Measured Mortality

Hello people,

I write this post in a room where second-youngest person is roughly twice my age. Two ladies are seriously discussing the apparently modern trend of fitted clothes that leave nothing to the imagination. Seriously. One of them has just asserted that it is likely the trend has come from France. I feel like this is too funny to be real. Too stereotyped for these people to be anything other than old hammy actors.

I feel comforted by my youth. I use it as an alibi for feeling insecure and making foolish choices. I think how happy I'll be when I'm fifty and I know longer worry about everything and I feel comfortable in my own skin. But what if that's a mirage? Perhaps I should poll this room full of sexa-/septa-/octogenarians and see how many among them are still riddled by the pains of existence.

Really I've just never known love.
Love would help I think.
Someone with balm for hands and words that say "You are not alone. I am here with you." But not Michael Jackson.
I administer drugs to fragile bodies on a daily basis. Bodies like the bodies in this room, and also like Michael Jackson.
It's like cleaning the windows on a house of cards.
What I'm saying is: I could kill someone today. If I had the inclination. Not that I'm saying that. You know, not that I'm saying Michael Jackson was killed.

Why do I need to know why leaves fall from trees? Their growth and their life are beautiful. They then litter footpaths with crispy golden goodness. But the most fascinating thing is the fall. The seconds in which the fall occurs. The sever, the fall, the stillness.

Death I've seen with my eyes. Love I've seen with my eyes. Surely a real experience of one or the other will visit me soon.

Is this a morbid blog? I'm sorry if it is.
The next post will be about slapstick and puppies. Promise.

-Yuri

On Loneliness and Manliness

Hi,

Some people are better at keeping secrets than others. My secret to keeping secrets is solitude. It leads me not into temptation. I just keep my dirty laundry to myself.

I think it might qualify as ironic that solitude can lead to madness, but we require assistance to apply a straightjacket.

I'd like to spend a day or so in a straightjacket, but I'd hate to fall and break my teeth. I already did that when I was fourteen. I had an exposed nerve. I've never felt anything like it since. And do they have gayjackets? Or are gay people unflappably sane? There's a gay girl at my work called Lisa, she's really cool and she seems pretty well-adjusted. Perhaps I'll need to gather more empirical evidence to prove this hypothesis with any statistical significance. I guess it would be cruel of the gays to possess the secret to mental stability and to sit quietly by while the heteros go bonkers.

I wish I hadn't written "gayjackets". How imbecilic.

I have smaller hands than most men. I think. That's bears no relevance to anything else though. I mean, I've got a totally massive wang and stuff. But sometimes I wish I could catch someone's punch and twist their hand around like JCVD does. I guess I'd need to incite someone to punch me first. If anyone has any suggestions as to the best way to get punched, really punched, by a stranger, please contribute. I'm curious.

Masculinity doesn't understand itself. If it strives to, it is no longer masculinity. Strangely, describing femininity can be part of masculinity, in the sense that telling other people what's what seems a masculine disposition. But that isn't understanding. True understanding is in a labyrinth in which masculinity refuses to tread lightly, so all the scurrying pearls elude it.
If I hate men it's ok, but I'm terrified I might hate women. And by hate I mean fear.

Sorry if this suddenly got political. If you have contrary feelings, trust them. You're much more likely to be right than me.

But still, I've got a totally massive wang and stuff.

Stay well.

-Yuri

YWW goes fourth

Hey everyone (Is there an everyone? Will anyone actually read this? I'm cautiously optimistic...),

I saw a man walking a ferret today. Seriously. A large man too. And the ferret had this little blue harness and thin blue lead and boundless curiosity. The plundering/lumbering boots barely balanced the big/big man, and the little ferret was dancing with death it seemed with each of the man's terrible paces.
I think I heard him say the ferret's name was Monty.

I've started eating sugar-free dark chocolate. I know it sounds lame-o but it's surprisingly satisfying. You can get it with Acai (pronounced Ah-sah-ee) berries.
People are so hooked on this idea of super-fruits. Acai berries are a super-fruit.
Even cranberry juice, which has been happily selling itself for years as a refreshing beverage and natural diuretic, is now adopting this phrase "super fruit" into it's marketing.
In Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers, Street Fighter, and various awesome Japanese children's entertainment vehicles, "super" was like the first level of upgrade, then there was "mega", then there was "ultra", and so on.
I can't wait until we have ultra-fruit. I'm fairly sure that will enable the powers of flight and teleportation.

I have a secret hidden in my apartment. In a wooden chest.
I think it's healthy to have secrets. So long as they're not hurting anyone.
And I'm not hurting anyone.

I'm seriously a nurse. A reader of this blog wrote and asked if I'm seriously a nurse. The answer is yes. I work mostly with the elderly and extremely infirm. It makes for a very quiet workplace. Not much conversation. Unless you can speak with the rhythmic pings and beeps that echo through the rooms. I can't. Yet...
I actually really like being a nurse. When I'm caring for someone, I know I'm giving them a direct line of help, which is selfless on my part, and it's something that they need. I'd hate it if I thought I was helping but then I found out that the person just thought I was irritating. But changing drips is unequivocally helpful, and desirable. So I'm doing good. I really like my work.

And to finish today's post, a few nice words. Each nice word has multiple definitions that form an amusing relationship within the nice word:
Career
Ravel
Quodlibet
Well (see physics textbooks for this one)

Thanks for reading.

-Yuri

I am invisible to night.

Hi, it's me again.

I heard a really funny joke on the radio at work today about swine flu. But it's really frustrating because I know it was really funny but I can't remember the wording. If anyone was listening to those two comedian guys at around four-thirty and remembers the joke, could you please post it? It was so funny and I laughed till my tummy hurt, but now I can't remember it at all. Please help.

Also, tonight I found some yellow paper wedged into a crack in the skirting in my bedroom. This is what was written on it:

I am invisible to night
Unlike the nights when I was oh so repugnantly conspicuous
now
to night
I am invisible
My keen responsive dance bifurcated the revellers' visions and now I sit within their retinal lapses
In prayer
In prayer for a prayer for revelation
Self-revelation
Of
Not unto
The hip-hips and brays will part and I shall receive illumination
Self-illumination
Of
Not unto
I have prospected enough
Shit I've derricked well my wells and well this piggy needs must go to market and
set up shop
But
As I said
I am invisible to night
No amount of ambition will serve to demystify or even de-mist me now.
I am such the stuff of polarity's devilry if but the entirity of the world would tilt its head to a side I would burn out their eyes.

And that was the end of it. No name, no date. Pretty interesting I reckon.

Yeah, so once again if anyone knows that heaps funny swine flu joke from the radio guys, can you please post it here as a comment?

Thanks heaps.

-Yuri

An interview with me conducted by me:

So Yuri, you live alone do you?

I was about to say yes, but the very nature of this interview has, I think, cast some ambiguous plurality on my apparently solitary living arrangements. Wouldn't you agree?

No. You live alone Yuri.

If you knew why did you ask?

Why don't you live in a sharehouse?

I work long hours and I would feel guilty about not contributing to the group environment. And on the occasions that I was home, I would worry that I was in people's hair too much. And I don't want to be involved in any unpleasant disputes over money. And I think everyone needs their own space to feel safe.

Do you feel safe?

Yes.

Would you like to live with other people one day?

I'd love, one day, to have a family. One day. I think that would be terrific. So yes.

New topic. If you were any kind of animal, do you think people would treat you differently?

That's a very funny question. Obviously, yes. People treat people with a certain unsurprisedness. As if people all behave the way people they know behave, so there's no need to entertain the possibility of opening their eyes and treating anyone any differently. But if I became an animal, I think people might stop and consider me as something novel or dangerous or fascinating.

Are you religious?

I don't go to church, but I do pray a bit. Daily usually.

What is your favourite food?

Akta-Vite. It's technically a drink. It's like Milo, but different.

If you were in a horrific accident and had only seconds to live, what secrets would you reveal to the paramedics?

None. Or maybe the fact that I'm guilty of being too simple and uncomplicated. I wish I had scandals to reveal, but I'm afraid I don't.

You're lying.

To lie is human. Lying is a fusion of wanting and weakness. Maybe the most human of all actions. If I am lying, it's because it feels good.

That's an interesting thought.

Thanks.

-Yuri