I've never felt less in control and more, for lack of a better term, mortal than I do now
• But after a frightening and depressing and unnerving and confusing 72 hour span — where, after experiencing a moderate bit of discomfort in my chest most of the day Thursday, I drove myself to the emergency room after playing basketball that evening and anticipated discovering that I had some sort of muscle strain but learned that my aortic vein was inflamed and in danger of possibly tearing — hearing that triumphant and boastful and bombastic (and remarkably offensive) track upon my release from the hospital Sunday afternoon was cathartic.
• (I’ve had many trips like this recently — one day ventures to different cities and universities to speak or sit on panels — and I concluded that a bookbag would be much more practical and cause much less TSA-related headaches than the larger carrying bag I usually take.)
• I’m a guy who writes about pretty much everything — including how masturbation might have jacked up my back — but the single most dominant thing in my life over the past six months has gone largely unexplored.
• I will take the medicines prescribed to me, including Lisinopril, which is to treat high blood pressure that I’ve never actually had a problem with in my life but now need to keep even lower than it usually is because an extended spike could fuck my shit all the way up now.
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