You've Got A Vicious Streak For Someone So Young

All right, so I'm not all that young. But I do possess a vicious streak of which I was once wholly unaware. I'm not proud of it, but neither am I shamed by it, & it does not seem to unleash itself without cause. We'll forgo specifics.

Karma, however, apparently thought I went a little too far. On Sunday, I was making bread. A batch of plain white bread & a loaf of cheddar bread, more or less scheduled to follow each other into the oven. I have not baked in oh! ever so long, but I've got a camping trip coming up & am indulging in a baking binge.

Anyway, the white bread was rising in my pantry in a big glass Pyrex bowl (it was a cool day but my pantry attains the desired 75 to 80 degree temperature at which bread should ideally rise). I carried the cheddar dough over, also in a big glass Pyrex bowl. I thought, hmm, I really should put down this bowl before moving the other. Then, like a big dumb stupid thing, I failed to do that & decided to move both bowls at once. Long story short, I lost the cheddar bread & one of the big bowls, & gained a nice deep slash on my left hand index finger just below the knuckle, which proceeded to bleed profusely. I called my parents to figure out whether it required stitches (the last time I had a cut that deep, I was 14) & decided not to sweat it. Eventually the bleeding stopped (actually, it more slowed than stopped) & the gash really didn't hurt that badly. Then I decided to go buy a gallon of Ralph Lauren Capri Pink & paint until one in the morning. Fantastic idea. I woke up this morning & couldn't even use the damn finger. (The surviving bread turned out beautifully, by the way.)

Longer story short, I went to an immediate care clinic a couple of hours ago. No nerve or tendon damage, just a bad bleeding cut in an unfortunate place. The doctor taped it up, & now I have this lovely splint on my finger. Which still hurts, only now my finger is utterly pointless. I get to wear it for five fun-filled days! And I can't get it wet! AWESOME. Also, since I believe I was about 10 years old the last time I had a tetanus shot, I got one of those too. Which they tell me will start hurting tomorrow. Oh yeah.

On the other hand, karma did see fit to provide me with prescription narcotics as a result of my pain. Lose some, win some. I'm totally going to dope myself into oblivion tonight & watch Performance, which is summat like Ingmar Bergman's Persona on acid, if I recollect correctly. Starring Mick Jagger. The film was completed in 1968, but the producing studio, Warner Brothers, expected the Rolling Stones version of A Hard Day's Night (which, erm, Performance is decidedly not) & were so pissed off that they didn't release it until 1970. I believe they also attempted to sue the film's makers, Nicolas Roeg & Donald Cammell. The poster's tagline: "This film is about madness. And sanity. Fantasy. And reality. Death. And life. Vice. And Versa." Indeed.