It’s MRI Day. At noon today I’ll be suited up in those ever so stylish johnnies. The nurses will be injecting Easter Egg dyes (swear that’s what they’ve told me it is!) and other crap in my veins. I’ll be strapped down to a thin bench and rolled into a torpedo tube which’ll take, undoubtedly, embarrassing shots of my nekkid brain which’ll end up on the web somewhere insuring that I never get a job with NASA or something. I’ve already said a zillion and one half bits about my rather prodigious, overgrown claustrophobia.
Today though I’m going to be all chilled out. I’m going to defy my inner Woody Allen and mellow the fuck out.
You know, I don't think I could take a mellow evening because I - I don't respond well to mellow. You know what I mean? I have a tendency to - if I get too mellow, I - I ripen and then rot, you know.I’ll try not to rot. Wouldn’t want the techs to have to clean that up.
The Grand Mellowing began last night actually.
I allowed myself a shot of the primo Jamisons that my pal Greg gave me for my birthday. I’m trying to make that beautiful elixir last but yesterday evening was the perfect time to break it open.
Last year’s tube time wasn’t so bad and I owe that all to Doc McKenna who gave me this trick — don’t start taking the calm me down pills (lorazapam) a half hour pre-tubing. Start a day or two before. One at night before bedtime, one in the afternoon of the following day, another at night, on the morning of the MRI and then one a half hour before entry.
The idea is to head off all the anxiety and neuroses before it has the chance to wrap it self around me like some Giger-esque panic beast.
On top of my semi magic pills and that Irish Panacea Potion, I’ll be doing the deep breathing waltz — focusing on my intake and exhale. And I will have my very creative mind wander far — miles and worlds away.
Jen Oni and I are reading Terry Pratchett and Stephen Baxter’s Long Earth Series.
The book explores the theme of how humanity might develop when freed from resource constraints: one example Pratchett has cited is that wars result from lack of land – what would happen if no shortage of land (or gold or oil or food) existed?
The 'Long Earth' is a (possibly infinite) series of parallel worlds that are similar to Earth, which can be reached by using an inexpensive device called a "Stepper". The "close" worlds are almost identical to 'our' Earth (referred to as "Datum Earth"), others differ in greater and greater details, but all share one similarity: on none are there, or have there ever been, Homo sapiens - although the same cannot be said for earlier hominid species, especially Homo habilis.
The book deals primarily with the journeys of Joshua Valienté (a natural 'Stepper') and Lobsang, who claims to be a Tibetan motorcycle repairman reincarnated as an Artificial intelligence.So yeah, while entubed, breathing deeply, I’ll be focusing my mind on other things. What would I find and how would I live on Pratchett/Baxter’s millionth world from our own? Will there be cats or cat-like wonders. Will there be indoor plumbing and TEMPUR-Cloud Luxe mattresses? Will there be Italian Roast coffee shot through with just a hint of french vanilla? Can I trike the Long Earth?
I believe I’ll let my mind explore my Hebridean Bike Sojourn dreams. It looks like, if I start on the Isle of Skye, I’ll have loads of options. There’s the relatively short ride of seven miles around Loch Langaig and the Quirang . Then there’s the 36.53 mile run from Portree to the Kyle of Lochalsh. Hmmm, those seem like a fine start.
That ought to keep my mind busy while the tube’s taking intimate snaps of the insides of my rather interesting brain.