"as i went out one morning

to breathe the air around Tom Paine's

i spied the fairest damsel

who ever did walk in chains"

b.dylan "as i went out one morning"

This morning, I was stymied for what to do today. Tomorrow is D-Day, Dog Day, when my much elder sister (MES) and I travel downstate to pick up my new nephew, Georgie the ten week old uber-puppy, King-to -be of the Canines , sweetest wisest most loyal & intelligent domesticated beast in human historhuman history.

   I base these canine conclusions upon spending a couple of hours with him at the breeder’s house last Friday.  Also upon my deep knowledge of how to anthropomorphize animals to their advantage.  Sure, my last dog was a bit…skittish, to put it delicately…but I was a different man then.  The dog was named “Joseph”, after my father, “George Joseph”. My new nephew continues the family tradition of sentimentally & somewhat oddly (to some eyes) conflating our father with a dog, though the comparison could not be more appropriate.  He was very loyal and eager to please, too…

………………………………………………………………………

  I decided to get my blood tested , per my APRN’s instruction, to see what havoc these psychoactive drugs (for my bipolar2) are playing with my kidneys and liver & oh I don’t know, thyroid? Yes, I think so, but don’t quote me on “thyroid”. 

  These drugs can mess a fellow up, physically, I hear. I have seen it firsthand with my 450 lb. pal Riz, who before taking a certain antipsychotic he did not need, was a star athlete.  It  f---s up the metabolism, I think. Not to mention the neurotransmitters, and of course the kidney and liver, as I mentioned.

  I took a number at the Lab and waited. Two lovely young women , looking rather miserable, came in and slumped in their chairs. I speculated wildly upon what their tests were for.  I am quite sure I am not correct, or at least, I hope not...

  The blood guy, or phlebotomist (is this the right word?) took me back to a tiny room and I hopped up into what resembles an electric chair, and stretched out my scrawny arm. 

He was one of those guys whose eyes do not focus, maybe crosseyed, but I did not let that deter me from making nice with him.

I was in a spritely mood. I have been for quite awhile. Ever since my bipolar friend slit his own throat, about a month ago.  Horrific events tend to make me human: suddenly I have a beating, bleeding heart again, and am eager to use it to spread lovingkindness to all and sundry.

  A nice gal technician, or maybe another phlebotomist, I couldn’t tell, came in and asked my vampire whether she could turn the music up. On the little radio in the corner of the tiny room.

  “Sure but not too loud, except this song, this is nickelhead.”

  I inquired about nickelhead and was informed that it was a fairly new group, so I didn’t feel embarrassed not having heard of them.  They sing “decent metal”, my guy told me as he drained my arm of a teeny slurp of blood in his sharp little needle. Why does the first thought that comes to me is: "i wonder how it tastes?"

  On and on he went, seemingly eager to tell me of his teenage years, when he could listen all day to AC-DC, though these days only a few songs suffice to catch his vibe.  He told me about swimming in his mom’s pool and cranking the volume high enough so he could hear it underwater. Mom came home once and said, “turn that crap down!” and he said, “but it’s metal, mom!”

  She said, rather famously to our protagonist’s personal lifestory, I think: “I DON’T CARE IF IT’S PLASTIC!”

  We both laughed. Him more than me. But I admitted it was a good line, and that I would use it.

  So there, promised kept, bro.

  I walked out of the lab past the two miserable gals, and hoped that maybe my crosseyed phlebotomist buddy and these young women might have lovingkind encounters in that electric chair room, later. ­­

 .............................................................

(My "bad": it is Nickleback, not Nicklehead)

From  their "Breathe"

 And now I found it, found I adored it.
I didn't want this. Can somebody help me see?
And now I feel that, feel that I've been there.
I didn't need this. Can somebody help me stand?
And now I told him, already warned him.
I didn't want this. Can somebody help me breathe?