drills, neglect and Ceauşescu

i just had my teeth drilled by a Romanian dentist, bringing the wheel of karma round full circle on my long history of neglect. but this is beside the point.

the point is that in her enthusiasm, my dentist broke out some bizarre electrified implement and told me that - in order to fill the monumental cavity extending rootward in my lower right molar - she needed to cut my gums.

"that's a saw?"

"yes."

"what's the pad for?"

"grounding."

"will any stitches be involved?"

"no."

i agreed, closed my eyes, and deepened my breathing. the strange smell of plasma filled the room as the as the meditation took hold, and i felt the electricity referring across my gums and into my tongue, causing a slight twitch that was barely perceivable underneath the second shot of Novocaine.

i can only assume from the amount of gauze used that there was a lot of blood, and at some point everything began spinning counter-clockwise. i opened my eyes to regain my bearings and saw a mimeographed Soviet bloc diploma. i wondered if i had fallen into the morphined dreamscape of Burroughs' Interzone and closed my eyes once more.

[lapse]

"i have to teach at 4."

"that's fine."

"will i sound like the village drunkard?"

"maybe...

but it won't be because of me."

i thought to myself: long live the spirit of '89.