Flight Papers

feminism and creativity, art, madness, and play

Archive for the ‘life’ Category


Friday, August 13th, 2010

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You guys, I just failed to cook something.

That’s kindof a big deal. Cooking is one of the few things I can do reliably and well. I’ll fuck up crazy experimental food (what happens… if I stuff peanut butter into this bell pepper?!?! Nothing good, it turns out.), but this was pancakes.

Pancakes are not experimental.

What’s more, I failed at pancakes by adding too much baking soda. That’s like failing at partying because you took too much ecstasy (and, incidentally, tastes similar).

Two days ago, I burned Daal. I’m not becoming a fantasy writer (“the Da’al wound their way up the to’wer, donning their ky’aap’es and activating their læn’tyrr”iens”). Daal is lentils. Lentils in a pot. With spices. I burned lentils in a pot with spices. I still don’t know how I did this.

I just tried another pancake, made with new batter. It’s vaguely tolerable. I think I still added too much baking soda, or maybe my baking soda has been absorbing the taste of ass. Maybe it absorbed the smoke from the burnt Daal.

I think I need a time-out. No, wait, what’s the thing in that Canadian game, with the sticks? I need to go into the penalty box. The ingredients will have a power play in my kitchen during which I will not cook them, because apparently I pissed off M’oskyo’wyts, the goddess of cooking stuff.

I’m going to get stoned now, and eat the rest of my vaguely ass-absorbed pancakes.

Bugs in the repiratory system, and hacks to the brain pain.

Monday, January 7th, 2008

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Some time ago (as in, in 2003), I described my approach towards illness:

  1. Denial. Denial is key; many, many illnesses will lose interest and go away if they are denied vehemently enough. Ignore symptoms—“That’s a nasty-sounding cough” “It’s the dust.” “We’re in a clean room.” “It’s the, uh, lack of dust.”. When the symptoms become impossible to ignore, deny the root cause—“I am not sick. Not. Sick. It’s just the dry air, you see.”.
  2. Ignore it, and it will go away. This is when I don my older sibbling hat; others may choose to mimic ostriches or right-wingers. Do not give in, do not repent. Do not suppress the cough, ignore the cough. Chloraseptic spray is a talisman of defeat—swallow the pain of that sore throat. The feverish dizzyness doesn’t prevent you from walking, does it? There is no sinus-pressure-induced migraine.
  3. Blitzkrieg.Sometimes, the above is not enough. (We here omit statistics, as they make me look really dumb are largely irrelevant.) In cases such as this, a constant battery of eichenesea, vitamin C, decongestants, cough suppressants, acetaminophen, ibuprofen, and water will usually do the trick. Unless it doesn’t, in which case step four will likely be required.
  4. Activated charcoal / kidney dialysis. (Optional.)

And, you know, that list hasn’t changed much! Except that I learned sometime between then and now that the dosages listed on medicine bottles (especially paracetamol-free cough solutions, like most Robitussen) are really more guidelines than anything else—the toxic thresholds for most drugs are ridiculously high. So step three also involves drinking a lot of cough syrup and lying horizontally, feeling really, really peaceful.

(I’m not sure if that’s the worst part of being ill, or the best.)

[Paracetamol—a.k.a. acetaminophen, a.k.a. Tylenol—is actually one of those over the counter drugs that you can kill yourself with pretty easily. 1 gram tablets aren’t hard to come by, and the toxic dose is about 150 mg / kg. You can kill most adults with about twenty Tylenol administered over the course of a few hours. There are quite a few Tylenol suicides for this reason, but it’s actually a really bad idea. I’m not clear on the details, but the basic paracetamol overdose plot goes like this: you take a bunch of pills, you get really sick, and then you feel a lot better. Except, you’re not actually better. Your liver is in the process of shutting down, and at this point, there’s not a lot anyone can do. Which sucks, because by now you’re probably in a hospital surrounded by loved ones and not really in much of a suiciding mood.

Which is all to say: if you’re going to get fucked up on Robitussen, make sure it’s the stuff without acetaminophen/paracetamol. Fortunately, all this stuff is conveniently listed on the label. Mine says, “Dextromethorphan HBr 15 mg” Glug.]

A certain level of competence

Tuesday, September 18th, 2007

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Bud Krogh was on Fresh Air yesterday. Lest you do not know of him, he was a “plumber” during the Nixon administration. That is, his department stopped… leaks. His group was responsible for the Daniel Ellsberg burglary, for which he served time in jail. On the show, he talked about his reaction as it became clear that the simple, quiet “covert op” he had signed off on was, in fact, a not-particularly-covert ransacking, leaving a pointless trail of incriminating evidence, to boot.

I think… It seemed like there was a certain level of competence that was not present.

A perfect sentence, which I intend to use daily, should I get the chance.

(Also: NDK was neat.)

I am beginning to believe…

Wednesday, September 5th, 2007

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…amongst other things, that story structure is not so much a tool as it is a blanket. It isn’t so much that we need help in discovering the story. Rather, we need to be drawn out of ourselves, so that we may express the stories we already know.

And at that point, to continue the analogy, we will find it warm, fuzzy, comforting, and possibly filled with poisonous spiders.

I just got back from California and started a new job, so I’m a bit scattered right now. Still, there’s some good stuff happening with Touch—Asa made a particularly insightful suggestion the other day, which I think to be even cooler than I understand at the moment. I’m settling into an update schedule again, so more soon.