I'd like a new ear please.
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Most likely the left ear, if available.
Well, actually, I'd like a new left ear canal and ear drum.
(sounds like I'd like a drum and bugle corps, that'd be nice, too)
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For over a week, tiptoeing like kitten feet in the mist on a fog-shrouded island in the sea, where seagulls are squealing incessantly and elephant seals are bark, bark, barking deeply and growling to the heavens so as to keep their harems safe from interlopers.
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I don't know why that image came to mind.
It could be the stuffed up ear.
Can't hear well and my balance is off.
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My head tips to the left,
as if it is a heavy anvil about to loose it's balance after being placed precariously over the edge of a work table which sits securely on a level cement floor in a neat, clean, swept machine shop. An anvil about to go over, dashing dangerously to the floor with a horrible sound.
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Now I tire of writing.
The ear throbs.
All sound fades.
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Pressure, like a heavy weight,
mayhaps a cold, soggy, heavy leather coat, wrung out and dripping on a fireplace fender, mushed out of shape by forces of wind, sleet and icy rain, forcing the traveler; he who has erred in life choices.. He, like the prodigal son gone from home, but now home, trekking miles from the shore, miles leading him ever closer to the fate he knows he must face; his running days are past. He comes to rectify his sins, to bring hope back to the lonely child, abandoned at birth. The traveler bows his wet head and wishes his ear didn't ache.
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Perhaps I'm reading too many gothic novels,
but t.v. is sooooo boring.
I'm going to bed.
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Here's a cute little chart.
Don't read it,
the pleasure comes in it's lovely design.
Kudos to the artist.
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