***UPDATE***
LA Decompression Street Fair is on Saturday October 15th.
Space Island is having an epic after-party event.
Details are available here.
***END UPDATE***
There aren't always answers.
After my cryptic/emo/drama post of last night, I know that I owe my friends and occasional journal readers some kind of explanation. The problem is, I don't know that I have one. Believe me, I've tried to find one. I've looked. I even enlisted the aid of the Jagermeister in my search for an answer. But to no avail. Let me try to explain what I do know.
Yesterday evening I was breaking down some boxes using a box knife. Simple stuff - cutting big pieces into little pieces - I've done the job many times before. But I had an accident.
I had a couple inches of blade exposed (one of those plastic segmented blade things) so I could cut through a couple pieces at once and save myself some time. As I made the cut, the blade slipped and jammed into my stomach. Fuck. My thumb, which had been holding the cutter where the plastic ends and the blade begins, was pressing against me. I had just stabbed myself - FUCK! The pain was very real and I could feel the tip of the blade inside me. I couldn't even breathe, I was frozen for the longest moment. My mind raced, I even wondered whether I had just cut into my large or small intestine and what the fuck difference would that make I was still seriously fucking injured.
I had to do something. I took a slow, shallow breath, and then exhaled even more slowly as I pulled the blade out the way it came back in. I can't tell you how sickening that felt, or how much I dreaded the idea of looking down. But I did, and what I saw freaked me out. The blade was clean. My shirt was cut, and I was in a lot of pain, but the blade was clean. I checked myself - not a fucking scratch. WTF? This wasn't some glancing blow, this was a stab directly in the middle of my stomach.
Let the freaking of out begin. I wanted to throw up, but instead I quietly finished up the task at hand (being extra fucking careful with the blade, let me tell you). I walked the recycle bin thing to the curb. I came inside and sat down and just froze. An IM popped on screen and it shook me out of the daze enough to try and form words. I was dismissive of my friend (you know who you are - I'm sorry for being cryptic and strange, well more cryptic and even more strange than usual lol), and then I wrote my cryptic and shell-shocked update.
I tried wrapping my head around what happened, to no avail. So I decided to consult the jagermeister, and consult him I did. Again and again, but the jagermeister had no answers either.
Was this all imagined? I wish it was. Maybe the events and the pain in my stomach were the work of an over-active imagination? But my shirt was cut. Maybe I cut the shirt but the cutter didn't come in close enough? I felt my thumb against my stomach, it doesn't get any closer. Maybe I should consult the jagermeister some more? That's a good idea. Why does my stomach hurt like this? I don't know, let's consult the jagermeister.
I'm still freaked, but I think I'm a bit more functional today than I was last night. I should thank the jagermeister for that, even though he provided little in the way of answers. Alcohol numbed my frayed nerves, as well as led me to finish destroying what had only hours before been a favorite shirt.
I didn't get much sleep last night - aside from having trouble sleeping to begin with, every time I tossed or turned the pain in my stomach woke me up. Seriously, I have no clue. By all accounts, I should be dead or I should be seriously injured, listening to some physician tell me about what they either had to or will need to do to my insides in order to effect a repair while some really hot nurse changes the dressing on my bandage.
I'll let you know if I do manage to wrap my head around what happened.
~Trilo~
LA Decompression Street Fair is on Saturday October 15th.
Space Island is having an epic after-party event.
Details are available here.
***END UPDATE***
There aren't always answers.
After my cryptic/emo/drama post of last night, I know that I owe my friends and occasional journal readers some kind of explanation. The problem is, I don't know that I have one. Believe me, I've tried to find one. I've looked. I even enlisted the aid of the Jagermeister in my search for an answer. But to no avail. Let me try to explain what I do know.
Yesterday evening I was breaking down some boxes using a box knife. Simple stuff - cutting big pieces into little pieces - I've done the job many times before. But I had an accident.
I had a couple inches of blade exposed (one of those plastic segmented blade things) so I could cut through a couple pieces at once and save myself some time. As I made the cut, the blade slipped and jammed into my stomach. Fuck. My thumb, which had been holding the cutter where the plastic ends and the blade begins, was pressing against me. I had just stabbed myself - FUCK! The pain was very real and I could feel the tip of the blade inside me. I couldn't even breathe, I was frozen for the longest moment. My mind raced, I even wondered whether I had just cut into my large or small intestine and what the fuck difference would that make I was still seriously fucking injured.
I had to do something. I took a slow, shallow breath, and then exhaled even more slowly as I pulled the blade out the way it came back in. I can't tell you how sickening that felt, or how much I dreaded the idea of looking down. But I did, and what I saw freaked me out. The blade was clean. My shirt was cut, and I was in a lot of pain, but the blade was clean. I checked myself - not a fucking scratch. WTF? This wasn't some glancing blow, this was a stab directly in the middle of my stomach.
Let the freaking of out begin. I wanted to throw up, but instead I quietly finished up the task at hand (being extra fucking careful with the blade, let me tell you). I walked the recycle bin thing to the curb. I came inside and sat down and just froze. An IM popped on screen and it shook me out of the daze enough to try and form words. I was dismissive of my friend (you know who you are - I'm sorry for being cryptic and strange, well more cryptic and even more strange than usual lol), and then I wrote my cryptic and shell-shocked update.
I tried wrapping my head around what happened, to no avail. So I decided to consult the jagermeister, and consult him I did. Again and again, but the jagermeister had no answers either.
Was this all imagined? I wish it was. Maybe the events and the pain in my stomach were the work of an over-active imagination? But my shirt was cut. Maybe I cut the shirt but the cutter didn't come in close enough? I felt my thumb against my stomach, it doesn't get any closer. Maybe I should consult the jagermeister some more? That's a good idea. Why does my stomach hurt like this? I don't know, let's consult the jagermeister.
I'm still freaked, but I think I'm a bit more functional today than I was last night. I should thank the jagermeister for that, even though he provided little in the way of answers. Alcohol numbed my frayed nerves, as well as led me to finish destroying what had only hours before been a favorite shirt.
I didn't get much sleep last night - aside from having trouble sleeping to begin with, every time I tossed or turned the pain in my stomach woke me up. Seriously, I have no clue. By all accounts, I should be dead or I should be seriously injured, listening to some physician tell me about what they either had to or will need to do to my insides in order to effect a repair while some really hot nurse changes the dressing on my bandage.
I'll let you know if I do manage to wrap my head around what happened.
~Trilo~
VIEW 25 of 65 COMMENTS
that's very interesting. and yeah, edge does say that in the back. huh. i'm in shock and awe at your music buffness.
if you were to do that sort of thing to me in person, i'd either bow down to you, or hump your leg, lol.
i'm of the school that i was raised on vinyl and 8 tracks(i still have my mom's collections), didn't know what a CD was until i was, i dunno...14? maybe older. i was raised on a huge range of music. i cut my teeth on everything from hendrix to beatles, hermans hermits, and chambers brothers, and everything in between. i'm mostly and 80's and 90's rock junkie, admittedly. i love how music can change your mood. it's awesome. in high school i sang opera, and did some jazz. i've always sang and enjoyed music. i teach myself all the parts of a song. total geekness.