun is lovely, but it hasn't the divinity of the lesser lights: the moon and stars. there's a lot more religion and relaxation and contemplation in the moon...it changes and changes, trying on different outfits, trying on different roles....and i love that. the sun...is like a catholic schoolgirl stuck in the same damned uniform day in and day out and thats so....boring to me. sure, you make those plants grow, meester sun, but you made my skin blister like hot pavement in the city. i went back to sleep again when the traffic died, laying stiff and motionless and uncomfortably on the flannel sheets that i will soon exchange for cotton when i go home this weekend. i didn't move, for fear that the thickness of the flannel would rip into my flesh and cause me to bleed profusely. i attempted a shower, my first big mistake of the day...and quite possibly my ONLY mistake. heh. we have water pressure in our house that many envy; we have water pressure in our house that makes me sing in delight in the shower. we have water pressure in our house that is like machine gun bullets on my sensitive skin. i hurried as quickly as i could, wincing and holding my breath, eduring the masochism as best i could. i dressed in the easiest softest cotton button front shirt i had and pedaled off on my favourite bike, the maroon nimble with the orange and yellow detail and the big basket on the front, to the health centre, for i needed an excuse for having missed work on sunday night. i think i must've been the first burn victim that the campus health centre has seen in some time: every nurse came in and winced or gave another look of pity with a hint of disgust that only these blisters or blisters much like them can conjure. "yes," i lied..."this happened in a few hours in the grove." I didn't tell them that a "few hours" was really about seven hours. i didn't tell them about my efforts to defy the sun. "morphine," he said in a thick indian accent that i like to hear in a campus doctor. everything has been so euphoric and exotic in this mental state of anguish and pain that the small details seem to strike me most. his accent was divine. it made me think of a boy in johnstown that brought me flowers. he was the only boy to ever just bring me flowers. but, as that old Speculum song goes (and yes, i realize that only a handfull of you know who Speculum is because it is really only a band in theory....but fucking FUNNY theory) "just because he brings you flowers doesn't mean you have to give up the....." Heh. But where was I? Ah, yes... "morphine. i theenk you need morphine for dee pain, mebbe, you theenk?" My eyes must have twinkled in delight at the very thought of it. Lines from the Crow flashed into my head, information about morphine that i'd read tickertaped across the screen inside my eyelinds (the one where everything moves across in text. what? you don't have that? pshaw!) My eyes must have twinkled because he changed his mind. "ehhh. mebbe just adveel weel do, ehhh?" I don't know how one makes a jump from morphine to advil. I felt the urge to reach out, grab the man, and strangle him. I felt the desire to point to my blistering skin and exclaim, "HELLO! I AM IN A FUCK OF A LOT OF PAIN HERE and ITS GETTING DAMNED HARD TO PRETEND LIKE I'M GONNA BE OKAY SO GIVE ME THE GODDAMNED MORPHINE, PLEASE." I say please. I was taught to use manners. I felt the desire, but i did, however, refrain. My mother would be proud. I took the excuses for work and headed back home, the breeze on my skin like a blow torch of flame, but one i endured with the high head of Joan of Arc...only...i didn't die...and i wasn't tied up. Not that I'dve minded...er....(excuse the thoughts of sunburned girl, won't you?...she speaks only nonsense. pay no attention to the lobster behind the curtain. just because he brings you flowers....er....argh.) I spent the day inside, save for a half hour spent on the porch watching pea grean clouds roll around in the sky before a rather disappointing thunderstorm (compared to the night before). When avacado clouds are mulling about, one tends to expect wonderous lightning strikage or perhaps, at the very least, a funnel cloud. There were no such spectacles. My puppy and I went back inside. I am glad that my pup is not one of those skittish dogs in that she isn't afraid of the lightning or thunder. She layed beside me and watched, her head occasionally rising to look around for the source of the clammer from the sky before she would lay down again, contentedly. I feel bad that I might be neglecting her a little bit with my preoccupation with my burns...i am in great pain and am to be kept out of the sun (i'm convinced as punishment for enjoying the weekend selfishly) for a few days til this finally blows over. I am a whimp when I am hurting like this because i rarely DO hurt like this: this physical pain and wrenching soreness is not something that i am accustomed to. I am, to quote lovely gordon, a blister in the sun. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- .what came before. - .what happened next. a diamond at the bottom of the drain - 20 october 2017 |
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