Death Of A Thousand Cuts
Cut myself today. Dumb. I may not have had a thousand cuts, but over a lifetime it's starting to add up. I cut that spot on your hand that has no name (at least in English) about an inch behind the base of my left thumb. Deep. Five stitches and it didn't hurt a bit. Till now. It is going to be one of those throbbers, I can tell already. I'll just call this one #756. That leaves me only about 9 or ten cuts per year until I croak. I'll try not to make a habit out of this.
2 Comments:-
Anonymous said...
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Professor Batty said...
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a) I once broke my skull. I have not made a habit of it.
b) Somehow this entry reminded me of my stepfather when he says that when he dies, he wants his tombstone to say 'Drowned in his own saliva'.
I'm thinking of granting him that wish.
...somewhat like drowning in one's own tears but not as poetic...
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