Wednesday, April 1, 2009

track 4 probe

WAP 5.

|ˌabsɪs| |-sɛs|

a swollen area within body tissue, containing an accumulation of pus.

ORIGIN mid 16th cent.: from Latin
abscessus ‘a going away,’ from the verb abscedere, from ab- ‘away from’ + cedere ‘go,’ referring to the elimination of infected matter via the pus.

Hmmm. I seem to have developed an abscess.

My doctor has prescribed a short course of antibiotics - a penicillin blitzkrieg - but I fear a more invasive approach may ultimately be required. An excision. A sharpening of knives.

This, of course, only goes some way to justifying my escalating reluctance to adhere to the discipline of 24 hour posting; the everyday chore of scratching an irascible itch.

I have been listening to a lot of James Brown and Curtis Mayfield of late, as previous posts suggest. I potter about rather aimlessly between gulping down 500mg gelatin capsules as inviting as horse tranquilizers, and mixing effervescing cocktails of Jaap's Health Salts and Berocca infusions (like something named after a character in the arcade fighting game, "Mortal Kombat") to alleviate the resulting heartburn and general sense of feeling a little under the weather. I enjoyed the respite of a minor operation on the NHS involving the removal of a Pilinoidal Sinus several years ago; that was a pain in the ass too, but not so lamentably close to the bone. Just this morning an attractive young female doctor prodded at me - with what I perceived to be quite understandable reluctance - as I sprawled, legs akimbo, on an examining table; a paper sheet arranged ridiculously over my genitals.
A more exhibitionistic personality may well have enjoyed the experience. As it was, I felt bad enough for the two of us.

I can think of nothing in my record collection which neatly wraps up the situation. If, indeed, there is something quietly lurking there, I don't wish to dwell on it. Or labour the point. This is as close to having my ankles up in stirrups as I ever want to go, quite frankly.

To quote an old chestnut: "For god's sake, nurse, I said prick his boil!"

Other than that, dear siblings, things are suitably swell.

LFO: LFO (LEEDS WAREHOUSE MIX) from "LFO b/w Track 4 Probe (The Cuba Edit)" 12" (W.A.R.P. Records) 1990 (UK)



Jaap's Health Salts & Berocca infusions sound like remedies prescribed by Dr. Benway. You said pain in the ass & genitals, are you sure the abscess isn't really a candiru?
(just thought I'd try cheering you up)

Löst Jimmy said...

So you are on the Berocca?
"You on a really good day" eh?

ib said...

The day a candiru pops its head out either orifice to say hello is the day I wake up screaming!

As for the Berocca; no signs yet of "living on the ceiling"...


Did you enjoy the Dr. Benway track?

Mr. Beer N. Hockey said...

There's no obnoxious bunchapunkers named PUS?

ib said...

Hadn't heard this previously, Nate. Very cinematic; so much so, in fact, it prompted me to dig out a selection from a soundtrack for today's post. Nice.

ib said...

PUS. There should be, Beer. There very possibly has.