Don't act like y'all don't know where we be neither.

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Saturday, September 10, 2011

Where Were You...

...when you read that I almost got killed by a Cottonmouth?

Today is the 10 month and a day anniversary of the publishing of that emotionally charged and bone chilling post.

How have you dealt with the shocking realization that the web came so close to losing the author of this blog...before the internets was even known to the general public?

Were you able to say a prayer of thanks and move past it...or have you been obsessively replaying the event in your mind just to make sure I did actually survive unscathed?

How has your life changed since that moment? Do you now cherish every word of every post as if it was the last. Do you read like I was dying?

Do you panic if a few days pass without a post...terrified that Satan's hand puppet has come back to finish the job?

Or was the emotional turmoil of it all just too much, too much to process and, unable to cope, you've cut your internet off completely.

Tell us your story. Make it an emotional performance...prance and preen. Solipsize the event so we can all have a better understanding of how to deal with it.

You don't know who you might be helping.

Please acknowledge a moment of silence before hitting respond.


  1. You are such a dip!

  2. Let us never forget the one who almost fell. He's in our thoughts always, at least on those occasions he reminds of his continuing existence and how once, almost, the world changed forever. Remain partially active in peace and God bless.

    Speaking of near - but not really - tragic circumstances, I crinked my neck so bad yesterday morning, I decided to lie down and couldn't get up for the next 24 hrs. Thankfully, when I was finally able to, I made my way, slow-footed and haltingly,to the pharmacy just up the street that opens, mercifully, on Sundays. I've never had to go in before, but I figured they were the people to see about drugs, especially since it's know locally as the "junkie chemist" as evidenced from the number of smack-heads hovering outside, eyeing the security guards through the window, waiting to pick up their methadone prescriptions; presumably, there dealers having ploughed a dry spell. So, I hobbled there, shaking in pain any time I had to step up or down a curb or try turn my head around to spot a potential hit and run perpetrator when crossing the road, and now I'm back with my anti-inflammatory and pain relief pills and a bottle of red.

    On ad hoc related matter to the latter of those medicinal substances listed, last week I went out for dinner to celebrate a friend's birthday when, with no intentional malice, I interrupted another friend's wine order only to point out that he was guilty of a common misapprehension - "actually that's not a grape variety but a region, though sometimes they do coincide; so, just because you had it last time from the supermarket, doesn't mean it will taste even remotely the same" - as these words stepped out of my mouth like an over-eager cop pulling someone over for a faulty tail light, I began to wonder why I cared about such things, it really doesn't matter what the wine you pick in a restaurant, unless you are willing to part with a week's wage, and how this may be related to my rapidly nearing big 4-0. Forty. If thirty was the ease into the road of slow decline, then forty is the ticket office at departure terminal - you have reached the point were you once dreamed the football coach notices you playing ball with your dog in the park and is so impressed he invites you for try-outs, now fades to wondering at which transitional moment you were now able to balance a bear can on your belly while watching the football.

    Anyway, I thought I'd just add my life-affirming story of pharmaceutically-assisted-courage against neck-pained-adversity. Be brave.

  3. Bear can? those pills are really beginning to kick in.

  4. Vanders were crushed? - you make it sound like beetles stomped on by a giant studded boot, their tiny exoskeletons cracked and crushed like egg shells while a leaking viscous liquid acts as a kind of glue so tiny fragments of their shells stick to the sole.

    That's what they want you to think. You have been had my friend. This was all part of the plan. It's all about expectation management. The biggest threat is the threat that doesn't look like it's a threat at all until it really is a threat and it's too late to realise that threat. You have been warned.

  5. have misunderstood.

    Vanderbilt crushed IT! Twice now. "Vanders" is 2 and 0 my man...undefeated in this young season. They beat Connecticut last night...a Division 1 opponent that's had some success in recent years. Vanderbilt's got it goin on.

    We'll get to that....for now normal life must be put on hold as we continue to remember, we must never forget when I told you about what almost happened.

    You've done fine job in this regard...if only we could tie your neck injury to the reading of that terrible post.

    Anonymous...we are not here to judge....only to heal through acceptance but, obviously you have not fully dealt with your emotions concerning this retelling of a tragedy that almost happened. You can continue to throw up a wall of insults between yourself and your true feelings for me. It's understandable...but it will not provide any defense from the onslaught of true emotions should something of this frightening magnitude almost happen again.

    You aren't defending yourself you're isolating yourself. Don't let this almost tragedy, as tragic as it almost was, rule your life.

  6. Just as well Vanders didn't hire me as their publicist. The one thing about severe pain, which I'm glad for, is that it reminds how I under-appreciate feeling normal. Can't tell you how happy I was that I could lift myself out of bed.

  7. Seeing the words crush and Vanderbilt in the same made a forgivable assumption. I was actually kind of surprised about last nights game. Ron Franklin is the business.

    I used to have terrible troubles with my hands that cause me to obsess about feeling normal.

    Hope the pills are good ones.

  8. So, despite your protesting otherwise, you picked me a wonky donkey then? I notice thus far, you have assigned no one else a team, just me, and a shit one at that... is there a message in that?

    Anyways, your a big boy now (physically at least) so if you dont like snakeys go and live somewhere nice a soft like England, whilst you may not like the cold and wet, it won't try to bite your arse off, which is always something.

  9. Oops. Somebody's been paying attention.

    We'll have all official assignments completed by tomorrow morning....we had the burglary, a battle at work, and then this monumental weekend of remembrance.

    Hey, you might get to slide this week. ISBW probably has no idea what happened.

    Georgia was a gamble. They had their backs against the was gonna go one way or the other.

    Run down with official assignments is next up.