I have very nearly made the mistake, of once again, attempting to intervene my fate by surgically accepting a prosthesis advocated by pain and promoted by an avaricious medical industry aping the financial ‘captain’s of industry’ which have brought our world to the brink of destruction. This hasty ambition to augment or alter materially my body's natural decay even though standing here writing upright because in the process off averting the what i am increasingly coming to believe is a physical decay brought about my own slack, sedentary, entertainment-addiction habits, contrasted just now by the confusing visual haze i try to reconstruct a full five years after cataract surgery - fracaso on top of fracaso · no es sano .
So now i will reorganize my ambitions once again to fit the ever shifting world i so very much want to understand. Just no my desk is raised, my waist wrapped with a selendang, faja, sash. Though i’ve reconsidered the hip replacement surgery, my internal abdomen is, as the rest of my ‘gifted anatomy’, lopsided. The leg length discrepancy i had convinced myself was the result of a collapsing pelvic girdle from a fall off the back of a flatbed truck shifting coral for a breakwater in the Philippines sometime after 2011 - the year my father died. My working theory has been from reading somewhere that pooling blood at an articulation will create inflammation that leads to arthritis, in my case degenerative osteoarthritis; but this is where it all gets dicey.
My ‘working theory’ is from not having real access to medical consultation - Madam Paradox and her whelps · T’is and Tain’t, or what Bob Dylan touched on with the lines, “Every man’s conscience is vile and depraved, when it is he must keep it satisfied;” A closer look at Ommnism yields correspondence with Taoism, ‘not every failure is unfortunate’; the Dalai Lama’s observation that sometimes it is good fortune to not get what you seek; and confirmed again by the ‘Sage’ Oscar Wilde - “Be careful what you ask for, you might get it.” My battle is to remain honest about my motivation, is my reluctance from fear of yet again surgical intrusion, or is what i am experiencing an existential maturation freeing my mind from indoctrination from a medical industry that has demonstrated time and again its orientation of ‘profit over well being’¿
Nor is profit always the impediment of honest application of medical strategy over a patient’s well being. Take for example my consultation or attempted consultation with the mental health representative in my ‘healthy existence’ construct. My fantasy always has been since the first day ma dragged me into her constellation of denial about her reasoning for abandoning her marriage in favor of the fashionable conceit of ‘Divorce’ a la “Bob and Carol; Ted and Alice” - entertainment of my youth ostensibly raising pertinent questions about the rising tide of marital dissolution during the ‘go go’ 1970s ‘merica, but more likely supporting the ‘ruling class’ message/massage that has grownup around the voracious ‘lack of intelligence’ in H.L. Mencken’s ‘merica. In short, the psychologist in question rather than responding to what i reasoned was a pertinent request for ‘more time’ after a long overdue x-ray revealed the decay of my trochanter and likely basis of a decade of pain - she, simply ignored my request.
And she remains a compassionate caring individual - it is the system of disinterested expertise i am taking exception to, not to mention my own hubris and myopic self-righteousness about personal behaviors. What seems missing from the landscape is a sense of good will and confidence about the essential nature of existence - it is a miracle, and there is fuckallwecandotochangethat · try as we might. So now at 3:00 p.m. i have managed to wash clothes that then dried in the sun, left money for a Dr. who asked for nothing, and who was available to my confusion, procured unsweetened chocolate, repaired the clothesline stick; fashioned 5 paragraphs of gobbledygook, and facilitated the extension of a sash which will likely contain my innards well enough to allow me a more patient informed decision about my pelvic girdle than what i found upon waking, as well as comforting an old, old friend about a spate of furtive reaction-formation she’d walked into when my inter-generational ‘pollyanna’ attempted to vicariously comfort a dying sibling who has mounted quietude as her steed for the next great adventure - death.
at this turn i’d settle for a glimpse of how to aid the 7th generation removed from where i stand .. .
stay tuned . ..
until L8r (help yourself to other creative vagaries below) ·
(˚ ㄥ _˚)
jts Tuesday 14 October 2o25
http://ExtinctionChronicles.blogspot.com
http://JosephTStevens.blogspot.com
http://stoanartst.blogspot.com
prohibited from AI sampling in any forml
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