Should I be concerned that the dentist who agreed to help me asked me to come at 8 in the morning although his working hours are officially starting at noon?

I mean, I DID write him a very detailed letter about how I feel.

Is it normal they ask you to come so far removed from every other client, just in case you try to break the chair and escape through a wall, or is it the expected screaming?

What is the legal amount of anti-anxiety medication available over the counter these days, I wonder?*

*Good thing I'm so anti-drug and I advocate for feeling everything at the same time all the time. My hands are already shaking, but ... I am still here. It's also kind of helping my prose. I'm reaching Lovecraftian depths of horror and despair in the scene I'm writing this week.

I had a really ugly and shitty dream right now during a nap.

Alright, alright, I'm going to see a dentist. Yeesh.

Wreening the Witcher (Watching the show while reading the book at the same time. I mean, not SAME same time, just, these days.) Not an ideal headspace for the "Endgame" chapter, the most depressing and destructive of all short stories in Goose, and the closest to catharsis as the book gets, but it is not far off. I don't yet have the message for it, just the meat of the story. I suppose it is best to abandon Kay's cynical optimistic attitude for the thoroughly defeated episode, especially since if she was the only idealist left, her demise would be too obvious. Perhaps that is what the story needs. The thorough defeat of optimism and light. Will be a little harder to catch a proper note for the epilogue afterward. There are four corners of the story, each still needs the dialogue, but the structure is set: the dinner party which the Goose and Kay go to, just before she figures out the riddle script; the event where Goose deals with people who try to hurt a kid of one of his writers' and Kay sends him walking home though starless; the birth of his first oneiros son which goes terribly wrong, and finally, Goose's mental breakdown in which he finally transforms into the nightmare he's been all along and Kay agrees to have sex with him while he tears her to pieces. The trick is to make it really, really dark. As dark as the scene in the beginning in the garden. Exactly as dark. It's supposed to demonstrate that the worst nightmare he can lock her in is the stage in which Kay operates the best and prove to him that when the time comes for him to lose it completely and sink to the bottom, she will be there waiting.  

Motherfucking tooth broke

I have spent MONTHS singing praise on how well the tooth is holding up and how much I respect it and how dear it is to me and how I would rather suffer the pain than go to the dentist, risking the whole thing falling to bits if disturbed. I've managed to photograph it, stuffing the phone into my beak from various vantages, and assessed that the burning pain - as opposed to the hot heavy pain that makes it seem like it's too large for the face and is pulsating - comes either from where the filling merges into the adjacent tooth and the rot has crept underneath between them, or a small black dot on the side of one. I had the whole battle plan ready.

And this morning the tip of the crown - one out of four tips sticking out of the black filling -just breaks off and falls into the sink. I was so shocked I just stared at it a little, wondering what this could possibly mean. It didn't HURT any worse than already. I mean, it hurts. I really need to see a dentist. But why would the fucking thing just fall off? 

Looking back now, all of this began when I bit down on a shell, a walnut shell it was, I think, a bit of it in a biscuit. I remember it hurt and that's probably when both teeth - the big black molar and the small white premolar underneath it cracked. The small white one seems to be calming down. I think. Dunno. I'll deal with it some other time. The big black one, well, it looks like combined with the pressure I put into it, the rot and decay and whatever else is going on in there ... Just decided to let me know ignoring it may not be the best strategy at this point.

Not that I can, really. The edge of the filling left behind is threatening to cut the tongue. Soups and pudding for me, it seems. No blowjobs until at least Thursday. 

How much do you wanna bet the whole thing will be a disaster? That as soon as he tried to fix something, the whole tooth will fall apart and will need to be pulled and the two adjacent will need so much repair I'll go bankrupt just patching up the shards? 

Good thing I watched 1917. Half of my brain is rolling its proverbial eye, giving me the 'no please, tell me about the drama you're going through while watching a WWI movie riddled with rotting corpses' ...

How to watch 1917 if you are, like me, not able to watch stabbings, strangulation or burning alive?

There are huge pros and cons to having a brain like mine. A brain like mine will read that there are 500 confirmed people infected and 17 dead, so that is about, give or take data blanks, 5% mortality rate for this latest plague we're having. SARS was 10 and MERS was about 30. Already my brain is going through the odds of this being the one that finally fucks us. Because everything else is survivable with a good strategy, except viruses. Viruses get you.

A brain like mine is able to seamlessly piece together a narrative no matter which direction I patch it in - I can read/watch/listen from start to finish, bits here bits there, ending first, opening first, 'safe' bits in between ... It is absolutely no difference if I sit in a theatre and get it all in one fell swoop or if I take a year to watch fragments. 

A brain like mine is also no longer able to watch the realistic portrayal of grievous bodily harm or death that isn't, strictly speaking, by a car crash or a gunshot or drowning or fistfight or even someone doing someone in with a hatchet or a cleaver. Getting impaled by things, like construction material flying during an automobile collision, I hate it, but I don't care, really. I mean, I really care in the Real-world, I never drive behind a truck carrying construction material or wood logs. 

But hanging, slow stabbing, strangulation and being killed by fire, especially in water (oil spills, in case you blinked here for a second), and to a degree being crushed slowly .... No matter how good a film is, I simply cannot watch that. I will skip the whole epic film because of a minute or not even that of having to experience it. Obviously, we are talking about realistic films, not Kill Bill.

So? How do I watch? 

It IS an interesting process, I'll admit. And 1917, that is a behemoth of cinematic mastery. I haven't seen a movie that well done since Blade Runner 2049. This probably isn't a coincidence, taking into account both were directed by talented people who are well versed in the business and were able to afford the best cinematographer working today. And both movies latch onto the lead role of a bland young man with a dejected attitude and sad droopy big eyes, washed out from all the shits not given. The fact that 1917 also has that -one shot- thing going for it and it is one of the better portrayals of the shitshows that wars are, all those rotting nameless dead left behind, means little. It's an A+ movie. I just gotsta find a way to see it, leaving bits out which would further damage my fickle brain. 

People buy cunt-scented candles from celebrities and there's a new deadly virus. So ... same old, same old.

While a lady donated 1 million dollars she got by selling her nudes for the cause - I think something to do with Australia being on fire, we've narrowly avoided WW3, again. And I was thinking, watching the Americans get involved with conflict regions is ... basically watching a big guy, who comes upon two people, random strangers, fighting in the street. And this big guy gets involved by arming them both - but one with a gun and the other with the ammo and then he offers to sell the missing halves or a hefty price. Which people, being people, pay. So when someone gets dead on account of being a retard, which predictably humans are, calling it greed, pride, honor, grudge, tradition, culture or public relations or whatever, the big guy then goes to their surviving family and offers to sell them food and iPhones. 

          I struggle every day to match the amoung of admirable people to the amount of .... yeah. It's not working.

Warcraft 8.3

I was thinking, with everything that's been going on in Warcraft lately ... the SIZE of that damn game. I, who have been playing it since, well, 1.2, and for all intents and purposes know every last bit of it, even I have no sense of the scale of the thing anymore. It is so impossibly massive with such impossibly detailed lore and fleshed out characters, it takes someone literally a decade and more to comprehend it. I was thinking this, because while trying to repair Azeroth's wounds, I was sent to revisit some of the old, not just patches of land, but dimensions and illusions. Dreams, undergrounds, echoes and parallel timelines. That is ON TOP of a massive map spanning well over three worlds. To me, they all make sense, because I was there when those things were either ripped into existence or toppled out of it and I know the names of those who destroyed and saved it. Fuck it, I've watched Anduin grow up and I almost came last week, when he sucker-punched that faggoty self-righteous thundercunt Wrathion in the dumb face. I still have the likeness of Hellscream as my phone locked-screen and believe deeply in my Horde. I read the books. I watch Nobbel's YouTube channel on specific individuals and their histories. Heck, just the other day I negotiated an alliance with the Vulperae for the dubious Baine. We have clever little foxes in our ranks now! And the allies can ride giant bees! All the while the world is literally crumbling to pieces under our feet. How awesome is that?

Pumpkin Pie is back! He had a jolly good time and I am super happy he did, but man do I miss him when he's away.

One of the funniest moments he reported was one of the other men announcing, surprised, he is quite curious about the total lack of wives bothering and texting and calling - until they informed him the valley has no signal. Oh, the blessed shock and amazement on the poor man's face. He's never been so happy. 

Fucking men and their idiotically simple pathways to bliss :D Roast and beer and complete lack of signal.