so about a month ago i started having these headaches. they weren’t the migraines i’ve come to know over the last decade. no, this flavor of headache lacked the visual disturbances (see below) and came on like an electric shock, crowding my skull and pulsing to the rhythm of my heartbeat. (less romantic than it sounds.) having an insurance plan at the moment, i decided to get it checked out by a professional. the general doctor-man referred me to a “specialist”: a kindly neurologist who worked a few blocks away. i went the following week, and the first order of business was an electroencephalography, or an EEG as it’s commonly referenced in neurological-themed hip-hop lyrics. it looked something (exactly) like this:

the helper-lady administered this sweet-looking EEG cap and goo’d up my scalp with special EEG-sensitive goop. (imagine l.a. looks styling gel that can read your mind.) i had to sit still and think happy thoughts* for a few minutes while she scanned my dome. afterward, i met with the neurologist, who assured me – against all contrary evidence – that i had a “good brain.” based on my headache description and history of migraines, he posited that i was likely experiencing “exertion headaches.” (laughable based on my generally laissez faire existence, but i guess it’s just a name. like how you can get athlete’s foot without playing sports. or aids without ever helping anyone.) he said he was 90-percent sure they were exertion headaches, but there was an off chance it could be a brain aneurysm. (had he avoided hard numbers, i wouldn’t have worried. but 1 in 10 is far better odds than, say, joey logano taking the top prize at the lenox industrial tools 301 auto race. for christ’s sake.) so i scheduled an MRA scan** for the following week, which resulted in another silly getup:

i had to strip down to my skivvies this time and wear this classy evening gown (that i later pilfered) so as not to upset the scan results. i also had to remove anything metal, which thankfully excluded the titanium shank implanted in my left leg. (would have been messy.) so for the second time in a year, a lab technician eased me into the mechanical womb of “the coil” (to adopt the popular magnetic imaging vernacular). when the neurologist received the results the following week, he assured me there was no evidence of an aneurysm and that my cerebral arteries looked “good.” (this guy was a peerless wordsmith. a verbal turducken with walt whitman nestled inside winston churchill and stuffed into the lifeless oratorical carcass of barack obama.)

but short of relaxing there’s no real cure for an exertion headache. and since any more relaxation would lead financial ruin and/or a vegetative state, i decided to look to “alternative” medicine. so i found a conveniently-located acupuncturist and went the next day:

i don’t claim to know how it works, but dr. tan stuck needles in my hands, wrists, neck and shoulders and i left feeling relaxed, perforated and largely satisfied with the experience. and most importantly, i haven’t had a single exertion headache since. take that western medicine.

notes:
*the happy thoughts were my own invention, but i can only assume they curved my spike and wave discharges into the most attractive brain patterns ever inked on EEG paper.

**not a typo. an MRA is exactly like an MRI, but instead of looking at all the brainy materials, it examines the arteries. a series of hollow tubes that take your thoughts from the brain and out your mouth***.

***i’m guessing on this last part.

finally, i have a way of describing my ocular migraines to non-sufferers:

“according to professor samuel williams of harvard college, the Darkness was seen at least as far north as portland, maine, and extended southwards to new jersey. the Darkness was not witnessed in pennsylvania.”

more on new england’s Dark day of may 19, 1780.

this christmas — like many before it — was knee-deep in sweaters and pubescence. after presents and before dinner, i ducked out to walk the neighborhood; see who had moved, painted their house, planted a tree. i found no evidence for any, but took immediate notice of the sidewalk slab pictured above. i’d completely forgotten how, shortly after moving to town (1996?), my brother and i happened upon a wet cement square surrounded by a makeshift barrier of plastic tape and metal rods. naturally, i was immediately bent on defacing it. for some reason, ken wrote first. in the fading autumn light, he scrawled a respectable KB. when it was my turn, i took a more specific (and generally egocentric) approach: DJB.

but no, even with an extra initial, it wasn’t personal enough. if i was to take credit for this reckless act years down the line, it would have to be my full christian name. heady with excitement, nervousness or a combination of the two, i botched my first DOUG attempt, the O resembling a lowercase A and tightly crowding the U. i scrambled for a more suitable writing stone, sure nearby homeowners would soon catch us in the act — gray-handed, as it were. in the waning moments before fleeing the scene i carved a legible DOUG onto the extreme border and set off with my brother in a flurry of giggles self-satisfied grins. only weeks in the neighborhood, and we were already immortalized.

but seeing it a decade later, i’m left with the feeling that there must be some latent significant in that unsightly walkway. what does it say about my brother’s personality and of my own? a study of industrious efficiency versus haphazard trial-and-error? does it cross mature handiwork with infantile pretense? maybe it’s just a quality versus quantity issue. this was ‘96 after all; precious few years before my father would indelibly dub me a ‘bullshit artist.’

yes, looks like a thick fog is setting in on the thought-maker. no, experts don’t expect it to lift. [not in the foreseeable future]

yes, that’s meant as an explanation. no, that’s not the same thing as an excuse.

most recent glimmers:
- business talk last week in el barrio over two packages of oreos
- wednesday night on kenmare*

scary bits:
- was rolled into an electronic mausoleum at columbia fMRI research center
- a growing fondness for bright, shiny ingestibles
- writing a letter entitled “for the record” that includes the words “deranged,” “hurt” and more than one expletive

it warms my heart and chills my hands to note the former (far) outweigh the latter. thoughts that recur like skips on a record, then stick to my ribs like greasy breakfast. and if they’re extinguished — though i doubt they will — they could only be smothered with an ornate, victorian-style candle snuffer.

and for the record, i think about this so many more times than it seems. probably 300:1. generously, at that.

just as i’m beginning to lose faith in synchronicity, i find these photos from late february. like most of my februaries, this one felt like crème brûlée. or even better: an infant’s head. all hard spots and soft spots.

6th st, jersey city, nj

east 88th st, manhattan, ny

ocean avenue, sea bright, nj

i spent a sizable portion of last week in charleston, south carolina. i had a lovely time overall, but the hands-down highlight had to be the 25th Annual Lowcountry Oyster Festival. now, i lived in the american south for two years of my life, and i’m familiar with southerners’ penchant for getting ridiculously drunk in bucolic rural settings. this festival certainly fits this mold, but with an additional 65,000 pounds of oysters thrown into the mix. one can imagine the glorious results. in addition to plenty of beer and the musical stylings of local luminaries “Johnny Mac and the Booty Ranch,” there were some truly thrilling competitions. first were the oyster shucking races, where contestants speedily separated oyster shells using special knives and gloves, along with the front of their torsos in most cases.

following the shucking bananza was the true pièce de résistance: the oyster eating contest. this challenge consisted of a dozen entrants drinking as many cups filled with pre-shucked oysters as physically possible within a three-minute window. the ladies round was nothing short of riveting, with the victorious woman respectfully accepting her prize (cash and a pair of tickets to the local chippendale’s), before leaving the stage and heaving a stomach full of mollusk onto a nearby tree. the subsequent men’s round was equally enthralling, and when the cups were finally tallied, there was a tie between two equally-intense competitors. of course, the grand prize (tickets to see kid rock at the north charleston colosseum) couldn’t be shared, so it went to a sudden death two-minute oyster-off between the men. i captured a bit of the action below:

as you may have noticed, my camera memory tapped out before the conclusion, thus leaving most of you in utter suspense as to this year’s reigning champion. i’m sorry to report, it ended with a collective tie for dead last. because when grown men spend five minutes furiously chugging cups of uncooked oyster for sport, everybody loses. i expect to see you all there next year.

yesterday, i…

-had a long conversation with bob, a jehovah’s witness who approached me in the grocery store. throughout our encounter, he suggested that i must be a “bible-reader” and “about 31.” after an hour, i succeeded in exhausting his time. go figure.

-facilitated the purchase of a “jagerator” for my older brother. i have no regrets.

-asked my mother, “if they didn’t want it to be pronounced acid, why did they abbreviate it A-S-I-D?” before noting, “they could have just as simply used A-I-D-S instead and… oh, okay.”

- Chase Walker, business owner, hair club member.

might be true, but where did he get those numbers?

Hello, can I speak with Douglas Black?

yes.

Are you Douglas Black?

yes. and who might this be?

I’m representing the Bank of America. We want to know if you plan to pay your outstanding balance of $[ridiculous sum].

oh. well this is news to me. [half-truth]

You’ve had every opportunity to pay this balance. And I’d like to inform you that federal and state law requires you to pay this debt, or it will be transferred to a private collection agency. Now, do you intend to pay this debt?

well i didn’t even know there was a debt. [non-truth]

Okay, we consider this an official reminder. And your response will be used in further litigation. So I’m going to need a ‘Yes’ or a ‘No.’

neither. i don’t fully understand your claim, and–

Well, let me make it clear for you. If you don’t respond to the question, we’ll consider it a failure to comply.

…

is this what you thought you’d be doing with you life?

So as the record stands, you have no intention of paying freely.

seriously. when you were a child and you thought about your life, did you ever envision yourself sitting in some office building where you called people all day and intimidated them into giving money they don’t have to a fucking bank?

Okay. You’re choosing litigation.

you can do better than this.

…

[Suck on some dial tone]