The birthright of the kidney stone

My first kidney stone, at the tender age of 35, at midday on Wednesday, April 18, delivered me two things in aplenty: Pain - a whole lot of it - and contemplation, after the fact.

The pain part is pretty obvious. The stone decided to make its presence known when I was about 5 minutes away from my bus stop just off Main and Southeast Marine Drive, and I felt a nice little tinge of pain in my left side, just above the hip. Thought it was just a cramp, and walking it off would do some good.

But no. It kicked in a bit more, and peaked in a big way as soon as I arrived at work. There I was in my full glory, on my knees, hunched over the toilet, biting my knuckles to somehow ease the pain, sweating buckets and wanting to vomit, unsuccessfully. There I was for about 20 minutes until I got a ride to ER from my good co-worker.

Vonnegut's been ice-nined

This just in: Kurt Vonnegut died at the paltry age of 84. Here's a quote from him from a couple years back: "When Hemingway killed himself he put a period at the end of his life; old age is more like a semicolon."

For Vonnegut, of course, it'll always be a semicolon. The legacy he'll be leaving behind is definitely not a period at the end of his life.

Hell of a writer, he. Guess Kilgore Trout is truly free, now.

The beginning

As of this evening, 8:51 p.m., on April 3, 2007, I have lost my virginity. My blog virginity, that is.

I can no longer call myself a blog virgin. This also means I can no longer spit at people who have blogs just for the purpose of having something to say to the hungry multitude of people in this world who don't even know the blog even exists.

It also means I have a voice.