Sunday, July 11, 2010
Has Anyone Seen My Balls?
Poor Quinn! For every young male dog there comes a time when manhood is knocking on the door. As responsible pet owners, Pam and I faithfully marched our young corgi stud to the vet for a traditional snip. But, ah!...this was no ordinary neutering. [Segway into longer story.]
The events of the past week have left me to ponder the recent turn in my life and wonder what the hell is happening to me as I grow older. Maybe its empathy with my young canine friend but the burning question on my mind is: What happened to my balls?
When I was younger, I was full of piss and vinegar–as they say–and now I can only reminisce about what it felt like to pound someone in the mouth if they got in my way. I’ve become adept at taking shit and I don’t like it one bit. While on the outside I am calm and professional, on the inside I am seething. Now I can only put these emotions into my art…a good place for it, mind you…but it is a terrible strain to put these feelings on hold until I can get in to the studio. Anyway, I have a lot to work with these days…a lot to get frustrated about, but I do miss the old days. For now, I just put in the ear pods, play something fast and hard, and hope I can get it all out before it eats a hole in me. Screw all this foolishness around me.
Back to my puppy…enough of my bitching and self-pity. How can I feel sorry for myself when my little buddy just got his nuts cut off. I was proud of the resistance he put up though…he was not going to give up his manhood without a fight. I’m not sure who was more surprised, the vet or us, but the little bugger hid his balls. This created an invested search (and some extra financial cost) but his balls were located in his abdomen and summarily snipped. Poor guy!
Now our little Quinn is suffering the consequences of his little adventure with a really bad haircut, an itchy wound, and “the cone of shame.” I, on the other hand, am left to ponder what would happen if I actually located my own balls and tried to take my life back. I wonder how that would be? I wonder how my life would be different if I were to regain my old glory and stood up for myself? I wonder if I have any fight left in me? Maybe I, too, deserve to wear the cone of shame? More to come.