Wednesday, April 20, 2016

Hippo Gerosto Niparos!

“In his great book Enthusiasm, Father Ronald Knox gives us two examples of ‘speaking with tongues’: ‘Hippo gerosto niparos boorasti farini O fastor sungor boorrinos epoongos menati,’ and ‘Hey amei Hassan alla do hoc alors louvre has heo massan amor ho ti prov hir aso me.’ Of these, he says ‘The philology of another world does not abide our question, but if we are to judge these results merely human standards, we must admit that a child prattles no less convincingly.’”
-       W. H. Auden, A Certain World

As I have become a hermit pending my resurrection later this summer following another life change or two, I no longer have conversations in my head about people in the Actual World who cross my path. My path these days is through the tall grass of my own health problems and visits to medical practitioners differing from each other only in the number of times they ask me why I am here today. They always want to see you again in 3 months so they can ask you again. Why.

Instead, today I managed today to file a ton of my medical and health insurance records, receipts and correspondence into some coherent form that may permit at least me to know what the hell is going on. I cleaned out the medical and insurance files in TSG's large loose leaf book file, thus killing two birds with one set of labeled tabs. My inner bureaucrat is feeling content now that the book has been repurposed to contain records of somebody still inhabiting the Actual World. And plus, the cat now has another sunny spot formerly occupied by an unstable stack of filing to be done.

I have found that I can tolerate about 60 minutes of somebody else’s company before I get this itching beneath my skin that threatens either to erupt into a panic attack or manifest in some form of inappropriate behavior usually involving vulgar language. Since saying “Holy Shit” before walking out on the pharmacy clerk at Rite Aidless who denied me my blood thinner for the fourth time, I have not used profanity in public. Twenty days fuck-free, bitches. Out loud in public, anyway. I have avoided any occasion that might lead to profane outbursts and/or that might take more than one hour of social intercourse with other people.

By merely human standards, I do not prattle - convincingly or not - these days. I tried to this past weekend when I had less than 2 oz. of honey juniper mead at 12% ABV to cheer me and myself up. Hilarity and atrial fibrillation ensued.  It took me more than 24 hours to convert to normal sinus rhythm.  I am adjusting my medications accordingly and will resume prattling when some sort of equilibrium is reached and the pointless appointments are done.

Meanwhile, hippo gerosto niparos, everybody!