Tuesday, February 08, 2011

pretty pink garden

Mornings were always the same for him. Wake up, scratch his balls for a bit, chai and biscuit and out the door and off to work. That day though, was different. His familiar foraging amongst his nether regions yielded an unfamiliar roughness. 2 raised patches of skin that felt like an old leather cricket ball with the leather worn and rough. He gave it a gentle squeeze and was relieved that there was no pain. He tried looking in the mirror but his stomach got in the way and that only added sadness to the weight he was now carrying. he decided to go see a doctor soon and stepped out and off to work. The growth ate away at his brain all day but by the time he was done with work it was too late for a doctor. He bought a small mirror, bandages and some dettol instead.

Standing in his bathroom with one mirror in hand and one in front he looked a little pale and sweaty. He started to move the mirror in his hand, checking various angles to see if he could get a look. Then he had it. 2 yellowish round patches of skin. Rough to touch. Fungus he thought with a shudder. He left the things alone. Decided to visit a doctor the next day and tried sleeping.
He actually did visit the doctor the next day. Got a rub, an ointment and a pat on the back for good behaviour. He even walked home with a spring in his step. Happy at having taken prompt action. Sleep that night was the stuff of legend. The next morning he woke up with a smile and felt full of energy till he reached for his sack. If anything, the patches seemed to have become bigger in every way. From mounds to hillocks. He squeezed and again felt no pain but the damn things were definitely bigger.

He dropped his pants and reached for the ointment, squeezing the tube till his hand was covered in the smelly white paste. Reached down and covered his crotch with it before sitting down. He was sweating and pale and nervous. He called the doctor for an appointment and waited. For a while. Then he decided to inspect the growth but stomach and ointment were both in the way and our man just felt tired and old and depressed.

Sitting on his bed slumped and wondering about the cause for his problems, the man put his head in his hands and started to weep. Too much smoking, he thought like all smokers do when faced with anything from an ingrown toe nail to cancer. The doctor could only see him in the evening and he had time enough to sweat and ponder and brood.

Then the strangest thing happened. He thought he could feel it pulsing under the thick ointment. Pulsing and throbbing like heartbeats. Panic. Cold, debilitating panic in waves as he rushed to the loo to wash away the ointment and give it an another look. Combination of mirror and angle was achieved after some difficulty and his shaking hands and running sweat didn't help matters but there it was. Definitely bigger and definitely beating to the rhythm of a different heart. He could feel his heart beating furiously in his chest but the beat in his ball sack was a much more measured and sleepy pulse. The rough yellow circles now had an outer ring of sickly green and 4 pink dots on each growth. He watched them beat and pulse. Hypnotised by the mirror image he lost track of time and space. When his arm fell asleep and the mirror crashed to the floor it made no difference to him. Still sitting and feeling every pulsating moment. Something was moving around in his ball sack.
Within these growths. He could feel it. Something just waiting to burst out. The pulsing of his sack was distinct and clear and formed a perfect counterpoint to the beating in his chest.

It was then that the pain hit him. In fast moving excruciating waves shooting from his ballsack all the way to his brain. His last conscious thought was that he was having a stroke. After that was just the darkness that he leapt into.

The first thought on regaining consciousness was that he'd died. He couldn't feel a thing and the room seemed brighter somehow. The pain was gone though and that was the important bit. It took him some effort to stand up and when he did and looked at himself in the mirror he saw the growth from his sack. He didn't need the small mirror or even have to hold up his stomach for a better view. There between his legs, growing out of his sack were 2 bright pink petunias fluttering gently between his legs.

Life was never the same for him again.

RIP Tura Satana

Tura Satana died a few days ago. A start as a go-go dancer, Elvis's girlfriend for a time and one kvlt movie. But what a movie. I knew going in that the movie had a rep but when Varla broke that dude's neck in desert I knew I was in for one wild ride. A genuine holy shit moment. Pity there was never anything else to match Varla or Faster, Pussycat. Kill! Kill! but you can't have everything I guess.

Monday, February 07, 2011

I've got my robot headdress on and I'm singing the blue ball blues

Java City for lunch and time pass after ages or maybe a fortnight. There's a woman from the 5 star up the road chain smoking kings and drinking water in her grey business suit. She's forgotten to take off her name tag or maybe not. There's a man who looks like an accountant reading an Erle Stanley Gardner book and his pink drink is almost untouched. The techies on their lunch break are loud and obnoxious but I have my ipod and Blindead is drowning out most noise. You can tell a lot by a person's helmet. I can't. The squeaking laughter of the girls is irritating the accountant and probably distracting him from Mason's latest case. Only a matter of time before he tells them to shut up and attend college. Poor fellow. I sympathise.

I feel like going on a long drive and doing absolutely nothing. A regular feeling. I hope that one day soon India will win the world cup just so the channels can stop playing the '83 win and stop fellating Kapil's devils. I haven't watched the news in a long while. Not since my tv conked off a few months ago. Not missed much I think. Anyway, food needs to happen and then head back to work and while away time till 6. Later.

I changed the music in my car and I pod today. Went to work with coverdale/ page playing and now listening to Look at Yourself. Both albums put me in a very happy although slightly nostalgic mood. Its quite insane how so much music I listened to growing up comes with its own back story. Uriah Heep and Coverdale Page just both made me wish for a music shop like Sound Options again. Where you could walk in, browse, get the dude to play whatever new tape you wanted to check out, put a smoke or two, talk about the revolutionary picture quality of a laser disc and generally hang out. Now its Planet M or Landmark. Faceless shops with no personality where browsing for music is just uncomfortable and tedious and asking the staff for help is utterly pointless. I miss Sound Options, Rhythms, Music Magic and that shop in Curzon Court. Even Ram's and his never ending supply of pirated AR tapes. So what if he couldn't tell the difference between Pantera and Petra. See what I mean about nostalgia?

Anyway, I'm going to see Bevar Sea this weekend. I'm hoping for a good trip and a decent show. The plan is to get sent, stand at the back at watch. I'm hoping Orphaned Land play The Beloved's Cry.

There's a giant tom who's taken to hunting in our garden. I could hear him last night and today morning he was prowling the garden like he owned it. Not scared either. Strict instructions not to let him in though.

I'm slightly addicted to the Word Mole game on my phone.

In other news, I had an insane attack of the acid yesterday. Completely debilitating.

Health problems and old age aside I'm pretty good. Life seems to be mostly okay. At least the things I can control are in control and the variables aren't causing me heartburn.

I'm occasionally disappointed with my own inane observations but then I look around and tell myself its not so bad. Carrying on, I need new shoes and a couple of pairs of trousers. I think some shopping needs to happen soon.

A new Red Harvest and a new Septic Flesh also need to happen soon please. Listening to Revolution DNA and the Greeks are just incredibly classy. I think the 90s was a pretty great time for extreme metal. I should also roll a fatty and listen to this and A Deeper Kind of Slumber back to back one of these days. In related news I can't find my Odd Fellows Rest CD. Okay, I've had enough of my own bullshit. For now.