Lessons from Dr. House

Just because you call something a dog doesn't mean it is, that's called a faulty syllogism.

A sense of impending doom

I just can't shake the feeling Girlfriend is going to leave me. We were talking on the phone. I told her I was willing to make the sacrifice; move with her to the great unknown when she finished her thesis and got a publishing job (I just can't live in the scene of the crime, there's nothing for me regardless). She did not take this well; in fact, anything other than "that's great!" would have signaled Big Trouble in Little China (why does saying that make me feel like Balky from Perfect Strangers??). She huffed and puffed and was quite confusing.

In our next conversation she said she wanted a slower transition. Same city; different doors. Nearly a year ago, the roles were reversed. She took my remark as a betrayal. It was months before she forgave me. I have not pointed out this hypocrisy. I should and will. Still, I understand why she would want the space, but it's clear to me she didn't--and doesn't?--understand why I wanted the space. It's the emotional burden. It's one thing to live with a loved one, another entirely when that loved one reminds you, through no fault of their own, of the rape and torture you suffered--together--at the hands of a couple of cruel, ignorant bastards.

Our relationship has become a game of cat and mouse, can we put an end to this before it descends into Tom and Jerry parody?

Batman R.I.P.

Since the big bang I've rediscovered superhero comics; a joy that has been a surrogate life support system, a fantasy escape from the physical pain of my legs/hips, and the spiritual agony of seperation from my practice (the martial arts) One of the stories I've been following is the much ballyhooed Batman R.I.P. It's been billed as the Batman story to end all Batman stories, complete with the most shocking revelation in the 70 years of the character. The basic premise is someone may have spent a good ten years preparing to destroy Batman, a foe that Batman doesn't know, a being who has studied Bruce Wayne with fanboy thuroughness; a foe Batman can't prepare for in any conventional way; and the antagonist is a foe who cannot be prepared for. This villian, goes by the moniker Dr. Simon Hurt, but claims to be Thomas Wayne, Bruce's father.

I loved this story, but it is best appreciated in a larger context; it is the fourth story arc from writer Grant Morrison, who has devoted significant time and energy to setting all the pieces in their propper place. There's just one problem There is no revelation!! WTF gives??? DC Comics has taken some serious marketing liberties in the last few months with Mr. Batman. First, DC Comics made it seem like the Kevin Smith penned Cacophany, would occur in the wake of R.I.P; it did not. THis killed my interest in the story. I am not a huge fan of Kevin Smith, New Jersey Film god, but I've always enjoyed his work in superhero comics (I think as an artist his best work is in the 4 color world). Then this b.s. happens with R.I.P itself. I love Morrison's work as a whole, so I'm a bit puzzled by this decision especially given the marketting involved, a machine he helped fuel. There is still a chance to fix this, either in the Last Rights follow up or in the pages of Final Crisis (both written by G.M.) .

If not, despite the quality of the story, instead of being the most shocking revelation in the last 70 years, this could be the biggest FU in the history of the medium, bigger even than Spiderman's Clone Wars saga (horrible flashbacks involving Spidercide).

Delay that Order

MRI now officially scheduled for next thursday, Dec. 11.

Countdown

I have an MRI tentatively scheduled for thursday morning. My father pulled a few strings.

The Story so far and abbreviated....

It was The Crow It was James O'Barr. Laughing Clowns from the Blackest ID The Joker's disciples a Dead Man's Hand of gangsta minstrelsy swinging guns like cocks swinging cocks like soft gummi worms It was the Crow It was James O'Barr there was violence rape torture They were the Laughing Clowns I became the sad clown and she became Thomas the Doubter Shock Shock Shock seperation then anxiety then more seperation and anxiety I left with the shame of infection I wanted to hit her wanted to make her stop needing me just enough that I could breath My wounds were psychic She had a name for her pain; it was rape I had no name so it named me I was the object of the object, an appendage of the victim cast off in a bathtub dusted with kitty litter and bath rain He can destroy a thing controls a thing but you can't destroy or control without the name so I wandered into a dojo and I did not leave

I trained for over a year only to be smited by a spiteful body I'm grounded by a birth defect a hip defect and I'm waiting for an MRI and that brings us here, but if I don't start reclaiming the things I CAN name it will be nothing, that's the story so far without nuiance without all the little violent melodramas that come with life

Greetings from Exile

After "taking it easy" for 5 months the source of pain has now been diagnosed as my hips. Seems I have retro-something or other hips--my hips are pointing towards my ass and have been since I was a wee fetus. Why wasn't this detected years and years ago? I don't know. It would certainly saved me time and energy I don't want to waste right now. In all likelihood I will have surgery in a few months and then begin rehab. I have mixed feelings. On one hand, I'm happy t know the source of the pain. On the other, I'm frustrated this wasn't diagnosed months ago and even more time will be wasted not training. When I finally return to the martial arts I will be back to square one. Posting will still, regrettably, be sparse. It seems I am gonna have to re-evaluate a great many things.

Side-note: the good doctor said that pain as a result of sitting was a strong indicator that I had hip problems.

Other side-note: Upon being told told my hips pointed backwards "This explains why I was a shitty soccer player in high school!"