Meat Mess
Such a wonderful mess we are.
My eyes hurt; specifically my left eye hurts if I peer too far in any one direction. Poking my eyes also results in an unusually painful pressure. I’m reading my dad’s copy of Man and Nature; Or, Physical Geography as Modified by Human Action, written by George Perkins Marsh and originally published in 1864. He introduces his book as a guide to the casual observer of nature. Buried in the footnotes is a verse I have trouble crediting.
In the material eye, you think, sigh lodgeth!
The eye is but an organ. Seeing streameth
From the soul’s inmost depths. The fine perceptive
Nerve springeth from the brain’s mysterious workshop.
I like it, but it brings me no mending.
Just next door to my eyes live the sisters temple. It seems more and more often I’ve been having very brief and sharp headaches, the pain centered on my temples. Lasting just long enough for me to bring my fingers up to my forehead, and then gone before I’m able to assign a likely cause. Such vagrant pains perplex me.
Abbey cut off the majority of my hair. In her garbage can lay at least three handfuls of me. Hair being made almost entirely out of protein, my body had assembled them out of the protein found in my food. The top quarter inch of those hairs wasn’t vegetarian.
We’re such messy machines, in such a messy intertwined system of machines, on such a messy spinning planet.
IN ADDENDUM: intermess.