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March 5th, 2007

There's no such thing as too much fun.

I knew that once, and I'm (mostly) acting like that now. Gold stars for me! No backlash so far, that I know of, either. How 'bout that? How 'bout them apples? I think I shall now say "How 'bout them apples" without the accenting of "them". Cuz that's funny.

Life at work feels pretty good these days.

I went to St. Joe's for a mammogram today. My new-ish doc sends people there, so my films from the baseline at the U hospital have to be transferred. I was having some weird "gee, this is a religious hospital" stuff ("are more of them going to be homophobic?"), particularly after the intake questions on the phone included "Do you work outside the home?" --- Do I what? what th' -- uh, yes? I dunno. I guess I'm ready for them to be scary religious, cuz of the institutional connection to something scarily religious. But the mammogram itself was actually quite well executed, as far as I could tell, and all interactions with personnel seemed free of any queerphobic vibe. And I admit I've generally had good experiences at Catholic hospitals, including when Bill was gaybashed & we didn't want to drive him all the way to Hopkins.

Sure didn't hurt, to speak of. (The mammogram.) (I'm sure the gaybashing did.) Maybe that's the up side to having relatively insensitive breasts: less pain. The (quite competent) tech kept seeming surprised I wasn't having discomfort to the point of saying uncle.

The funny thing about the experience, though, was the little internal waiting area in which the ladies ---and there are quite a few, as the place cranks out some mammograms--- wait, once changed into gowns "on top," to be called to get -ogrammed, and then afterwards to make sure the -ogramming (once developed) sufficiently shows all the views that were needed.

Maybe it's because it's this little women-only area, and it's a lounge-about kind of space, with couches and chairs/tables and such, but the atmosphere, combined with all the women sitting around in near-matching flowing tops, made it feel a little like being in some ancient Vestal virgin hang-out, or harem, or something. A little of that waiting for this semi-naked duty in the next room thing like waiting for a john/customer or husband-to-us-all, too, maybe. I dunno. I liked it, all odd, and the ladies in varying degrees of comfort with it, but mostly blasé. And not a bra on anybody below the loose cool cotton in slightly differing powdery prints. But nothing sexy about it.

I'm doing a lousy job describing it, I think. Here's a cop-out: ya had to be there. Too bad for you mens! You can't go there & find out.

At the (now torn down) Dennison Hall at K-State there was a bed in the ladies' room. In a hollow just inside the door---a full-sized mattress. When I was a child I wondered what the hell that was about. It was still there years later, too, and I laid down on it to try to claim the unravelling of the mystery, now that I knew about cramps and such. At the Senator Theater in Baltimore there's a big round lounge room inside the ladies' room door, before you get to the room with toilet stalls. Couches. Places to lounge about with other women, away from men, and (presumably, until you discover lesbians) away from sexuality. (Of course once the lesbians come into play the whole atmosphere of such a place changes.)

Thinking about listening to records soon.  [emoticon]

lingual doodling

There things happen much
as they might, and do,
in driveway thoughts. Only
not at all that way, of
course, and too. But
it might as well be. I

kid you not. When will
there be---or will there?---
the clamp-down or creep-
ing in of ache, chagrin,
or daemon Fright? Still,
again, tonight: not yet.


Postcard of the Day

(a feature involving a postcard on a day)

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For another postcard thing, see
my old postcard poems tumblr or
its handy archive.

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Many posts are friends-only; livejournal "friend" me and tell me who you are if you wanna read.


"What was once thought cannot be unthought."

-- Möbius, The Physicists


"The moment of change is the only poem."

-- Adrienne R.


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