The Drivel Thread

[Lucifer Sam]

No way! really?!

Don't mind me, I'm just grasping at straws.

 

[Light Housework]

Don't mind me, I'm just grasping at straws.

I’m grasping straws too, hoping the thyme oil will kill off whatever that sadistic technician gouged into my skin with his medical gloved hands. I have no appointments tomorrow, and that’s fitting because I will be up all night treating this sore aggressively.

 

[Lucifer Sam]

"I imagined that I bore my chalice safely through a throng of foes. Her name sprang to my lips at moments in strange prayers and praises which I myself did not understand. My eyes were often full of tears (I could not tell why) and at times a flood from my heart seemed to pour itself out into my bosom. I thought little of the future. I did not know whether I would ever speak to her or not or, if I spoke to her, how I could tell her of my confused adoration. But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires."

 

[Light Housework]

Smothering the bacteria in the sore, pressing down on it so the fumes from the thyme oil reach it.

 

[Light Housework]

It doesn’t seem to be working. The thyme oil. I guess I’m doomed. I’m still trying to make it work, but it seems like I’m screwed.

 

[Light Housework]

I did my best and have to stop now, because the thyme oil is hard on my fingers. I hope what I did was enough, but I doubt it. That sadistic technician wins it seems, as the sore doesn’t look benign. My right lung’s not been bothering me, but I wonder what that technician infected me with.

 

[Joe Dallesandro]

I had my appointment with the respiratory therapist. She did a bunch of testing, but she’s not equipped to test for a mold infection of the lung. I’ll be getting the test results in a few weeks, and my guess is that they’ll say my lungs are fine. I wasn’t coughing this morning, or during the testing, so I imagine the results will just show that I’m not having breathing difficulty. I met this panhandler on my way to my appointment. He came up with the idea of pretending he’s fishing, to collect spare change. His name is Eric. We chatted briefly, though it was hard to make out what he was saying, because he doesn’t have many teeth. He likes the idea of his photo being on my favourite singer's fan site. He said it might bring him more money, and I told him I doubt it, but that I'll see it and be reminded of him.
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I think he played you, though, if he really likes Morrissey, good on him.

 

[Light Housework]

Trying some more, to kill the skin infection, with thyme oil again, using my ring finger this time to give my index finger a break from the harsh thyme oil. I doubt I'll beat this, but I'm trying to.

 

[Light Housework]

I napped and dreamt Morrissey, that I finally felt your touch, on a bed, and I said to you “I’m finally feeling your touch.”, and I was so relieved, but then it went wrong because it wasn’t really you. It became apparent that it was someone else,…someone who didn’t love me, and he slashed at the back of the garment I was wearing, to reveal some white fibres within the black fabric, as a fashion statement. Thinking you were touching me was only a tease.

 

[nicky wire's legs]

you are an absolutely odious individual and have no place in polite society. first you pester your doctors about this imaginary self diagnosed mold infection and then when they finally humour you with getting you tested even though it's a waste of everyones time, time that could be spent on much more worthy patients with much more legitimate complaints, you seek to accuse the technician of diabolical acts and threaten him with a formal complaint. are you that f***ing bored?! do you really think the technician even wanted you in his sight? these people lead REAL lives and dont have time for any of your manufactured shit, you vile old hag.

"staying in tonight"--well of course you f***ing are! well ELSE would you be doing?! are we meant to think you would have been going out on the town for a hot date instead?!?!?!?

 

[Light Housework]

Slept, and it's shrunk after holding thyme oil down into it for hours last night. Maybe I can beat this. My right lung is still not bothering me.

 

[Light Housework]

Here's to hoping to live before I die.

 

[Light Housework]

I can feel it take a minuscule bite into me now and then still, so I think the sore is still infected, but I will write morning pages and then apply more thyme oil. It’s time to fight.

 

[Light Housework]

I changed my mind. Morning pages can wait. This skin infection needs urgent attention. More thyme oil pressure on it. NOW

 

[Was I ever any good]

Have you not ran out of thyme oil yet?
Is it expensive?

 

[Light Housework]

Have you not ran out of thyme oil yet?
Is it expensive?

It’s very strong, and not expensive. I use one drop every 15 minutes, approximately.

 

[Was I ever any good]

Well if you run out, I’ve got these for you in my cupboard

 

[Light Housework]

The thyme oil under pressure, burns, but I just hope it kills the awful bacteria that technician infected me with.

 

[Light Housework]

My fingers are badly cramped from holding the thyme oil down hard on the sore. I have to take a break. There’s a temporary dent in my skin that shows that my finger slipped off its target. Wasted time. The next round of pressure will be better monitored for accuracy.

 

[Light Housework]

This is war. I guess life is war.