Category: deafness

Happy National Hangover Day!

~ Lkvy ~ Leave a comment

January 1st and I’ve already achieved my New Year’s resolution. One of them, anyway:

I didn’t need to summon Bill Murray via phone after all. I watched a YouTube video (powering though the irritating formatting of the auto-generated captions) in which the creator talked about how old sewing machines stop functioning because they don’t like sitting around unused. So, I opened up my machine again and determined which moving parts caused the zig zagging motion. It took about 10 Q-Tips doused in isopropyl alcohol, a few milliliters of sewing machine oil, and manually moving the parts to work the fresh lubrication into the crevices to get the needle zig zagging again.

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Halfway there.

~ Lkvy ~ 1 Comment

I’m officially middle-aged. Let the cloud yelling commence!

But, no, I am more likely to sit on a park bench with my lightly creased middle-aged friends drinking peyote juice, giggling all the way to death’s doorstep.

Let me get a few grievances out of the way:

-My birthday was yesterday. Not enough people congratulated me on my life being half over. If this was you, please hang your head in shame.

-November is easily the worst month of the year. Cold, rainy, and mostly dark. If it was you who invented November, go fuck yourself.

-BSOs. $300 isn’t pocket change, but it can not reasonably be used to purchase a bicycle. BSO = Bicycle Shaped Object. Don’t have bicycle money? Buy a skateboard: they’re safer and more reliable than BSOs.

-$9 for one pound of strawberries at Fairway Market? It’s still a better deal than BSOs, but I guess bananas are the only fruit I’ll eat for the foreseeable future. 79 cents a pound, bitch.

-It takes almost two hours to get to White Rock from the Tsawwassen ferry terminal by bus. 35km! Probably faster to get there by skateboard.

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I am Jack’s seeping wound.

~ Lkvy ~ 5 Comments

I am on day 10 of recovery. The scabs down my legs have partially fallen off, revealing fresh, glossy pink skin. My arm, however, remains an open wound: A soup of plasma, fat, and regenerated skin. But that’s not what’s kept me from making my triumphant return to work. On the evening of my accident, I had that familiar tickle at the back of my throat, signifying an incoming cold.

Continue reading “I am Jack’s seeping wound.” →