On May 4, 1970, on the Kent State University campus, four students died and nine others were wounded (one of whom was permanently paralyzed) when 28 National Guard troops fired 67 rounds at a crowd of unarmed protesters and student observers. In the span of roughly 13 seconds, a protest against expansion into Cambodia of the Vietnam war had turned into a massacre. The Guard’s engagement with the students that fateful day came after several days of student protests, some of which had involved significant vandalism and had become violent. Post-event investigations, though, revealed no precipitating incident; protesters’ behaviors had not changed—the Guardsmen simply turned toward them and fired. The Kent State Massacre, as it became known, triggered examinations and recriminations; killing unarmed student protesters was deemed “unnecessary, unwarranted, and inexcusable” by the President’s Commission on Campus Unrest. Fifty-five years later, on May 4, 2025, would a massacre of undocumented immigrants protesting their deportation be deemed “unnecessary, unwarranted, and inexcusable?” Would an investigation of the slaughter even be permitted?
+++
Getting five one-stab, one-dot tattoos on my torso yesterday (to serve as reference points for my upcoming series of radiation sessions) may have dissuaded me from giving serious thought to getting a decorative tattoo, unless I could have it done while I am under sedation. My God, those five “pin-pricks” felt like I was being stabbed with a rough-surfaced ice pick drenched in alcohol! If the discomfort of the application of those tiny tattoos was even remotely similar to how application of a decorative tattoo would feel, I think I’ll opt to chew on light-bulbs, instead.
+++
When I woke this morning with a completely clogged nasal passage, I blew my nose in an attempt to breathe. Though blowing my nose cleared the nasal passage, it triggered an extraordinarily long-lasting gusher of a nosebleed. Finally, nearly three hours later, my nasal passage is completely clogged again—this time with dried blood. The trash cans in the primary bathroom and the kitchen both are filled to overflowing with blood-soaked paper…tissues, napkins, paper towels…I used anything I could to absorb the flow. If I could stem the flow of my nasal drip—eliminating the need to blow my nose—I think the nosebleed might permanently heal on its own. Otherwise, I’ll have to periodically sit upright, lean forward, and pinch my nose just below the bridge for 15 minutes. While trying my best to prevent the area around me from looking like it was visited by a horrible, brutal, blood-thirsty monster.
+++
I have grown increasingly dissatisfied with the human species. While never completely enamored with my fellow homo sapiens, my appreciation for the vast majority of them has diminished more than I once thought possible. This reduction in gratitude for like creatures applies, as well, to myself. If I had the ability to remake myself into any creature I wanted, I think I might become an octopus. In fact, I may have been an octopus all along, just disguised to look and act like an imperfect replica of a human being. Second choice, perhaps: redwood tree.
