15.2.10

Flower of Flesh and Blood

Okay.  The previous post got a good comment from Mirror, but a total of two e-mails and a series of texts that were from people less than pleased with my opinions on things.  I was called pretentious, pompous, an asshole and a name dropper ... and then some got nasty.

Again, these are just opinions worth as much as I got paid to write them.  I have strong opinions about things.  I write about them here.  Some people may or may not agree with said opinions.  Some may misinterpret them.  I do think some things are different (and sometimes better) than other things.  A Chevelle is not a Veyron.  I don't point that out to be an ass, but to make a point. 

Onward ... and I seriously should print the e-mails here names and all ...

Today I took a nasty, nasty spill.  I was running into the house wearing flip flops because I had just stepped outside for a second and didn't want to put on shoes.  I slipped on some moss and fell down hard.  Hard enough that if I had hit my head on the concrete I would've split it open like a watermelon.  Instead, I was lucky not to have broken my arm and leg.  I did slam my back fairly hard, though, and right now I can feel it.

I limped into the house and went to the tub to clean all the mud off me.  I couldn't understand why more mud kept appearing.  Then I remembered: I'm color blind.  Reds and browns look similar.  I was bleeding.

A lot.

My hand had a minor cut.  My left knee had a large chunk of skin missing and was all kinds of interesting colors.  My left foot had eight separate cuts and strips of flesh missing.  My right arm is just south of killing me.

I used quite a few alcohol swabs (courtesy of when my sister stayed over) that turned lovely shades of red and stung like a bastard.  I totally ruined some of my daughter's wash rags which were white when I started and then turned into a blood tie dye pattern thing that would be safe to wash with once through the laundry, but would be kind of disgusting.

Perhaps God read my previous post, too, and didn't like me bringing up Zarchi's film, either.

My tub looked like I had started to butcher a sow and thIfen decided it would be less messy in the backyard.  Lots of blood, but no chunks.  My knee still bleeds off and on, and when I bumped it against the table earlier I realized that the wound is in such a place that it is going to take quite some time to heal.

By the way, I figure there's a select few who will recognize the title to this post, so I'm posting a link to the Amazon film here.  Can't really say I recommend the film, but if you seriously like extreme cinema and you haven't checked it out, you really should.

2 comments:

Nikki said...

Had you called me when all this happened, I would have suggested a hospital. Are you sure you don't need stitches?

-Doug Brunell "America's Favorite Son" said...

Positive. I wonder what creatures ate my flesh, though.