Wednesday, 24 February 2010


So this must be mentioned - the "interesting" times (in the Pratchett sense, of course:) of sweating my teeth out through my popliteal fossa and grinding my bloodshot eyes on the sandpaper pages of Oxford Handbook of Clinical Medicine are, for the time being, over. The Exam for which I've been revising for the last two months (chained to my radiator, feeding on what the cats brought in) took place. I showed up on time, and... it sort of went downhill from there. Still, the deed is done.
I should be relieved, shouldn't I? But after such an enormous adrenaline ride, the waves and tides of panic and elation, I just felt like... a used condom... left behind in a side alley... in a puddle of vomit.

Danae (white version), by Auguste Rodin

I am slowly recovering. Just sitting still and letting music wash over me, waiting for a sprout of emotion to break through the barren scorched ground of my psyche.


  1. A used condom in a puddle of vomit suggests that someone has made some very, very poor dietary choices.

    Thumbs up on the Rodin, though. Danae is one of my favourites.

    The way she is emerging from the stone... or perhaps subsiding into it?

    I also really like Klimt and Schiele's takes on the myth of Danae.

  2. Very pooor choices indeed!
    I had a conversation this weekend, over a plate of mussels (as one does;P) about feeding. And how much more important it is to figure out what it is that one wants and needs and supply it (be it the kinds of food or music or reading) rather than adhere to some projected norm. Simple but refreshing.
    And in that sense your comment is... very to the point!:) I haven't fed my soul for a while, it feels like:)

    I didn't know that! I like it so! It's true, you can't really make out whether she's curling up into it or preparing to blossom. Kind of like this sorry excuse for a spring this year:) I'm living with exasperation waiting for the trees to bloom and blossom. Any day, any day now...