Friday Night Trepanning
‘After burial, rural Papineau-region Quebecers purportedly drill a small hole down from ground level all the way down through the lid of the coffin, to let out the soul, if it wants out.’ (p. 244)
So. Here it is, Friday night, drugs are out of the question for obvious reasons but maybe you’re not feeling tightly-wrapped enough to head out into the world just yet. What’s a fella to do?
Blog, I guess.
It’s been a fairly good few days — no ravenous Cravings, dwindling physical symptoms, sleeping reasonably well without any sort of sleep aid for the first time in God knows how long (!). Then today out of nowhere I wake up all snuffly and sweaty and hot & cold, and probably the worst thing is there’s this strange agitated feeling in my head, kind of like the potential energy-jitters plaguing me a few nights ago, except this time concentrated all in the ol’ noggin. It’s like my physical brain has checked out and left a snarl of ionized helium in its place.
So many strange things happening with my body today. Going through withdrawal is sort of like going through puberty, but with fewer boners and more diarrhea.
But basically, what I’d like to do is drill a hole in my skull to vent the noxious jitter-gas, and then maybe pack the cavity with sand until my physical brain decides to return from the Hamptons or wherever. Which brings us to the hole-drilling burial quote above, which doesn’t refer trepanning per se, but describes a procedure that seems to aim for the same end-result. Wasn’t Himself buried in the Papineau region? And isn’t there all sorts of head/skull imagery associated with him? Hmmm.