An Old LJ Post: The Drug-Allergic Invalid

Apparently LiveJournal is going weird, and everyone’s diving off it and saving their posts. I don’t have a great deal from my old LJ days that I want to save, but this post, from 18-December-2006, needs to be preserved in the annals of, uh, whatever annals one preserves such things in.

Back from the doctor

The doctor says my symptoms are absolutely classic for having a bad drug reaction. She even showed me off to another doctor as having perfect symptoms. I was very proud.

I am the very model of a drug allergic invalid
With bright red rashes from my feet that make their way up to my head
I have no wish for food or wine or sexual amenities
I only wish to stop the swelling up of my extremities

My hands are swollen up so much I cannot hold a cigarette
How many days this will go is more than I can figure yet.
When I shuffle down the hall like a weak septuagenarian,
You’d say I was within a couple days of set for buryin’

You’d say he was within a couple days of set for buryin’
You’d say he was within a couple days of set for buryin’
You’d say he was within a couple days of set for buryburyin’

When you see I can do nothing except watch reruns of “Drag-a-net”
While choking down the steroids and the Benedryl and Tagamet
When it takes me seven minutes to get from my desk down to my bed
You’d see I was the model of a drug allergic invalid

When it takes him seven minutes to get from his desk down to his bed
You’d see he was the model of a drug allergic invalid

I began taking Sulfa on November 27. My glands became swollen on Dec. 7. On the 8th I started developing a rash. That’s when I stopped taking the sulfa. On the 12th, the fever hit, and lasted 2 days, peaking at 102. Around that time, my glands were no longer swollen, but I had some muscle ache. On the 15th, my hands and feet started swelling. Naturally, it was Friday, so I couldn’t go in to see the doctor until today. The swelling has gotten worse since then. I was prescribed steroids, and told to continue taking the Benedryl and Tagamet.

I search the internet for lists of symptoms and the latest memes
That deal with how to make my body stop producing histamines.
When I see my body is now just a single toxic whole
It makes me wish I’d never even heard “Sulfamethoxazole.”

When I cannot stand up without assistance or good leverage
When my lips are so puffed up that I cannot drink hot beverage
In short with the swelling and the rashes on my the skin so red
I am the very model of a drug allergic invalid.

In short with the swelling and the rashes on his skin so red
He is the very model of drug allergic invalid.

One of the Songs I was Raised On

There’s a song that is partially quoted in The Skill of Our Hands, the most recent book by Skyler White and me. It’s to the same tune as the haunting Irish ballad, “Johnny, I Hardly Knew Ye” (my favorite version is by Odetta), and its US Civil War update, “When Johnny Comes Marching Home.”

The version quoted in the book was one of songs we’d sing in the car when I was a kid, along with “Solidarity Forever,” and, “Avant di Popolo” and “Hold the Fort” and so on. When using the song in the book, I changed the word “Fools” to “Fooled” in the tag line because the former strikes me as slightly offensive. So, with that change, here are the full lyrics as I learned them, in case anyone is interested.

The battle is on that none can shirk
—-In field and street.
The lines are drawn twixt those who work
—-And those who eat.
We are the many, they are the few
But we’ve always done what they told us to
Now the time has come when we’ll not be fooled anymore.

How do they hold the upper hand?
—-The answer runs.
They’ve got the gold, they’ve got the land
—-They’ve got the guns.
Divide and conquer has been the trick
With the gift of gab and the hired dick
But the time has come when we’ll not be fooled anymore.

Mighty the engine, vast the field
—-From coast to coast.
The skill of our hands, the wealth they yield
—-Is all Earth’s boast.
For ours are the hands on those machines.
Just think for a minute of what that means.
And the time has come when we’ll not be fooled anymore.
The time has come when we’ll not be fooled anymore.

Old Man Trump

My friend Kit O’Connell pointed this out to me. The Youtube version is here.

Someone should probably update it. Alas, I don’t think we can count on Arlo doing it.

I suppose that Old Man Trump knows just how much racial hate
He stirred up in that bloodpot of human hearts
When he drawed that color line
Here at his Beach Haven family project

Beach Haven ain’t my home!
No, I just can’t pay this rent!
My money’s down the drain,
And my soul is badly bent!
Beach Haven is Trump’s Tower
Where no black folks come to roam,
No, no, Old Man Trump!
Old Beach Haven ain’t my home!

I’m calling out my welcome to you and your man both
Welcoming you here to Beach Haven
To love in any way you please and to have some kind of a decent place
To have your kids raised up in.

New Song with Apologies to Warren Zevon

(The original can be found here.)

He found a piece of lint on the end of the broom
Excitable cat they all said
And he chased it and he swatted it all over the room
Excitable cat they all said
Well he’s just an excitable cat.

He ate all his catnip, then asked for more.
Excitable cat they all said
And knocked all my glassware onto the floor
Excitable cat they all said
Well he’s just an excitable cat.

He snuck into the room just when I went to bed
Excitable cat they all said
And he did a paso doble on top of my head
Excitable cat they all said
Well he’s just an excitable cat.

He stared at the door like he was stalking a mouse
Excitable cat they all said
When I opened it he chased the dog out of the house
Excitable cat they all said
Well he’s just an excitable cat.

Of Potential Interest to Folk Music Scholars

I happened to stumble across the following document in the course of my research into the influence of Henry VI on the linguistics of personal correspondence. I at once recognized its importance to those who study the traditional music of the British Isles, and so, after translation by Teresa Nielsen Hayden, I hasten to share it.

Honored Sir: We have fulfilled your commission to the best of our abilities, as witness the accompanying parcel. I must confess, however, that we are not entirely satisfied with the result. I beg to submit that the problem lies, not in the quality of our work, but in the instrument itself. To speak to the particulars.

Primus: You should be aware that the resonant qualities of breastbone are significantly inferior to the timbre, sustain, and richness of tone that are characteristic of spruce, walnut, cherry, &c.

Secundus: Perhaps the original luthier naively failed to realize that harps customarily use strings of varying thickness? The strings supplied, while quite an attractive color, are of identical gauge, which means they require drastically different degrees of tension to produce notes covering the desired range. This is especially troublesome in light of the next problem.

Tertius: Fingerbones are far too brittle & irregular to make effective tuning pegs. We have strengthened the bones with several coats of resin & some Sugru(tm), but precise tuning is not to be had from them.

In sum, while the instrument should be playable, I fear it will have a very limited repertoire. Still, we have done our best, & can only hope that you are satisfied. We are returning the instrument in a wood & leathern case, at no additional cost to you, in hopes that the harp will be less temperamental if it is protected from the dreadful wind & the rain.

Respectfully,

Thomas Corby

Messrs Corby & Corby, Luthiers