“leave the old flesh”

screencap from Videodrome

Because of the disgusting mess Winter has left all over outside, I’ve been working from home. It’s been all the usual perfectly normal work business up until around noon yesterday when a totally new thing happened to me.

I was sitting on my bed, a portrait of terrible posture, leaning over my work laptop gchatting with a co-worker to let him know an issue had been resolved when an impossibly loud cacophony happened all around me. A noise so enormous it felt heavy –oppressive. Suddenly everything was very bright and then very dim and crackle-y like a bad VHS tape. The “tape” ends abruptly with static fuzz, except it was not just on screen it was everything, everywhere I looked. Then I was laying back in my bed, my legs still crossed like I’d been sitting. I don’t recall falling asleep or waking up, only looking around my room bewildered by fuzz and the noise, then silence and seeing the ceiling plain as day.

According to gchat, five minutes had passed since I’d sent the “no prob” to my co-worker, but it was a blip to me. My heart was racing and I was burning up. No one in the house was panicking like they would if that noise had been real.

Still shaking, I got up and went to ask my mother what low blood pressure feels like. She listened to me describe what I’d felt and, alarmed, asked me what I’d eaten for breakfast and how much coffee I’d had so far. (A banana, two slices of toast with cream cheese, two cups of black coffee, one cup of tea — much better than I usually do when I’m in the office just drinking coffee from 8:30am until lunch.) I followed her to the kitchen and munched on some dried fruit while she fixed us sandwiches and described how she feels when her blood sugar is low. Light-headedness and then extreme tiredness. I felt very awake right then, but figured it was because I’d scared myself into alertness passing out like that. I brought the tall glass of orange juice she gave me back upstairs to my laptop and finished my day of work.

Still weirded out a bit, I joked about it online and a friend tells me to look up “Exploding Head Syndrome” and after some hesitation I wiki’d that shit. Sounds like something out of a cartoon, yeah?

Blunt name aside, and despite the part where I don’t really remember feeling tired before-hand, the description of EHS symptoms is pretty much exactly how I explained the experience to Mom, right afterwards. Here’s an abstract from pubmed on EHS and the wiki page on it that made me go hrmmmm.

Weird stuff — especially considering how excellent I am at sleeping and relaxing and being chill. Can you be too tired to notice? Is my work so boring that I don’t even recognize how dull it is? Seriously though, if this type of thing is as common as the Internet would have us believe, I can certainly see how people could think they were haunted or being messed with by aliens.  This was a wee bit too Videodrome for me.

love

Love comes in all shapes and sizes, says the cross-stitched inspirational piece on a friend’s wall. A small love flickers into being like a spark and grows quickly, eager to engulf you. A large love looms like a cloud in the distance. Love is all around you. It is blind and unavoidable, you cannot run fast or far enough.  Love will set you free, and tear you apart; it does not specify an order of operations. It is all you need, it says.  Love would like to add you to its professional network on LinkedIn. Love’s invitation is awaiting your response. Love is patient. It waits.

friends doin’ things

Here’s some rad things going on with friends of mine:

Rolling Stone gave Jes’ compilation project benefiting the Rachel’s Women’s Center in Washington, D.C., Beyond Inversion a four star review, and also had some praise for her band Split Feet‘s track, “Cat Mug on Secretaries Day”. (Best title, right?) Jes was my absolute first serious “internet” friend. We met face-to-face before a lot of folks were even making friends online. We gramps go way back, see.

One of my newest friends, Ethan, wrote this piece, Popping the question: ‘Darling, will you share my health insurance?’ about marriage and healthcare for WHYY’s NewsWorks.

Other flawless friends, Mara and Rebecca, are contestants in the ACLU’s My Big Gay Illegal Wedding campaign. Please vote for them every day until 1/27! Get it, ladies!

We will never be Coil

Weirdest moment today: A toothbrush of the same make/model as my own was laying in the crosswalk at the intersection outside of my office building as I left work tonight, and pausing for what seemed like several minutes but was most definitely less than one, I stared at it wondering how it managed to get there from the relative safety of my bathroom. The most disturbing aspect of this was not, however, that this notion occurred to me at all but that my initial reaction to the “possibility” was merely “huh” not “WHAT?!”

Work might be doing something to me. (I am still not 100% convinced that we are in fact designing/building anything, and aren’t instead part of a research test group taking part in a study on boundaries and stamina.)

Totally unrelated: I’ve written your new experimental dark-ambient neofolk project’s first hit. It’s titled, We Will Never Be Coil.

But every song’s like broken teeth, greyscale, shakin’ in the asylum

Spoken word, ambient sounds, recording in the bathroom

We don’t care, we’re circuit-bending in our dreams.

But everybody’s like Thirlwell, post-punk, synths over blastbeats

Horror score, science, bustin’ up technology

We don’t care, we’re caught up in our own nightmare

And we’ll never be Coil (Coil)

Too much alcohol in our blood

This kind of noise ain’t what it was

We crave a different kind of fuzz

Let us be on your label (label)

You can say we’re like Psychic TV

And man we’ll be cool, cool, cool, cool

Let us drone infinitely