silversolitaire: (bushed)
been hit by a spell of vomiting sickness on top of everything. just great.
silversolitaire: (neener-neener-neener)
Okay, so I was watching this CSI: NY episode a couple of days ago. I totally forgot what it was called. As a matter of fact, I even forgot what the damn case was. But one thing struck me as odd. The episode opened up with some guy holding his toothbrush into the stream from the faucet. He's not looking and doesn't notice how the water that's coming out of the faucet is blood red. Scene cuts to a guy in the shower being covered with red. Cut to body floating in the water tank on the roof.

Now that struck me as odd. I doubted that a body would manage to tint the entire amount of water blood red like that. Pink tinge maybe, yeah, but not red like normal blood. So I did some mathing. Or rather, I let Tom do the math LOL. Anyway, judged by the size of the tank in relation to the actors, the water level etc. we estimated the amount of water in the tank to be around 25,000 liters (cutting short on the math here). If we assume the average body has 7 liters of blood (even though it'd be odd to think that the body would bleed out completely, let's just think it did) it would break down to about 1 ml of blood on 3.5 liters of water. Why I broke it down to that much?

So I could do this!

Caution, images featuring 1 ml of blood and a needle going into an (my) arm )
silversolitaire: (Default)

Yesterday I said that my car accident didn't leave any scars behind. Today I realized that this wasn't true. While cleaning up I found a copy of the screenplay of Velvet Goldmine, my most favorite movie in the whole world. This certain book was one of my most cherished ones. I had it with me when my car crashed and overturned. I thought it was lost and when I finally saw my car again, totalled and dead, I found it lying behind the driver's seat. It was stained with grass and there was dirt and sand all over it. Some strange fluid had drenched the pages with the glossy pictures and it was ripped, scratched and creased. I was devastated and tossed it in a box, determined to buy a new one.Mind you, I love all of my books and I always exercise great care when handling them. There's nothing that infuriates me more than someone bending the back of my books, staining or scratching the cover or dog-earing the pages. I've started fights over this issue. When I was fleeing from a burning hotel in Paris all I took with me was my copy of "The Art of The Hunchback of Notre-Dame" (okay, that was rather by mistake actually, but I do love this book, LOL).So I took this book and brought it home. I hadn't seen it again since then. Today I found it under a pile of magazines, next to the bag that contained the last remains of my beautiful car... a shard of glass, the badge and a piece of the tree that stuck through the back window. I took the book and leafed through it. Sand and dried grass poured from it and I realized that I loved this book even more than ever. I took a pencil and jotted down some notes on the pages, no longer afraid to do that since the book was ruined anyway. And it looks wonderful.

I thought about what my grandfather used to say... He was a man who never read something without a pen in his hands. He wrote whatever he thought about it on the pages. I used to ask him how he could do that, ruin a beautiful book like that. And he said to me: "If you've got a book that is so dear to your heart that you want to make it yours completely and give something of yourself into it, how can that be wrong?" I never understood that.

Now I do. I will always love this book, although it's the ugliest, dirtiest book in the sorriest state I own. It will be mine forever and it will be the scars I was supposed to have...

silversolitaire: (Default)

While I was driving home from work today, I had the weirdest thoughts. Like I always do when I can't do anything but stare for an hour. I either get increasingly tired or my mind starts to race. Thank God the latter happened today. While driving to work this morning (at 6:30, mind you) I had so many ideas for this book that's been haunting my brain for years now. And much to my own surprise it turned out to be so much different from what I thought it would. My initial idea was something gloomy, darkly romantic. And now it even got funny in a way. That's too weird. But I was so full of ideas, I had to write it down at once. I love it when that happens.

And then, when driving back from work, my thoughts got increasingly sinister. I saw my own blood today. In a very natural way, actually. But it had the same effect on me as always. I just love my skin, so white, and then these ruby red trickles as a contrast... it's bewitching. I immediately knew again why this is the only way to keep me calm when my depressions won't let me rest. I wonder... is it normal to have these desires?

I realized today that I'm in constant danger of dying. Because it could happen to me that I was just bleeding to death without meaning to. I can see myself, sitting in a chair, my arm dangling down the side, a large gash on it and blood dripping from it, down on the floor. It's such a beautiful image. I can feel the peacefulness of this moment, the sweet joy... how it would tickle and tingle, burning so sweetly... even now I want to do it. But I'm not suicidal at all! I don't want to die, I see no reason to. Still... I just might not be able to resist the... sweeter taste of pain anymore one day.

I will have to make sure to add this paragraph to my will: "Should I have died like that, believe me, I didn't mean to. I wasn't looking for death... I just couldn't resist the sweetness any longer."

I am afraid of my self-destruction sometimes. I was speeding again today and while I did it suddenly so many moments of my car crash came back to my memory. Now I remember how the car started to slide, the screaming of the tires. That I remember. I remember how the metal howled when it bended and the shattering of the glass. When I watched Mission: Impossible 2 I got so sick at the realistic sounds. Now I know why... But I am still missing the essential 30 seconds. Those will never come back, I'm sure. At least I know now what I did right after I came to myself, dangling in the security belts down the roof of my car. I turned off the radio! It was still working and it was so loud! It was Rage against the Machine - Know your Enemy. I never listened to this song again and this is almost six months ago now.

I wonder if I'm trying to force something... speeding that way. Why did I do that?

One thing I really regret about this car crash is that I didn't get any scars. Really. I would have wanted that. A constant reminder of it. I know the story of every single scar on my body. It's my diary. If I had gotten just one scar, to keep the memory for ever... but I didn't cut anything, despite dropping on the shattered sunshine roof... I really regret that a lot...


silversolitaire: (Default)

February 2009

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