As I briefly “eluded” to in my previous post, it’s September. And with yet another month — of which I’m all too certain will be packed to the brim with the exact, or damn near similar, injustices of the former 31 days — upon us we get a brand new Anti-Empire Report! I urge, no, I beg everyone to read it.
As always, it’s a phenomenal read, and worthy of every single bit of your attention…
As it turns out today, August 5th, 2009, marks the 13th anniversary of my accident. Oh no, unlucky 13?
But, in all seriousness, it’s days just like that of today that enable a “man” to look back and appreciate where a kid has been, and where that same individual might be headed. Frankly, it’s amazingly mind-numbing to consider.
What continues to be most noteworthy about this date is what it also represents, in conjunction with my accident — which was everything but — is the 3rd anniversary of this website’s launch. It’s been 3 years already? Damn, it oddly seems like more. Go figure…
Yesterday I found an interesting premise over at The Guardian, but I didn’t necessarily think much of the article itself. “Dr Rajendra Pachauri, chair of the United Nations Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change” said that “people should have one meat-free day a week if they want to make a personal and effective sacrifice that would help tackle climate change.” And he went on, thankfully, and said “that people should then go on to reduce their meat consumption even further.”Â
I can’t argue with that. IF by eating less meat, he meant, it’s a first step towards reducing ALL meat consumption. The article, of course, was somewhat vague on that point.Â
I wonder if the “Vegetarian” Doctor’s diet includes any “milk, butter and cheese?” What are the odds?
Ever since my accident my “wiring” has been altered from how it was prior to my bump. When use the term “wiring” I’m merely referring to the manner in which my brain communicates with my body. And even more specifically I’m speaking from a physical perspective. In terms of my ability to operate the various parts of my body.
And, yes, I did, for some time, suffer from locked-in syndrome, which insured I couldn’t move voluntarily. But that didn’t mean I was a soft pile of skin and bone. Far from it. I did my fair share of moving, during that time, in the form of spasms. Often it was a reaction to something as non-threatening as a persons touch. It freaked out more than one massage therapist. That’s right, two.
I was a mess. And it hurt. Bad…