Is My Voodoo Working?
There’s a black snake who lives in my lower abdomen. He’s not too much trouble. Anyway, what can you do? Some people lose their hair or get skin diseases with big scary names. But I have a black snake who lives in my lower abdomen. There are worse fates. For instance, unrequited love and buses that never saw you or your bike. The Buddha said that life is suffering. Most of that suffering arises from trying to avoid it. So for me? I befriend the black snake in my lower abdomen. Welcome. Have a cup of tea my long black terrifying friend.
For the most part I don’t notice him, which is as it should be; there’s room enough in my lower abdomen. But when I run, it makes the black snake irritable and he becomes disagreeable. It hurts. My doctor thought initially that my issue was constipation and then he decided a jock strap would solve the problem. There’s a few things to check off the list before the Western approach to medicine finally concedes to the diagnosis of black snake.
Currently, there’s a lot of ball fondling, looking to the right, coughing—coughing again. There’s gooed up fingers in my ass pressing and holding various areas of my deepest ass parts: “That hurt?” “No.” “That hurt?” “N-no” (shudder). Should I tell him to go for two? Am I gay? What does it mean that used bookstores make me want to kiss strangers? In early January there will be urinary studies and ultrasounds and I will wonder if I have cancer. Perversely, I will hope that I do, not tell anyone, and take intellectual pleasure in wondering how I can simultaneously lust for immortality while dreaming of my bleached bones lodged in beach sand, hard, steadfast, enduring the waves.
As I near the end of the best year of my entire life (by far—I wish I could tell you—you wouldn’t believe me), I can’t think of a single resolution to launch me into 2012. In contrast to resolving, I submit to dissolving. Haven’t we all had enough of the worry, the striving, the relentless self improvement? As opposed to running every day, I intend to dwell on the man who feels compelled to run every day. What’s his story? Who is this man who insists on coherence, meaning, the tied up bow of making sense? Have you considered the true locale of contradiction? Why do I write? And to what end? Do I have problems or do problems have me? What might it mean for me to sprinkle myself like sugar in a cup of black coffee? The sugar disappears, yeah, but the coffee’s still sweet.
Happy New Year to you and yours and all the black snakes that are sure to bless and plague you. Rock the boat. Fuck shit up. And then see how it comes to pass independent of you. ~bhj
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Reader Comments (11)
After reading this, I clicked over onto the "Wind" link... and found a post from May 2009 in which you talk about the python in your head.
Sounds like you've been infested with serpents for quite some time.
happy new year to you... and your snake.
cough.
Happy New Year to you, too! May your best year yet continue to make it two in a row.
Black snake, be gone! cuz your mom said. Missing you and hoping to see you this summer. Love to you, Mom
I'm glad you had a great 2011 and that the snakes, like the bastards, won't get you down.
Happy New Year! Keep running. Fuck the snake and his discomfort. He's just jealous because he doesn't have legs.
2011 hasn't been my favourite year. Maybe it's time to embrace the snake. That sounds a bit lurid.
Love you, snake infested and all.
I wanted this post to go on and on. So fantastic. Happy New Year, BHJ, and I look forward to reading more in 2012. Oh, and maybe you should consider calling an exterminator.
used bookstores make me want to kiss strangers, too.
i think i'd rather have you undissolved. may the year treat you beautifully.
You're my favourite.
may 2012 be as good of a year to you as the last one. why not have 2 in a row? for you and your serpent. i wish you well.