So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from hell
Blue skies from pain
Can you tell a green field
From a cold steel rail
A smile from a veil
Do you think you can tell?
Did they get you to trade
Your heroes for ghosts
Hot ashes for trees
Hot air for a cool breeze
Cold comfort for change
Did you exchange
A walk-on part in the war
For a lead role in a cage?
- Pink Floyd
------------------------------
I have no more words for now. What say you?
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Thursday, November 16, 2006
H-O-S-P-I-T-A-L
The author of this blog has just gotten out of the above, after being diagnosed with a life threatening and potentially lethal combination of drastically horrible and grave illnesses - viral fever, cough and, as if that wasnt enough, a cold too.
The damn doctors gave 6-7 highly unjustified injections, despite much requesting and pleas for help from somebody, anybody! The hospital bed took him back to the Stone Ages, when people no doubt were used to sleeping on granite pillows with sharp pieces of rock poking them from all sides. Royal blood was even taken out at one time, in a low and duplicitous manner by a deceiving nurse.
Having been under strict medication and unwholesome food, his brain cells still require some time to come back to normal. Hence, no blogging-shlogging has been done for some time.
Mourners, pay your respects.
PS: The author is still in shock as to the way his later Root Canal Treatment was conducted. No comments could be extricated on that ordeal. One presumes that he will soon (metaphorically) open his mouth about that too, but until then we may rest with the minor knowledge that it was a horribly excruciating period of extreme torture executed by ruthless, if otherwise pretty, female dentists who think anaesthesia should be used only if you're trying to kill the damn guy too.
The damn doctors gave 6-7 highly unjustified injections, despite much requesting and pleas for help from somebody, anybody! The hospital bed took him back to the Stone Ages, when people no doubt were used to sleeping on granite pillows with sharp pieces of rock poking them from all sides. Royal blood was even taken out at one time, in a low and duplicitous manner by a deceiving nurse.
Having been under strict medication and unwholesome food, his brain cells still require some time to come back to normal. Hence, no blogging-shlogging has been done for some time.
Mourners, pay your respects.
PS: The author is still in shock as to the way his later Root Canal Treatment was conducted. No comments could be extricated on that ordeal. One presumes that he will soon (metaphorically) open his mouth about that too, but until then we may rest with the minor knowledge that it was a horribly excruciating period of extreme torture executed by ruthless, if otherwise pretty, female dentists who think anaesthesia should be used only if you're trying to kill the damn guy too.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)