I recently published a post here, called “My life as a tiger”. Since then I have received few e-mails from different people and a phone call from my friend, surprisingly all of them referring to skull trepanation. As it started to look rather like a heated debate, I decided to explain myself a little bit more on this topic. So here I scrambled together whatever I feel like or want to say about it. It’s relevant to me anyway, so why not put it here?
So, I want to make a hole in my skull. I had this dream for a long time, maybe for 5 years or so. It started probably from my early interest in anthropology. There were many references across different cultures to skull trepanation: mainly in Mesoamerica, but also in Pre-Christian Europe, India, Egypt. It is the oldest surgical procedure known to man, as some of the trepanned skulls dated back to 2500 BC. Which is weird, indeed. Why would people just about everywhere, where civilizations flourished, would want to make a hole in their heads?
Continue reading ‘A hole in the head: the most wonderful entertainment in the whole Wide Wonderful World’
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Last night in my dream I searched for various ways to kill myself. I was in a bathroom, so I toyed with using a frayed power cord in the outlet and contemplated dropping an appliance into the bathtub. Though I searched slowly and thoughtfully–and free of anxiety–I couldn’t find any method quick and painless enough.
The strange thing about the situation is that there was a reason I needed to do this. I have little recollection of this reason other than that it was for a good purpose that helped out others (perhaps my family). In any case, I was not trying to end my life out of frustration, anger, boredom, or depression; instead I felt this was something I needed to do–perhaps it was in my destiny. As I contemplated the prospect of nonexistence, I was pleasantly surprised to discover no fear of death although part of me felt like I didn’t yet fully understand the realization of impending death.
Jacob Haqq-Misra
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I know, it’s been a month since it’s over… It’s just I couldn’t put myself together and finish this post.
This is how our rubbish bin looked like after Christmas.
I know, people really should donate their gifts to charity, rather than to a rubbish bin. But nobody bothers. 9 out of 10 Christmas gifts we get are crap (if you lucky enough to have 10 gifts :)).
This is my memory about X-mas.
I don’t actually remember a gift in the last years I was happy with. So this is an idea I came up with. Christmas gifts recycle center.
You come to the place and swap one rubbish gift for another… Keep it for a year in the basement and give it to a person who presented you with rubbish gift in the first place.
So if you get the next Christmas a rubbish present from me, blame yourself for it.
Hazel
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I have noticed that things go “in slow motion” at the moment of danger. Yesterday I was watching a movie. There was a head-on 2 cars collision, and the crash was shown as driver could see it, and really slow. It brought back my memory of a car crash. I wasn’t the one driving, but it is still an interesting story: I was in the passenger seat as my brother was driving. It was winter, so the roads were rather icy. My brother was eating KFC, talking on his cell phone, and thought we were in four wheel drive. We weren’t. As we headed up a hill, we hit an icy patch and went into a fast spin. Everything slowed down at once, like 5 frames a second. My brother was talking to my mother on the cell phone, and simply sat quietly, listening to her speak, as he tried to pull us out of our whirlwind of death. It felt like it all took few minutes, but probably it took 10 seconds or so.
Eventually my brother managed to bring us to a stop in the ditch (right next to a telephone pole) and said calmly, “Mom, I gotta go.” He clapped his cell phone shut, turned to me, and went “Holy SHIT.”
I noticed I had dropped my chicken. We have survived.
goofyfish
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