| Sea Monster |
[19 Sep 2008|08:35pm] |
A sea monster nearly attacks a North Korean swimmer
|
|
| me at large! |
[01 Feb 2006|09:11am] |
to any of my livejournal friends who still care, I offer this note as proof that I am alive:
this morning in the shower while working the Irish Spring into a lather with my hands, a bullet of soap entered my left tear duct. I know now what it would feel like to have a cigarette put out in my eye. holy fuck that hurts. this morning must have broken a ten to fifteen year streak of soap-free eyes because I cannot for the life of me remember being in that much pain from such a seemingly common occurance. how could something that is designed to be put on my FACE hurt so much when it strays millimeters over the boundry of my eyelid?
until further notice, soap is being added to the list of things that will no longer touch my face. highlights of that list include: crap, children's fingers and french dressing.
-----
jae.
|
|
|
[24 Mar 2005|05:09pm] |
tuesday i got all cut and probed. my chest now feels exactly like it
should. all cut up and probed. i have a jagged wound, but i don't have
cancer. at least this is what the doctor told my loved ones. he learned
this from the texture and presentation of the tissue he biopsy'd.
now, i either have
a) infection,
a.1) fungal
a.2) viral
a.3) bacterial
b) sarcoidosis
b.1) dunno.
so, cancer is off the table and the doctor has not called me back yet with
pathology report. waiting waiting waiting.
cheers,
-jon. a. evans.
"THERE IS NO FLAG LARGE ENOUGH TO COVER THE SHAME OF KILLING INNOCENT
PEOPLE" -HOWARD ZINN, 1993
|
|
| knifed.
|
[21 Mar 2005|11:22pm] |
tomorrow at 1:30 i get to have the surgery. they'll make a small cut just
below my neck in the nice U shaped dip between my clavicles. put your
finger there now please...
a scope about the length and width of a pencil will then travel down under
my sterum and investigate this bilateral hilar edenopathy. if something
looks amiss, they cut a piece and culture it into something. hopefully
something benign. i have formed this idea in my head called the "wish
malady". it is the problem that has caused all the other problems my life
has seen. depression, anxiety, malaise, poor-decision making, body odor,
low sex drive, chain smoking, itches behind the knees, myopia, gut growth,
inability to pay bills on time and my desire to get drunk and sleep in the
backyard. and tomorrow, they will find the "wish malady" and pluck it out
like a sliver of carbon sticking straight out of an otherwise healthy,
white, smooth, fluid draining lymphnode.
my other hope, save for the "wish malady" and the non-cancer, is that when
i wake up from anesthesia i say something amazingly profound.
lend me a moment of your concentration at 1:30 pm central time. make
something wonderful happen for me.
see you soon,
-jon. a. evans.
|
|
| Sk-ans.
|
[15 Mar 2005|10:38am] |
my new doctor, Dr. Khan (KHANNNN), called yesterday with the results of my
CT scan. seems my hilar whatevers are still swollen and no one seems to
know with certainty why. i am making an appointment with a pulmonary
specialist today for later this week. it is looking like i have either a)
an infection of the chronic kind or b) sarcoidosis, which is an annoying
thing that makes tissues swell for seemingly no reason.
khan tells me that i'll probably have to choose between a) waiting 3
months then having another ct scan to check the lymphs or, b) have a
biopsy of the tissue to confirm something or other. but all these doctors
have assured me i am not dying of any kind of cancer.
at this point i am hoping that they discover that this malady is the root
of all my aches, woes, wants and apprehensions. and when treated i emerge
from a sickness cocoon that i never knew was encasing me.
eff all,
-jon. a. evans.
"THERE IS NO FLAG LARGE ENOUGH TO COVER THE SHAME OF KILLING INNOCENT
PEOPLE" -HOWARD ZINN, 1993
|
|
| CT Sssscans.
|
[12 Mar 2005|10:59pm] |
i had an appointment thursday to get a CT scan at lutheran general
hospital. holly and i arrived early to sit next to the kid holding an
apple juice bottle filled with his own pee for 10 minutes before getting
directed to waiting room 2 (of 3 total).
so, after a spell in waiting room 2, then room 3, i was escorted into the
CT Scanning room. a nice technician instructed me to remove my shirt. i
did so. IV went in. the scanner read my chest. the dye went thru the IV.
there was a distinct rush of warm thru my whole upper body and then the
very clear feeling that i had just pissed my pants. the tech told me that
i would feel this. "it feels like you peed your pants" he told me. i did
not believe it until BAM, piss feeling. i had not, of course, urinated on
myself even a drop, but my crotch was filled with a warm. a warm. a
dry liquid warm. like i had just been cooked from the inside.
after a few moments it all went away. then i asked if i could see the
results. tech agreed and let me scan forward and back thru the pictures of
my insides. he pointed out a few landmarks then left me on my own to
diagnose any maladies my lay-eyes might spot. have you ever seen your own
heart? in high contrast black and white? i have now. it didn't teach me
anything.
so, i can say, albeit with no confidence at all, that my CT scans without
the dye looked fine. no clouding or black spots, my hilar adenopathy
looks, well, not there at all. now, the CT scan with dye, or contrast as
they call it, i had no clue what i was even looking at. everything could
have been a tumor. my heart was a white sack. and the bronchia just black
voids seperating very white smooth tissues.
the official results will be in on monday. for now, i am a bit more
relaxed at this point.
i am looking for a home for the following sentence, composed in the
bathtub, 2pm 12 march, 2005:
i broke your smooth silence into fragments with fake french quips.
-jon. a. evans.
|
|
| This Day, Today. Forgive the Spelling
|
[09 Mar 2005|09:18pm] |
one monday of this week i went to the doctor for consulation regarding the
tightness in my chest and a slight fever. the resident and the doctor
tusseled a bit over what might be wrong with me. it was finally decided
that i had suffered a "Bronchial Spams" and was possibily carrying a minor
infection of the lungs. after 2 albuterol treatments, which all compounded
my general anxiety, the doctor asked if i was feeling better. it was true,
most of the tightness has went away but there was still a section of pain.
a part of my insides that felt stiff and hypersenitive. i demanded a chest
x-ray to rule out the walking pnuemonia. turns out i opened some can of
worms. they did not want to give me one, but i insisted and they said
"lets do it to make him more comfortable".
today at about 8:30 in the am i get a call from the doctor at the clinic i
attended. she tells me in a short breathless conversation that the x-rays
should some swelling in the lymphs around the bronchial tubes that connect
to the lungs. to my lungs. my lymphs. it is hard to maintain control of
one's head when a doctor reports "problems" on an x-ray of your chest.
moving on... they said i need to get a CT scan. after making an
appointment for tomorrow, i felt i should tell my mom and get her opinion.
i think when i said to her, "there was something strange on my x-ray" she
had decided i would be dead in like 20 minutes.
actually, after i heard that, i was pretty sure i would be dead in 20
minutes. i scheduled an appointment ASAP with a different doctor. one i
felt i could get a better explantion of these adnormalities on my x-rays.
it seems the short-conversation doctor had read the report pretty well.
what she failed to tell me was that i had a very clean x-ray of the actual
lung. so, that rules out the lung cancer. it does not, of course, rule out
a whole host of other amazing things. the worst of which is lymphoma. the
best of which is: it just goes away.
so, i am learing to say the words "bilateral hilar adenopathy". this is
the "thing" i currently have in my chest.
now, the reality of this "bilateral hilar adenopathy" is that a large
majority of the cases are of unknown origin and leave just as mysteriously
as they arrive. most are discovered by accident when a patient insists on
a chest x-ray at an overworked clinic.
anyhow, tomorrow at 2pm i'll have some emultion shot into my veins and a
then a piece of machinery will perform Computed Tomography on my barrel of
a torso and then the votes will be tallied and i'll have something, or
i'll have nothing.
but let me tell you this, today and tonight have been down right fucked.
moments of casting the whole thing off as a routine infection that would
have spread and died without me even know, to the becoming convinced that
i have minutes to live.
currently, i am over-reacting a bit i guess. but getting a phone call that
reports an x-ray has something "suspicious" on it can ruin days and days.
wish me luck,
jon.a.evans.
|
|
| heaven and hell.
|
[05 Nov 2004|02:21pm] |
in my head, where i spend some time, there is no real heaven or hell.
these places are fictional devices that serve as a great bridge between
the complicated notions of behaviour and consequence, ethics and morality.
how do you explain these topics to a child in the 16th century? heaven and
hell.
but here is my favorite part, this rule that heaven and hell are fictional
does not apply to politicians.
remember the glee i expressed when reagan died? that is partly because i
can now imagine him in hell.
this is how i am dealing with the election of GWB again.
"Because there's one thing I know, I'd like to live long enough to savour.
That when they finally put you in the ground I'll stand on your grave and
tramp the dirt down"
-elvis costello
it makes me happy to know that one day i'll be watching the kentucky
derby, some sturdy horse running for the triple crown and a message will
come across the screen telling me the GWB is dead. maybe i'll make it that
far. and maybe i'll still care.
|
|
| VOTER REWARD.
|
[14 Oct 2004|09:44am] |
please look:
www.voter-reward.com
that links to a website we created to publicize events happening on
election night nationwide.
lookie.
|
|
| What's Next?
|
[13 Jul 2004|10:07am] |
i hope tomorrow the government sees fit to ban gay marriage. i mean, if
they let gays get married what will be next, women? then black people? and
before you know it people will marry their pets! this is an outrage!
signed,
strom thruman
|
|
| Eff. |
[05 Jun 2004|11:49pm] |
Smarty Jones ran ahead for most of the race. after the final turn
birdstone pulled in front. my dream of seeing the triple crown was
crushed. i shouted a series of swears at the teevee and checked the cable
guide for something to distract me from the sense of missed history. just
then i was informed by sam donaldson that ronald reagan had died. history
caught up with me in the nicest way. i am usually not one to celebrate
another person's death, but this was ronald reagan. "go to sleep you evil
fucker" i said and did not have one pang of regret. still don't. i am more
upset about the horse.
in the midst of all this i was convinced i was hung over from last nights
drinking, but it turns out i am probably getting sick. i know hungover and
i know sick. this is the latter. speaking of last night's drunk...
i ended up at the four a.m. known as Underbar on western and belmont. upon
my first trip to get drinks i bump in to 2 girls sitting bellied up to the
bar. immediately tony and i start lying to them. telling these girls that
tony has a phD in climatology, specializing in 19th century weather
patterns. i whisper remarks in one of the girl's ear that tony is
really not a phD in climatology but actually an undercover cop. then i
tell her that i have slept with tom skilling.
somewhere around this moment, tony's weather loving girl says this:
"hillary rodham clinton is a jew bitch". mostly, i think, that comment is
incorrect on both levels it attempts to address. tony lies and says he is
jewish and offended and we both walk away, pretty much loving it.
moments later i go to get another beer and this other girl bumps into me.
i look at her and she says "you recognize me because of the porn site i do
where i just eat steak and shake naked". which i do not. i tell her tho
that i'll link her site for my site. then i describe the site as "people
forcing me to eat wedding cake". so i end up talking to this girl and her
friend when this other fella walks up.
turns out these girls have a friend who looks EXACTLY like ryan seacrest. brownish hair frosted brown and spiked up. the same dumb vacant look in his eye. white teeth and t-shirt that is a bit too small and a bit too vintage printed to actually be a vintage print, something about hawaii and surfing.
so, i start calling him ryan seacrest. he gets mad and wants to fight me. i
cool him out a little and basically he makes the terrible case of "this
would never happen to me in LA or New York, there no one cares if you look
like someone" ah, the old LA/NY argument for style and substance. fuck
this, now i want to crush ryan seacrest, but, the girls cool this
situation out again, mostly by touching my back. now, it is 4am, and it is time
to go. i leave and note that ryan seacrest is still contemplating a little
tussle. i stick around for a minute and the girls come out and hug me and
talk all dumb sexy for just enough time for their friend to sneak away down the street with a pace somewhere near olympic walking.
silly. it was all so silly. i never would have hit the guy. how could i
have lived with myself if i hit a guy because he was mad that he looked
like ryan seacrest? even drunk this made much sense to me. but still,
sometimes being drunk is an obvious form of acting.
ah, pretty girls, insecure LA boys and bunch of dumb lies. i am pretty
sure it was somewhere in these exchanges that i got sick. a psychic form
of sick that is just now manifesting itself physically. malaise and deep
sleep naps while sweating out toxins into throw pillows.
wish me luck,
-jae.
|
|
| Bush forgot he likes to execute people.
|
[01 Apr 2004|01:19pm] |
"We stand for a culture of life in which every person counts and every
person matters. We will not stand for the treatment of any life as a
commodity to be experimented upon, exploited or cloned," the president
told Republican donors to his campaign at a fund-raiser in Washington
Tuesday night.*
* Bush later clarified these comments. He went on to say these liberities
only count toward white-skinned people currently living inside the U.S.
that have fiduciary responsibilities to an American held corporation, only
S-Class and above, no Limited Liability Corps or non-profits. Furthermore,
should anyone not fitting the above description attempt to participate in
Mr. Bush's "Culture of Life" that individual or group shall be exploited
posthaste for all the administration might deem suitable for
commodification; be it said group's crude oil, Bush's own popular support
or the small warming smile of a special interest lobbyist.
|
|
| reposted, the time i hit on marina oswald in a bar in dallas texas, April 1977. |
[25 Mar 2004|03:50pm] |
"The memory is like a cat scratching my heart", said ms. oswald. "i used
to be mrs. oswald, but the government killed my husband" she spat at me,
half vodka, half mucus. then, in a wink, her face turned from the cold,
placid practiced mask, to a face that merely floated in front of a brain
that was fondly remembering. telling all it knows in subtle lifts of the
eyebrow and the corners of the lips.
for the next few hours marina oswald ran her finger tips over her lovely
face and grasped her own shoulders, sharing with me the stories of her and
her felled husband; the two lovers, rabbit hunting in the obvious gray of
a moscow winter afternoon.
|
|
| a billion billion bits. |
[08 Jan 2004|12:04am] |
|
in the heat of battle against myself, i seem to have sussed out some truth. it is not so much my body that is betraying me, but i that is betraying it.
see, in the end my body is going to stay, stalwart and unmovable. it will take on the earth and rain. it will decay and stay and be salted and mineralized. it will leave in rain and visit in oceans. it will meet sky then fall. my body will join with rivers and pass through fish and fowl, mammals and insect. through the veins of leaves and the ateries of old men. all of this at the same time. in a billion billion atomic parts spreading out wide. wider then i can really imagine is possible. all places at all times.
a billion billion little bits of jon.
this is not to say that i will join these parts. they are the house i leave, the apartment that gets rented after my lease expires. the new tenets scrubbing my cigarette stink off the walls. i don't mind. how could i?
but in the meantime, let me be a bit more apologetic to this body. a bit more forgiving of it neural quirks. not so quick to find ways to make me escape it but be very conscious of the fact that one day i'll betray it completely. i'll leave it here all alone, naked and in the elements. this body, with all its faults, the quick panics, the scars and scabs, the malaise and awful memories, the least i can say is this: it will never walk out on me, but i am sure to walk out on it.
-j.a.e.
|
|
| every holiday should be halloween. |
[16 Dec 2003|11:34pm] |
i want more skeletons worked into the holiday decorations. i want to see skulls and femurs and pevlic bones wrapped in tinsel and hung up on trees. the image of a red and black stocking hanging from a fireplace mantle with a tibia poking out seductively makes think, "i could enjoy these holidays". the best part is when the child digs deep for a treasure it gets nothing but a foot.
sweaters should be replaced with those long-sleeve t-shirts silkscreened with the ribs and clavicles of a human male. Chanukah's candle holder, of course, replaced with a set of finger bones. light the tip of one on the 25th of Kislev and curse Antiochus!
i have been ill for 4 days. cough, tired, feverish. the fuji flu might have gotten me. that worst part is that i even tried to get vaccinated against it a week and one half ago. all the places i called were barren. it is in my nature to distrust the CDC.
we need more chicken eggs, we need more influenza, we need more syringes, put them in a pot and mix, bake for 20 minutes and consume with choc-o-milk.
"when i say softly, slowly.....(drumsticks on rack toms)"
pandemically,
jon.
|
|
| 22 Nov 1963 |
[22 Nov 2003|03:36pm] |
"Oh No! They shot Jack"
- Jackie O.
40 years later there is one indisputable fact regarding the Kennedy Assassination:
i still wish to have a dirty three way with Marina Oswald and Jackie Kennedy.
it is my feeling that this is the only way to bring peace to these two widows, whose lives were so destroyed by the american machine.
call me a patriot, but i would also like to jack-off-jack-ruby.
-jon.
"Oh, these are just curtain rods"
- Lee H. Oswald
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
|
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
deadathome's journal