DELVING BETWEEN THE TOES OF LIFE....I AM TOEJAM


2002-07-19 - 5:09 p.m.

Three things happened as the result of a kamikaze fly that was hell bent on putting me in a mental institution. Number one, I went against my previous 20 or so years of not killing anything intentionally and became responsible for the genocide of an entire country of kamikaze flies in my house. Number two, I learned that I hate CDís and I think whoever invented them was a lazy bastard who is playing an evil joke on us suckers. And number three, I should think twice before licking things.

Rewind to three weeks ago. I havenít slept well in a month, I am hot and I am exhausted. I get ready for bed early, at seven to be precise. I crawl into bed, sigh deeply, read for a little while and then roll over onto my side, tucking my favorite pillow between my arms and close my eyes letting the soft folds of sleep slowly drape around me. Just as I enter that first delicious phase of sleep a fly lands on my cheek and I instantly jerk to full awareness. I half heartedly bat him away and once again settle into sleep. This time he lands on my nose. This time I bat with a little more force and then I again, settle into that first phase of sleep. Now the fly takes to making dive landings onto various parts of my exposed body. Heíll dive and land for a brief millisecond, over and over....Now I am pissed. I jump from bed and chase this little black speck around the room, finally I shoosh him out the door. I get back into bed and close my eyes, my body is tense now, I am just waiting for him to come back and sure enough, he starts his dive landings again, this time adding sound effects...I can hear him coming now, a loud and rapid BZZZZZZZZZZZ, and then he lands just long enough to tickle my skin and make me aware of his presence. This goes on for most of the night. The next day on my way home from work I bought fly spray, marched into my house, informed all the flies that had taken up residence within my walls that they had exactly fifteen minutes in which to vacate the premises before I killed them. Some left, most went down with the ship. I slept well for the first time in a month.

Well, I slept well except for being plagued by nightmares because of my new found murderous side.

Fast forward now to a few days ago. I walk in my house and find that an entire new country of kamikaze flies have migrated and set up camp in my kitchen. I am mortified, and again, I am exhausted. This time I immediately told them they had fifteen minutes to vacate the premises, I didnít mess around chasing them fly by fly, I wanted them gone and I wanted them gone NOW. I used remaining can of fly spray this time, 3/4 a can. I really let them have it. My cats and I waited outside until the gas chamber had cleared and the fly carcasses lay unmoving throughout the kitchen. I cleaned it up...started to cry and went to bed. No flies, just sleep. Lovely, lovely sleep.

Yesterday I was on my stair climber listening to my French lessons on CD. The CD kept skipping and I was getting pissed. I would be happily going along with the Je suisís the je voudraisís, the mercieís and the Cíest iciís when the CD would skip and Cíest ici would come out Cíest-est-est-est-est-est-estici-cicicicicicicicicicicicicicici...Finally I got mad enough and just slammed the power button on the CD player and went to bed. No flies, no CDís, just sleep. Lovely, lovely sleep.

This morning on the way to work I was listening to a CD I had grabbed from the top of my stereo on the way out the door. I have 1/2 hour drive to work and I relish every minute of it. I love getting in my car at 5 am with a cup of coffee, no traffic, perfect quiet...I watch the morning unfold as I drive and I like to have music to kind of accentuate the beauty and peace of my morning drive. So I was happily cruising down dark country roads this morning when the CD started skipping. At first I just skipped the song, but when the next song started skipping too I screamed, ďGod damn mother fucking stupid ass fucking CDís, I swear (as if I had to reiterate that I was swearing),Ē totally breaking the perfect peace my morning drive usually emulates. I grabbed the CD from the player thinking to myself how much I hated CDís, how stupid they were, how stupid WE were for choosing them over tapes. Thinking how the ONLY thing CDís were good for was being able to skip around to songs quickly. Tapes were much more durable, and less expensive. Tapes were SOOOO much easier. CDís are fragile fucking expensive good for nothing pieces of crap. I was screaming at the inventor of the CD, wondering why in the hell he didnít take it a step further and actually make the CDís a little less vulnerable. Tapes had a protective shell, why didnít CDís? I hate them, I just hadnít realized HOW much I hated them until that moment. So Iím thinking all this, thinking how much it sucked that this CD was scratched and skipping. SO I did what I usually do when my CD in my car is skipping. I lick it. Because sometimes itís just that something is on the CD that can be washed off and since my tongue is the only thing with which I can clean the CD in my car, you will often find me licking CDís while driving down the road and then drying them off with my shirt and reinserting them in the stereo. So I open my mouth and start licking the CD. I can taste a strange taste and I wrinkle my nose at it, but I keep licking, I keep licking even after I realize there is a strange substance on the CD, a weird, sticky like substance....and then....then I realize that I have just licked a CD that was covered in fly spray and that at any moment I might die.

Iím still alive, but Iím still on edge about it, I keep waiting for my brain to convulse and for my tongue to loll out of my mouth. While I am waiting though, I am washing every single CD I have...the proper way.

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