Monthly Archives: August 2011

Mandatory Enjoyment

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With tousled hair and smudged glasses, my friend Avocado Roll [AR] drives me to Pearson International Airport. Despite the ungodly hour, she entertains me by recounting her latest anxiety dream. It begins conventionally enough; while at work, AR suddenly realizes that she has forgotten to wear pants. [Aside to British readers:  please replace the word pants with trousers and stop laughing your ‘fannies’ off]. Heading to the mall to cover her shame, AR finds that she has no money. ‘Ah,’ I sagely interject, ‘you resent a job that is at once beneath your intellectual capacity and yet necessary to fund basic needs.’ ‘No wait,’ she says, ‘here is where it gets interesting.’ At this point, Barbara Bush appears, agreeing to take AR shopping  while sternly noting that she will provide a mere $20 for the new clothes. We laugh together in a familiar way that I will soon miss. ‘Do you long for maternal care?’ I inquire. ‘I think not,’ she chortles, Continue reading →

Trauma and the Body

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I am up early on a Sunday morning, enjoying the cool breeze that grazes my skin as I water the balcony plants. The air is scented with smoke, likely from a British Columbia forest fire. I go inside to mince fresh coconut and corriander, preparing a Kenyan chutney for dinner. While chopping the green chilis, I think about the book I read the day before, musing aloud: ‘I must have an extra large reptilian brain.’ According to neuroscientist Paul D. MacLean, the human brain is composed of three evolutionary layers: the earliest reptilian core is devoted to sensation as well as survival; the limbic or paleomammalian brain that developed next is concerned with ‘higher’ functions, allowing for emotion, memory, and learning; and the most advanced layer, the neocortex, is what distinguishes human beings and other select primates from ‘lower’ entities, enabling self-awareness and cognition. Although I like the psychedelic diagram of what is called the ‘Triune Brain’ pasted below—it is suitably 1960s, the era when MacLean first proposed his theories—I imagine that my sensory-overload mind looks more like the large-yolked scotch egg on the right, complete with its deep fried sausage casing. After all, I am a Scotch McEgghead.

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Disaster Back

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‘Wow this is amazing! I’ve never seen anything like it before!’ exclaims the fit man in khaki shorts as he holds my left foot in his hand. Should I feel pride or shame? I briefly consider changing my name to Madame Piedmonstrueux and charging a fee. The skilled athletic therapist is responding to my malformed appendages in a familiar way. When an orthopaedic surgeon first diagnosed my condition in 1999, he beamed ‘These CT scans are definitely going in my special teaching files! I have not encountered such a case in over 25 years of practice’ ‘Oh. But can anything be done to correct my problem?’ I asked. He laughed hollowly, back turned while walking out the door. And no, his name wasn’t Dr. House. The podiatrist was more helpful, fitting me with orthotics that (among other things) tipped me forward to relieve some pressure. All the same, he ‘played with’ my feet, bending and twisting them for over 20 minutes, a glint in his eye and small smile on his face. It was kind of creepy, but that’s what I get for being such a freak of nature.

What exactly is wrong with me? Here is the official medical description of my left foot based on the CT scans: ‘Seen best on the reconstructed views is bony ankylosis between the left sustentaculum tali and the undersurface of the talus medially. Just lateral to the area of the fused sustentaculum tali is an additional bony bar extending across the subtalar joint between the undersurface of the talus and calcaneus. … Certainly there are degenerative changes at the site of articulation at this time.’

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Entertaining Extremes

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I am writing this post at a Travelodge near the Calgary airport. ‘What on earth is she doing there?’ you may be wondering. ”Is it filthy?’ Well, yes and no. Last Sunday, my  partner returned from his company’s golf tournament and jubilantly announced: ‘Honey, have I got a great romantic getaway weekend for you!’ Okay, so anyone who actually knows me or my partner has realized that this is bullshit. The only time the word ‘romance’ is used at my house is in a despisingly sneering manner, while saying no to movies starring Jennifer Aniston and yes to films made by drug-addled Germans.  Continue reading →

Fantasy Revs Class

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This morning I awoke from anxious dreams to discover that in my bed I had been changed into a monstrous verminous spin instructor. Feeling constriction in my shaved buttocks and thighs, I glanced down to find them encased in tight spandex shorts. ‘God my package looks small,’ I murmured to myself. ‘And did my quads expand overnight?’ As Ogre raised her right hook, I sensed alarm: Wasn’t I supposed to be somewhere? Three digital clocks on the nightstand displayed different times, each suggesting that I would be late to teach my first spin (aka revs) class. Oh fucknuts! Luckily I was already—and somehow magically—wearing an attractive cycling outfit, complete with matching shoes, purchased during my last trip to bike-friendly Poland.

[I guess you know where I stand on the ongoing and ever-heated ‘proper penis position in underpants’ debate.]

After grabbing a  Continue reading →