Love And Loss

While the dental drama has certainly been the commanding influence in my life as of late, I have cause to reflect on other things.

Sarah, my muse from 1998-99I got lucky in a Google search, and turned up Sarah, a long lost friend from the glory days of when Hog Heaven Studio was just getting finished and beginning to be used. She was the not-quite-girlfriend/muse, and despite such mixed emotions, proved to be quite key in setting into motion a chain of events that carries on to this day. Once told not to contact her, I figured maybe eight years' passing would moderate that stance, and sure enough it did. My letter, one of a confessional and thankful sort that I find myself writing to people periodically, was met with great enthusiasm. It was far more than I had anticipated—by a long shot. In the week and a half since my dental surgery extravaganza began, we've been emailing a lot back and forth, totally catching up on some vital years since we both got married and watched life unfold from our respective positions in marriage. She had a couple kids, I got into gardening and mostly abandoned music, which would have been unimaginable in 1998. To have her back in the picture is like getting a part of me back. Recent years have had many attempts to connect with people, and some crash and burn miserably, but this went quite right. So right that the whole dental ordeal has had some of its ruminative energy taken from it, and I have felt really damned good on the whole. We met up for a couple hours and had more time talking face to face for the first time in over eight years. We apologized for whatever went wrong, and things seem hopeful and new.

A more dubious occasion for this writing is that for the first time ever, my father and I have completed one full year of not talking to one another. It was a year ago that he came to my house to give me shit for how I conducted myself in regards to the old house on Quapaw. It was then I let him have a piece of my mind in a way that I hardly ever have. The thing is, I don't think he can hear me at any volume level, because he seems not to know the language in which I speak. As it is, I am free of him. He thinks of himself as being betrayed by my calling the city to report his illegal construction on a house where I planned to live, and to protect. But he chooses to forget the endless string of smaller betrayals which he has committed against me, and it was some of those that I enumerated to him at high sound pressure levels in the street that night a year ago. Kelli bore witness to it; it had to be done so she and I could solidify our relationship, spared the delusional thinking that my father ever really had anything of my best interest in mind. He probably reads this blog, and a good thing too. His modus opperandi is to operate in secret. He likes people to not know of his exploits. I don't believe in that anymore, so I call him out. His manipulation and lies and secretive behavior won't find refuge with me. He sold the house I loved so he could make a stupendous amount of money at the peak of the market. It was his masterstroke thus far, and all it took was to wait for his parents to die then to get me out of there. (I don't think he planned on my living there when his parents died so he had to work things out for a while till he had good reason to get me out.)

This period of December has long associations with me, dating back to meeting someone in 1988 at a church Christmas play. Shelby totally ignited me for year and years. It's hard to believe it was 19 years ago now. And it is also hard to believe that it was seven years ago when it totally crashed and burned as much as it was beautiful and exciting back in 1988. Really, all I needed to know about that relationship was learned in maybe the first 2 years or so, but I foolishly persisted in hoping for a certain romantic development that would never happen. It didn't kill all my hope; it channeled it toward other relationships and activities. The sublimation surely fueled a lot of the Hog Heaven era creative activity from 1998-2000 when it finally seemed to fall apart, timed uncannily well with the end of this odd friendship. Nineteen years ago, the world was drastically transformed for the stodgy, conservative and geeky me. She seemed to be an authentic ear. But however it happened, by the time I found my voice to speak what was on my mind for all those years, it was time to turn that all upside down and basically throw it out. In the span of about a day, everything was over, except for a few burning embers via email in the months to come.

Sorry that it is 2/3 negative. But the excitement I felt this week for having a friend back is the best Christmas present anyone could have given me. Of all the times I Googled her name and other likely terms, this one worked out. I've seen how my family of origin has all collapsed around me. Well, they can have it their way. Maybe they all know something I don't know about me. But I can't figure out how. They don't write or call or email or visit. If so, it's mostly hostile and manipulative. So be it. But for me to get back a friend like this, it's like adding a member of my intentional family back into the fold. Nothing that she or I did ever was as twisted and as damaging as what my family has done to me, or even some of the things that happened in my 12 year old imaginary relationship with Miss 1988. I'm just slowly getting a list of sorts together—those who want to play a role in life, and those who don't. The latter is saddening in that many of them are people I actually share blood with. The former is an evolving thing that is sort of a slow snowball that gathers as it rolls.

It makes me want to say, RAH!

The Exorcism (4 of 3)

Yes folks, you read right! The Exorcism, part four of three! It was all so good, there would be an encore!

I've sort of gotten out of the habit of getting up with normal people at a reasonable time close to when the sun comes up. But today was no problem somehow and getting up at 7:00 was no problem, even considering the day I had ahead of myself. I was vaguely excited. I slept well and would finally get the last of this surgery business out of the way. I decided I'd drive myself and let Kelli get some rest. After all, she has been doing amazingly long days during her season of finals—all take home essays and research papers. So for the first time in weeks, maybe a bit of sleeping in would do her some good. Since I wasn't taking valium today I could drive fine. In lieu of the tasty king's breakfast of yesterday, my breakfast today consisted of three cans of Costco's version of Slim Fast shakes. Hey, that way it's about 750 calories and a bunch of other stuff that isn't too bad for me. I meant to make a smoothie but thought it would all be too cold for the newly discovered spot on my top right molar area. With all the work now accumulating in one mouth, it was also sort of hard to chew with conviction. The shakes did fine for the morning.

You can read the routines of the first three surgeries to get an idea of what was going on. Today was essentially the same, but somehow I was nervous like on the first day. I was shivering in the seat. It was a cold morning, but that wasn't all there was to it. I think what was at work was that I was now facing that all my mouth would be affected for a few days. Even yesterday's work made it hard to talk and I avoided eating for the remainder of the day. All I ate yesterday was that nice breakfast. On top of that, my front bottom teeth, always a very sensitive few for me, and the worst affected of the bunch before I got cleaned up in July, were giving me a feeling of strain or weakness. One is a bit mobile. It has been quite a psychological ball and chain for a long time, but certainly in this whole process, it has been brought to the fore.

I can't believe how much I was shivering, even with a long sleeve and collared shirt. The day I actually needed valium I didn't have it, and today, when you would think that I had the confidence of an old champ, I lost it. However, there was not one gag reflex today compared to about five yesterday when I actually did have valium. Today felt like there was a lot of tooling around with pick-axes and chisels. The grinder thing too seemed to pierce my bone matter and get right to the center of my head. I wasn't liking today. But I survived.

A small bit of the silly putty dressing was taken out on the lower right (last Wednesday's work) and it revealed the very low gumline between two front teeth, and it was a bit of a shock. Even though yesterday's work got included the removal of the top right's dressing and stitches, I was quite tentative about investigating the look and feel of my newly shaped mouthscape. But a glimpse of the lower front (offset a bit to the right) with the stitches still in was a bit of a startling thing. I didn't know it all could be taken so low. Yow.

I was on my own today, so I just drove back home. Kelli was up and about, and even though I left at 8 am or so and was back by 10, she was buzzing around cleaning house with the doors open and the TV on. I threw a stack of pillows together and listened to Keneally's Wooden Smoke CD for the thousandth time this fall season. Then I listened to some more of the Joseph Campbell/Bill Moyers Power of Myth audio, which gives me a far bigger thing to think about than my present situation. And between songs or disks, it's rinse, rinse, rinse with lukewarm water. Today the drugs were not hitting me in the way I needed, so I ended up getting out the big ice pack and while Kelli took a break we napped in the afternoon. The icepack did more good than the drugs but I can only really get what I want from it by laying down. For my lunch, I drank another couple shakes like in the morning. Five of those is a new record for me, but I haven't died yet, and the past few weeks seem to have lost me about 12 pounds from the average of recent years. I guess that is an interesting benefit from having my mouth increasingly incapacitated for almost two weeks now.

I finally got hungry enough to conjure up some tasty, somewhat real food by about 6 pm. I had some soup and a bunch of cheese & spinach raviolis. Mercifully it was nothing much to masticate. We went to Costco to get some more stuff that might give me reasonable nutrition without having to chew much. A giant pack of V8 helps counterbalance the shakes—now I can have chocolate flavor or tomato flavor shakes! In reality though, I think in a couple days I shall be eating real food again, at least some bread and stuff dipped in soup, some lunch meats, and the like. Friday I get all my dressings removed—three at once—and the remaining stitches will dissolve on their own. Days later, it's Christmas at the Calabrese compound, so I am looking forward to eating tasty food there, hopefully with no "event."

We went from Costco to the Calabrese compound for another Urantia book reading, and contrary to my better judgment I did some readings, but it was sore, sore, sore, and hearing certain syllables made me cringe. I don't know yet if it's all the soreness that makes me not enunciate, or the physical stuff like goops of silly putty dressing and newly shaped gumlines, but some syllables just don't get articulated right. I might need to practice speaking. Grrr.

I got home and finished watching Patton, and now this. I shall survive. The demons are gone. A few weeks from now we shall see what condition they left me in.

The Exorcism (3 of 3)

We now return to the gripping drama of dental exorcism, TAPKAE style...

Today was to be the last of my surgeries, and it was to be the most involved for one day, taking on the remaining half of my mouth (left). I woke up at about 10 am for my 1:30 appointment. I was a bit disappointed that I had gone to two pharmacies on Sunday only to find them closed. I had to get some more drugs to get past this third date with the periodontist, and then I supposed I would be on my way. Since my pharmacy attempts were foiled on Sunday, I had to again scramble around in order to get the meds. I wish that the doctor had just prescribed me enough to do the whole procedure, because I've now purchased the same order three times, and I am sure that at least part of that cost could have been avoided. This time I also was prescribed a valium to mellow me out before the surgery. My blood pressure has been too high to get the first half done in one shot, and later after today's session, even with valium, I was told I'd need to do only a quadrant, not the remaining half. So there goes about $11 for a single valium! Oh well, it's all been expense after expense. I bleed money on this the same as I bleed blood.

Anticipating a very arduous day of sore-mouth that might make me loath to eat for many hours, I fixed myself a king's breakfast of a few eggs, bacon, and hash browns, and Kelli ate likewise. Today was the last day she'd have to knock out the last of her papers to wrap up her fifth semester at school. Since I would be on valium for today, she had to drive me. Maybe the valium did some good, but I didn't notice it on the way to the appointment nor during it. If anything, it was able to put me to sleep for a few hours after I got home. But that is getting ahead of myself, isn't it?

By now, it was getting to be a routine. Sign the consent form, lay out the plastic and get reamed for another $650 for two quadrants' work, a few tense minutes in the waiting room, a trip to the pisser to calm a bit, and then to the electric chair for a few minutes of BP checks, chit chat, and prep. Cookie, the assistant of NuYorican descent, made a few jokes in her thick New York accent, and said the last time I was in she was quiet on account of a headache. Today she was a bit chatty but still not as chatty as the first time when she went on about mothers-in-law and their not-so-subtle requests for grandchildren. I wasn't shivering today as much as the first time, but I felt a bit antsy and wasn't as comfortable as the second date on Wednesday. I was beginning to think about what it would all mean once this was done, and what else the doc would have to say about the next plan to fix what still needs fixing, and I know that extractions are in the plan one way or another.

The doc came in and fairly promptly let me know I may have to do just one quadrant again. My heart sank. I just wanted to get this over with during December. Their timeline was either to do it this week or wait till January, and I have work plans for then, and I don't want to prolong this any more than I need to. So I asked if he might do the top left first. He said we'd go through that then see how I was doing, and maybe the bottom could be done too.

Numbing is great once you're numbed, but the needle plunging into not-yet-numb tissue just kills, and I think they worked a bit faster in getting me numb, moving toward the needle faster than it took the topical, Q-tip stuff to kick in. I seemed to feel more tooling this time than the first as they drew back the gums and did some scraping. I don't know if it was a bit less anesthesia or whether the gunk took more pulling at and chiseling, but I felt jerked around more. The first day's bone grinding was not pleasant in the sense of a nice summer breeze, but the subsequent ones seemed to make tones that rocked me deep in my head more than that first day. Still, it all goes pretty fast. It is probably about 10 minutes of that sort of thing. It seems that it's just a few minutes for each process, according to real time, but with four tools in there at once, tongue being held back, and unable to breathe, each bit is an eternity until I can relax. Even with the valium, I don't think I was relaxed one bit. With that realization, the doc said I'd need to come in later to do the last quadrant. I was able get the last one done but it was sooner than I planned—tomorrow at 8:30!

Before long it was over and time to have the dressing put in like a "worm" of silly putty packed in along the boundary between gums and teeth. Then it's pretty much up and out with my ice pack. Today Cookie took out the top right dressing and stitches from the first surgery. I called Kelli and she hurried up to meet me at the street, then it was back for a couple hour's reading (Henri Nouwen's In The Name of Jesus—a short little thing, nice reading about the role of ministers in the 21st century), rinsing, and for once, biting down on a wet tea bag in order to let some tannic acid hopefully stop any bleeding. Don't know if it did, but the peppermint flavor sure was a nicer thing to taste than the bloody gauze. I found that the top right has a real sensitive spot in the back now that it is officially cleared out. I had been rinsing with cold water, but this surely made me rinse with lukewarm water! I read my book all the way through in a couple hours then thought I'd try to watch a long-awaited movie, Patton, but found myself a half hour in with a very sleepy head. Maybe it was valium, but maybe it was just nap time and I was trying to forget. I slept about three hours or so till about 10 pm. Kelli was just getting done with her paper and emailed it to her professor. Instead of getting all happy that she is done, it was a quiet, fall into bed night with not much talk. She was excited but totally depleted of ability to think anymore, and I was sore, with three-quarters of my mouth in some sort of pain or ache—today's work, Wednesday's on the wane, and the first sensations of the first days' work being cleared out and on their own.

See you tomorrow morning. This time, there won't be that king's breakfast to start off with.

The Exorcism (2 of 3)

Welcome to the second installment of this gripping drama about periodontal surgery. For the previous installment, skip back a few entries, or search by tag: "Dental Demons and Exorcism."

Today started off at noon when I awoke to the sounds of Mike Oldfield's Ommadawn album. Hearing a few opening notes is enough, and today I had to cut his 30 minute tune down to about 12 bars because I had just a bit over two hours to prep today to get to my next dental exorcism. So it was off to the kitchen to prepare a hearty feast, but I found I had no bacon ready to go. It was all frozen. Good thing I had some taters that I cleaned up from dinner last night but hadn't used. Breakfast was tasty but I think I copied my dog in the way it was almost inhaled instead of chewed and digested properly.

I had to get more medication, and since I am quite unexperienced with going to doctors and dentists, I don't really understand certain things like how to plan to refill prescriptions in a timely and not-rushed manner. So today, I was calling pharmacy and dentist to organize that, then ran out to get the meds, and more daringly, to run to Costco of all places on the way to the dentist's. It was all a sensible trip; it just was crammed into too tight a time, so I got to Costco and was running around like mad trying to dodge people and carts, and to find my product, which as if it knew I was in a rush, was hidden so that a few laps around the aisles were turning up nothing. I got out of there after the world's slowest checker helped get me by. Good thing Costco and the dentist are about a mile apart. So I came blazing into the dentist's office with 10 minutes to spare, a little excited and rattled from the ordeal on the way. At least I wasn't as worked up as last week when I had the car ride to ruminate and get nervous. This time, Kelli was at school and I was on my own.

At the periodontist's office they got me in and took my blood pressure reading and it was high again, no doubt due to the last minute obstacle course to Rite Aid and Costco. I actually was far more mentally prepared for today, having last week to prepare me, and having no complications since. But the BP was too high so they let me mellow for a while, and took it a few more times, then we were off. It was less chatty this time, and no humor, but it was silent and I had a chance to breathe and to think of piggies or whatever stills my mind. Then it was all business. I had a vague and unfamiliar feeling that I wanted to talk about mothers-in-law and their almost obsessive desire to have grandchildren. But I put that to rest quickly.

The work was much the same as last week, and with a few exceptions was about as smooth as then. Maybe there is less tissue in which to inject anesthetic in the lower teeth, because I seemed to feel things more this time, but it still was not agonizing or anything. I have a tongue that is a jealous protector, and every dentist has to fight it to get to the bottom in particular. This procedure required an assistant anyway, so there was one more tool or finger in there at all times, in addition to the doctor's pieces. It makes it less organized an effort though when it's time to relax or swallow, or with some cutting edges in there, not a good idea to have a gag reflex!

About an hour was all it took, same as last week. This time I went out with no gauze, and sort of wish I had, but I have the stuff on hand. I inquired about a relaxant for next week since they will do half my mouth at once, and this on the heels of the first half being done. Despite the "practice" I will have by then, they thought maybe I should relax so my BP is more acceptable and my tongue does not make such a stand against the invading army, and so he prescribed a Valium.

I got home to find Jim Kunstler's new, as-yet-unpublished book World Made By Hand on my porch. I got a proof copy for review because I did some work on his website and he asked me to make a site to promote the book itself. So this was my homework while I am convalescing, and during the slow, no work period to come. After getting my freeze pack together and rinsing a lot for a half hour (and listening to the audio of the Campbell/Moyers Power of Myth show), I started in on the book. Then, over the following five hours or so, I read about 130 pages of it like it was nothing! I had to rinse a lot today. There was a lot of bleeding. I packed it a couple times but didn't like the feeling of the gauze. So I kept rinsing and icing. I have always been quite sensitive to the bottom front teeth. They always feel to me like they are out in the open somehow, and most sensitive. So they have also been the worst affected because I was almost scared of them so I didn't apply as much care when I should have. So today, I was quite aware of them hurting rather more, but that might be because of the undue mental attention I give them when I worry about them.

Eventually, close to midnight, I got sufficiently hungry that I ate some soup and rice cakes and was happy. Then I busied myself with some dish washing and chronicling this whole thing so you, my dear reader, could enjoy it.

Happy Haiku

Pup on a pantleg
Manifests reality
And it was good

Beauty like a thief
Invades the darkest places
Where'd the darkness go?

Say Rah!

Rah Rah Say Rah Rah
A Hippo Birdie Two Ewe
Bad Beau Peeps Nigh Nate

The Exorcism (1 of 3)

Finally, today was the date of the first surgery on my gums. Last night Kelli drove down from school a day early to hold my hand like a total sweetheart. We got to bed late. It must have been almost two in the morning before I was really out. I awoke to my phone alarm buzzing before the calm opening notes of the Brokeback Mountain theme music. I use that music because it doesn't come crashing in, and it actually sort of sounds like it is meant to sound, even on a speaker about the size of a thumbnail. And, if I don't actually get up, the tune is a beautiful way to start off the day. I usually awaken to the vibration that comes first though, and today it was at 7:55. I had about an hour and fifteen minutes to get ready. So I fixed myself up a nice eggs, bacon, and toast breakfast, knowing full well such a hearty meal would not be had for hours if not days. Outside it was raining; not ferociously, but delightfully so after a very dry year. It was one of those days that was made for staying indoors.

I had other business to tend to that would keep me indoors today. Kelli drove me down to the periodontist not far from our old house. This doctor's office is a place I love and hate now. I hate it because I had all the opportunities in the world to avoid the place. I love it because there is salvation with the doctor-priest who will wave his magic wand over me, and mutter a few words, among other things. I have had a cough for the last week and a half, and today it decided to make itself known in the hour or so before I went under the knife (or whatever the hell he used). I was tense and sort of shivering in nervous anticipation. (Buber the dog shivers that way before he goes for a walk, but I think he does it from delight.) The receptionist took my "money" before the procedure, good for half the total work to be done. Then a trip to the bathroom to collect myself, and into the chair I went.

They were trying to take my blood pressure reading with a digital device and it kept reading too high. Then they tried another device which had fresh batteries, and it too was not satisfactory. The doctor got wind of this and said that maybe I was not ready, or that today would be better off if we only did one quadrant instead of a whole side, top and bottom. I didn't really want to hear about that. This tension was enough and I already had at least one other appointment to look forward to, and dividing the job further was not happy news. There would be three of these mornings? He said since my situation was as bad as it was, this might be a big enough project to take on at this time. The assistant took a bit of time to calm me down with a bit of small talk about mothers in law who beg for grandchildren. I never thought that would calm me down, but it must have worked, though I think that establishes my fear of dental surgery is greater than that of a mother in law who might "get her way" (sorry, Kay).

Anyhow, the first half hour from 9:30 to 10 was pretty much that sort of thing—calming me down so they could work. They had to fumble with some software on a screen behind me, but it sounded like they had a map of what was to be done. Shortly before 10 am, the chair went back and the syringes fired off their magic elixir into my gums on the top right, and we were off and running. The coughing stopped too, for some reason. I think my brain was allocating resources to what had to be front-and-center for the next hour or so. I had nifty face-surrounding shades put on to keep the bright light from fatiguing me, and to keep any blood splashes away. But I was content to just shut my eyes, try to breathe, and fight the urge to climb up the walls.

Some of that was unfounded though. The anesthetic was pretty damned good. I don't know the real order of events, but I do know he first cleared my gums out of the way which on my end felt as if he was bumping them with a rubber spatula. Then there was some time with a motorized/electronic grinder thing which he used to grind down irregularities on the exposed bone, to smooth out the pocketing and rough edges from the random bacterially-induced loss that was the chain I forged link by link over the last years. This part of things actually didn't hurt at all. The tone was piercing but mostly consistent. The time I was there last, doing the general planing work in July, was much more insane in the way the tone resonated my teeth and bones, sometimes hitting a real hotspot of sympathetic vibration in my head. He did about 20 minutes of this bone carving work and then it was on to something else, which I think was the gum work itself, which involved cutting back the parts that had to go, and I guess some other work to give the gums a clean start, so they might have a chance to reattach to bone and teeth now shorn of their toxic and random surfaces.

The next thing I know was at work was that he was putting me back together again. I opened my eyes just a few times and before I knew it, it was time for needles and thread. He worked quite fast, and not much was said even to his assistants, so I didn't have the benefit of narration. As it was, I was more at ease in part because the white noise roar of the vacuum tube and water spritzer nozzle masked the more articulate sounds of speech. When the vacuum was taken out and shut off, it was like having a blanket taken of my ears. I sort of wanted it back in so the clang of tools on enamel and muttered phrases wouldn't register as real sounds. I had far fewer gag reflexes today for some reason. The general "blind" cleaning in July was full of such responses, which slowed the thing down some. My tongue is a staunch defender of its territory so being pried open and having three or four tools bumping around is just too much usually. But today it was manageable, more so considering the cough was lying in wait the whole time.

Then it was over. Considering how months of dread, a short night's sleep, a cough, and more than a $500 copay (for half the work—after a credit from an earlier visit—ultimately the total bill is $1300 not including prescription and other incidentals) all conspired to make it hell, upon leaving, it was actually okay. The dressing they gave me was like silly putty that was pressed all along the row of teeth. It is inside and out, sitting just astride the boundary between tooth and gum. The stitches will be in for a week. This means that my third appointment will be on the the 17th, with the stitches ostensibly due to be taken out on Christmas Eve. We'll see how that goes. In between the originally scheduled dates of today and the 17th, I will have another surgery date next week on the 12th to get the stuff that wasn't done today.

Kelli drove me home, and the rest of the day was just hanging around. For her, this is finals week with many papers to write. For me, bed with an ice pack and some reading or tunes. Today got more and more sore as anesthetic wore off (it's about 9 pm now). Minimal talking. I haven't eaten anything, but I did get some diet-friendly shakes down, which aren't anything to chew of course, and don't have to be flossed out afterwards. Maybe a few pounds might be shed in the process. That wouldn't be a bad thing; I need to keep the general practitioner doctor at bay too.

While chilling out, I got a call from Mitch who offered me a gig for tomorrow. Interesting timing, considering that I was just told not to do any lifting or straining. Man. Mitch's timing is impeccable that way! Even last week would have been good. Or maybe in three days. Or in January!

Time for ice again.

The Day Of The Dental-Lord Cometh

You can read a bit of the backstory in an earlier blog on my theology of dentistry. That post was written a day or two before I went in and got a second go-around of under-the-gum scaling treatment, three years after the first round in mid 2004.

Well, my heart is in my throat again, and my stomach is in knots, with the Day of Reckoning just a few days off. This Friday is the first of two hemispheres’ worth of gum surgery to be done this month. It will be my Christmas present to myself, and perhaps what I deserve for being naughty all these years. There will be, to quote the Gospel of Matthew, “much weeping and gnashing of teeth.” Mercifully, there will be drugs too.

Theological implications aside, I wonder about how it will change me. On the physical level, with receded gums already a reality, I have to wonder what I shall look like with even “longer” teeth as the gums will be trimmed of their bad tissue, the bone reshaped some, and the roots planed while the gums are laid out like flaps, and ultimately the idea is to have the gums be able to be freshened up and able to cling better to thoroughly cleaned teeth. But they will cling lower to the bone and roots of the teeth, so my teeth will look longer. Ah, I can say that the age of 34 is when I officially became “long in the tooth.”

The other concern of mine is how this might change my speech, if at all. I’ve noticed already that certain syllables are harder to voice from what already seems to be a changed mouthscape after a cleaning which, combined with receding gums, opened up spaces where I didn’t know they existed. Certain syllables whistle with a bit of sibilance. So I don’t know how much this surgery will change things. I learned a bit in my voice class at Mesa how sounds are formed against hard and soft surfaces in the mouth, and surgery will change that ratio for me.

On Thanksgiving night, I found myself talking to a fellow partygoer who had this surgery done and he tried to put some comforting words out that if I really “got religion” and followed orders about regular care at home, the surgery would be a major help. Then a week later, I went to another dentist who confirmed the need for surgery but also took a fantastic amount of time to give me a good pep talk/counseling session.

So wish me luck on the Day of the Dental Lord. May he have mercy on my soul.

To My Loyal Audience

Apologies to those who of my biggest, RSS-subscribing fans have been bored with the poetry as of late. I've just been bored with the endless prose format that has primarily defined my writing approach for years. And there have been some personal developments which even I deem a bit too private, though they may eventually work themselves into writings to come.

I redesigned a home page (only) for James Howard Kunstler. Kunstler's book, The Geography of Nowhere, was the thing that started my interests in social issues back in 1998. His blog in more recent years has been important in my understanding of what must happen in the age of peak oil and its decline. Along those lines, his book, The Long Emergency, unified a number of his ideas that evolved in his blogs. But he had a crappy web site for a long time. Finally, I wrote and told him so, and he asked me to help out getting the front page dialed in a bit more. I've been asked to make a promo site for his next book.

I've been reading a lot as of late. Lots of things revolving around Christianity, theology (in a wider sense), and history or politics. I continue to be a total addict to Wikipedia, which is just too cool for a guy like me who likes to meander. Stuff I've been reading in the last few months since getting liberated from the workplace:

• The American Empire and the Commonwealth of God: A Political, Economic, and Religious Statement. David Ray Griffin, John Cobb, Jr., Richard Falk, Catherine Keller. The authors are primarily within the field of Process Theology, this takes a good look at the American rise to empire or "benevolent hegemony" or whatever nice euphemism describes our present place in the world. It comes down very hard on the US for using the power vacuum of the post-Soviet era to increase, not decrease, its commitment to militarism as a primary instrument of foreign policy. The book looks at the lie we have told ourselves in our national mythology—that we are innocently being drawn toward greatness as a superpower, but if any nation should be put in that position, it might as well be us, right? Maybe it isn't that after all. Maybe a more reasoned look shows the US has been imperial for a century and more, with certain roots back to the founding days.
• The Return of the Prodigal Son. Henri Nouwen. Kelli got this at a book fair at her school. The price written inside the used copy was $0.75, and a damned well spent seventy five cents it was, too! This modest book of about 140 pages was just good food for the soul. Henri had to redefine his life and mission when he encountered the Rembrandt painting that depicts the homecoming and forgiveness of the wayward son, as told in the Gospel of Luke. He found that while it was most easy to identify with the wayward, reckless son, he was dared to consider himself as the jealous and dutiful son who remained at home and fulfilled all his roles, only to have his rage explode when his attentiveness was upstaged by his reckless brother's homecoming. Then, in the hardest leap for Nouwen, he found that it was his calling—and all our callings—to become the father who forgives, and celebrates the wholeness that comes from having everyone together again. The father is the ultimate spiritual destination for any of us—to reach that point where the ego is depleted from having been both sons—the reckless parts of our lives, the uptight, dutiful parts, the jealous and the angry parts—and to just accept things with compassion that arises from having "been there."
• Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time. Marcus Borg. This is another dollar well spent at the book fair. I'm just getting started on it, but enough of it is familiar from other reading of this sort. Borg is a member of the Jesus Seminar, the group that is trying to establish the actual historicity of Jesus as a human who walked the earth, and what he said or did not say. Despite being deconstructionist in such an approach, the question then is, what truth remains? He recalls a native American storyteller who began his stories with, 'I don't know if any of this actually happened, but its all true.' The point about Jesus then is not whether he said specifically this or that, or encountered this person or that, but that there is a truth beyond the details, the meaning behind the story that is still something that can speak to us now. Joseph Campbell spoke of unpacking the imagery of myth to get to the meaning beneath. Borg is working in a similar fashion. I endorse such readings of the Bible because then it has a chance to be relevant to me now. The Jesus of Sunday School can only matter for so long before he becomes a joke. But the Jesus-as-social prophet/mystic/teacher/dissident is fascinating. That Jesus I have a use for.
• The Revelation of John. William Barclay. This is actually a part of a series on the New Testament, all from about 1960. I've decided not to hate the book of Revelation like some, and I've decided not to worship it like others seem to do. Revelation is a lot of things to different people. But it isn't what a lot of people think it is if you only know a bit about 666, and the various bits of bullshit that popular culture regurgitates in dreck like the Left Behind series. Only about a year and a half ago I wasn't convinced that the book had any good use, and it may as well be excised from the Bible. But actually it is a very hopeful book—if you understand the medium and the target of its criticism. It is really ironic that American fundamentalists are so ready to hold the book up and cite it because it is really a slam against Rome—the oppressive empire of the day. It is written from the underside of that tyranny, and seeks to assure the faithful that the worst human evils are still no match for God's power. One could imagine such a document being written in the present day by a group that feels under the boot of American imperial power—some folks in the middle east, maybe? It is a bit odd then that for Revelation to be truly understood and appreciated, you can't read it as a member of the dominant power structure, which America clearly is in a way that Rome could only dream of. So it is interesting that Americans make the biggest deal about Revelation, claiming that God's kingdom is right around the corner... I don't particularly like the Christ-as-conquerer imagery, but I do like the idea that maybe God can still best us when we deserve it. In that regard, thinking that there has to be some check on human arrogance and evil, I stand with John of Patmos. The thought that this is all there is...depresses me. Maybe there won't be a city descending from the clouds, but one has to hope this crooked, fucked up world isn't all we have to look forward to.
• The Closing of the Western Mind. Charles Freeman. I've had this book for a couple years but finally got down to reading it and have finished about half of it. The sad irony in history is that Christianity, a noble religion in principle, was compromised from the beginning of the movement, and Paul of Tarsus' insults to the Greek philosophers didn't help. Greek thought had been refined for centuries before Paul, but he came by and demeaned it as kid's play compared to the need for faith in Christ. Paul then ushered in the closing of the western mind, and it was most solidified when the religion teamed up with empire, and what was ostensibly a nuisance and fringe player, became the religion of the empire, and even more than in its non-empire days, became quite intolerant of anything that ran contrary to its doctrine. Unfortunate, really. I think this book, while primarily a history book, is more of a cautionary book for our age. It might have taken the English Freeman to write this book, but Americans need it in a big way. Contrary to popular belief, you don't need to stick your head in the sand to be a Christian. You don't need to hate and fear science. Today's fundamentalism can surely lead us to a new dark age if it gets cozy with power.

Thanks

Thanks for Caleb and John.

Thanks for family of choice.

Thanks for Buber the Dog.

Thanks for a full plate whether I need it or not.

Thanks for the plants that grow in the back yard.

Thanks for the Toyota that still runs.

Thanks for the metanoia.

Thanks for the return of the swine.

Thanks for the fire crews who saved a city.

Thanks for those who don't give up.

Thanks for the flying colors.

Thanks for holy moments in unholy places.

Thanks for gay marriage, abortion, the homeless, and athiests.

Thanks for the story.

Thanks for the glass whether it is half or half.

Thanks for the house of mirrors.

Thanks for the empty nest.

Thanks for the market crash.

Thanks for the end of the world as we know it.

Thanks for El Cotixan and Satan's.

Thanks for opportunities to get it right.

Thanks for forgiveness when we get it wrong.

Thanks for the Sabbath.

Thanks for peak oil and global warming.

Thanks for heartbreak.

Thanks for loss.

Thanks for a role in the play.

Thanks for midnight.

Thanks for love.

Thanks for compost.

Thanks for the magician.

Thanks for mystery.

Thanks for wonder.

Thanks for a loving wife.