Going to Pieces or Mykel's April 2023 Blog
You’re STILL WrongorMykel's April 2023 Blog/Column Going To Pieces
by Mykel Board
Sometimes
being a friend means mastering the art of timing. There is a time for
silence. A time to let go and allow people to hurl themselves into
their own destiny. And a time to prepare to pick up the pieces when
it's all over. –
Octavia E. Butler
It
is better we disintegrate in peace and not in pieces.
–Nnamdi
Azikiwe
Thaw
with
her gentle persuasion is more powerful than Thor
with
his hammer. The one melts, the other breaks into pieces.
–
Henry David Thoreau
As
you stay on in a given place, things and people go to pieces round
you; they rot and start to stink for your own special benefit.
–Louis-Ferdinand
Celine
Ah,
April, despite its showers, it brings winter’s thaw. People say
it’s the rainy month. Really, it’s change. I love April. Lowing
like a cow, it moos itself into your consciousness. Forget the
winter. Only vague memories of the chill remain. Other cold thoughts
disappear. Let’s see what my thoughts are… Still, April might not
be the month for me.
“I
wouldn’t call it pain,” says, Dr. Provet, the urologist, “I’d
call it discomfort.”
I
kneel on the examining table, naked from the waist down. Next to me,
on a metal table are the tools of the trade: A hypodermic with a
needle as long as my thigh, what looks like a drill topped with a
thin test tube, several empty sample jars, rubber gloves, what seems
like a half-deflated balloon at the end of a drinking straw.
“Take
a deep breath,” says Dr. Provet. “First we’ll start with the
anesthetic. You’ll feel a little pinch when it goes in.”
It
occurs to me that I’ve heard the little
pinch
spiel before… when the dentist gives me an injection before the
drilling starts…
always before the anesthesia.
Maybe it’s part of the instructions on the box. Before
injecting this material-- no matter which end--, please tell the
patient “You’ll feel a little pinch.”
The
doctor picks up the syringe with the huge needle. I feel a poke,
then, pressure against my sphincter… an entrance… and insertion…
like I imagine I’d feel being butt-fucked by a chihuahua. Then, the
stab! Yes, the stab... nothing like a pinch, but like being stabbed
in the prostate with a needle. Like? Not like… but actually being
stabbed in the prostate with a needle. Then the withdrawal.
“We’ll
give it a few seconds to numb you,” says the doctor.
For
once in my life, I can’t think of a snappy comeback.
“Now
comes the camera,” says the doc, picking up the balloon-like
object. You might feel a little full.
“Yeah,
like I’ve never done anal,” I don’t say to him. “Like I’ve
never had to hold back explosive diarrhea. I have no idea what it’s
like to feel a little full back… back… back.” I hold my breath
as the balloon expands in my rectum.
In
somewhere between 20 seconds and 20 minutes the balloon deflates and
withdraws. The doc says. “Now, we’ll take the samples. It’ll
feel like a stapler inside, but it won’t hurt.”
Oh
sure, I think, feels like a stapler. Everybody’s had a stapler
inserted into their asshole and felt the KER-CHANG as it deposits its
U-shaped load. Of course, I know the feeling.
BA-TOOM!
BA-TOOM! BA-TOOM!
BA-TOOM! BA-TOOM! BA-TOOM!
BA-TOOM! BA-TOOM!
Ah,
I get it… then the withdrawal.
“Okay,
that’s it,” says the doc. “Make sure you read the instructions
so you know what to expect.
Three
days of blood in the urine. Three days of prostate pain. Three weeks
of blood in the semen.
FLASH
AHEAD THREE WEEKS: Xvideos dot com… those femmy boy/butch girl
videos… oh yeah… oh yeah… oh yeah. What the fuck???
You
haven’t lived until you cum blood. Until you go about your business
and wipe maroon on your bedside toilet paper. It’s a horror movie…
porno holocaust... there between your own legs… Holy shit…
cumming blood, feels the same, but sure as scarlet stain… doesn’t
look the same.
FLASH
AHEAD ANOTHER WEEK: My life is almost back to normal, though I’m
still cumming blood. I can go to the gym, the post office, the Asian
spice store.
Walking
back from the post office… through SOHO. I take the cobblestone
streets. The sidewalk is filled with old stairs, and high loading
docks. As is my custom, I climb up and over them all. Making physical
progress, and convincing myself I’m getting exercise at the same
time.
Yeoh!
What the fuck was that? I stubbed my little toe on some kind of pipe.
One of those twin head water pipes that come out of the sidewalk at
odd places... near old factories, now turned into fashion emporiums.
This is serious. I can barely stand on that foot. I feel
what seems like blood oozing into my sock. Slowly, I limp home,
gritting my teeth against the pain. Somehow I make it to the front
door. I insert my key into the door. For a second, I think of the
insertions during my biopsy. The pain right now is too great to hold
that thought.
Up
the elevator, into my apartment, sitting on the couch, I rip off my
sneaker to see my once-white sock is now dripping red. I peel off the
sock and look at the blood puddled along the right side of my foot. I
put a bunch of toilet paper in my mouth to stifle a scream. (What
single male doesn’t keep a roll of toilet paper by the bed?)
There’s
something small and hard inside the sock. I shake it and falling out
of it, along with a shitload of blood, is my little toe. I don’t
know what to make of it. It’s not like I’ll miss my little toe,
what do I use it for anyway. But it is disconcerting… like a bloody
orgasm.
FLASH
AHEAD ANOTHER WEEK: It should be about time for Xvideos to update
Vintage School Students list. And I hope it’ll be time for
me to stop cumming blood.
Oh
yeah, that’s what I like. 1970s, young like I was. There’s the
teacher, giving the sex education lesson... calling on the student
trouble makers to stand in front of the class and be models for the
lesson.
Oooo,
there’s the group I like… a racially mixed… all too rare in 70s
porn. First lesson: foreplay. Then comes: oral. Then missionary,
yes! Yes! Then anal… then… what the fuck?
I
stroke myself and then suddenly can’t stroke any more. It’s as if
my hand is moving in air. My hand IS moving in air. It holds a penis,
but the penis isn’t attached anywhere. There’s a bloody puddle
between my legs and a now bloodless penis lies limp in my right fist.
Terrified,
I throw it to the floor. It makes a soft squishing sound as it lands.
In
the days that follow… one by one… parts of myself disconnect
themselves. It’s as if my body was rejecting a transplant… but in
this case it’s NOT a transplant. My body is rejecting ME.
I
sit at the keyboard, trying to write this blog… one by one my
fingers detach themselves, leaving bloody stumps on my hands…. Like
a yakuza gangster who’s run out of repentance.
Things
don’t stop there.
As
I type this now, my head… the only part left… holds a pencil in
its mouth. Letter by letter I press the eraser to the keys and type
these words. My chin resting on a table directly in front of my
computer.
Body
parts litter my apartment: a kneecap here, an elbow there. My penis
lies… tinier than ever… on the floor next to a fat brown internal
organ I don’t even recognize. Key by key, I write what must be
written. What’s left of a life that can’t last very long. What’s
left of me, and what’s...
See
you in hell.
Mykel
Board
ENDNOTES:
[You can contact me on facebook
or
by email at mykelboard@gmail.com.
Through the post office: send those... er... private DVDs..or music
or zines... or anything else (legal only!) to: Mykel Board, POB 137,
New York, NY 10012-0003. If you like my writing, you can be notified
when anything new is available. Send
me an email with
SUBSCRIBE in the subject line. Back blogs and columns are at
https://mykelsblog.blogspot.com]
→
What’s
the world coming to dept:
In the same week, I saw both a cop and a doctor with a man-bun.
Doesn’t
the doctor have to earn the confidence of his patients? Don’t
these people
have to testify in court? Doesn’t
the cop play the bad guy in one of those good-guy bad-guy
interrogations? If you were a serial killer, would you take him
seriously?
→
Who
are the censors dept?
What’s
most important in the government of a free society? Of course, the
freedom to discuss and debate is most important most everywhere. Some
Democrats
may think the freedom to cut the testicles off little boys who play
with dolls is important… but free discussion? Check this out from
Stop
Republicans…
a Democrat front group:
→ Flogging
the corpse of GG dept: The great bandleader/comic book artist Scott
Corkern has finished his GG Allin Comic book. I’ve contributed to
it, as have
a host of others. BUT, Scott is the key… the
genius.
It’s expensive (list price around $30). I’ve got a few that’ll
go for $20 each. But you have to get to me quick to get one. If
you’re interested send me email: god@mykelboard.com
with
GG COMIC in the subject line. The first five emails will get one
cheap(er).
See
you in hell, redux,
MB
THE
NATION AGAIN
I’m
a long-time subscriber to the The
Nation.
It’s the only lefty publication that I find myself not only
agreeing with, but also getting inspiration from. Strangely,
when I post this stuff on facebook, no one looks at it. My “friends”
would just rather call me a “Trumpist” or a “Republican” for
all the times I don’t follow the party line. If it’s printed in
THE NATION, it should give me street cred, right? Yeah right.
There
is
a
great article
by
the new editor, about so-called “Democratic Unity.” It blasts the
centrists for taking over, and the wimps on the left for letting them
show off “their unity muscle.” Who wants unity if it’s for a
bad cause.
The
same issue has
a
piece
by
Sasha Abramsky about Universal Basic Income. A plan where everyone
gets some money (not enough, I’d say) just for living. The rich pay
to put a floor under the poor. Yes! Yes! Yes!
LINK
TRADE DEPARTMENT:
I
did a nice interview with The Aither zine. Interesting questions,
complete, and questions I’ve never been asked before. You can read
it here.
It’s a good one.
I
read that the search engines like lots of links... and it's also nice
to support my friends and enemies in their blogs. So facebook
me or email
me
if
you have a blog, webpage or something else to connect to. I add you.
You add me.
Here's
a start:
Jason
Rodgers sent me his book Invisible
Generation…
free! And I lost it. Jason, a long-time partner of Suzy Poe, has been
bugging me to review it… and I can’t. So the best I can do is
promote it. I have a lot of respect for Jason… he is a libertarian
(in the best sense of the word), and a super-smart guy. When/if I
find the book, I’ll give you some more details.
Video
of the week: My long-time friend Sid Yiddish appears on a YouTube
DatingGame-like
video.
Guess who wins the bachlorette!
Here’s
Richard Goldberg:
goldberg.wordpress.com
Poetry
and humor fans will like Justin Martin in The
Latency
And
my friend Mike R has a nice site with recipe hits from the past! (He
cooked for me once... great stuff.) Check out Yesterday's
Recipes.
And
here's one by a member of ANTI-SEEN... a tour
diary of
sorts.
Andy
Shelton has an interesting blog here.
Savage
Hippie is a guy who has been YouTubing
for a long time. Our opinions largely overlap... but he complains
that I'm a Communist. I'm not! I'm a communist.
Chris
Stecher publishes a zine called PRECIS.
You can see the back issue links there... and he promises a new issue
soon.
George
Fertakis has a very nice graphics-heavy blog... with music and books
featured prominently. If there’s no link here (I can’t find it
temporarily), then Google… er… Duckduckgo him for information.
And
my long-term pal Sid Yiddish contributes with his Mishegas
Master Blog.
And
connect to TRUST Zine, a long-running German punk zine… that STILL
PRINTS!!! Yeah, they have a website too… of course! It’s here.
Here
are a couple video links.
This
from Jon Cox https://squelchchamber1.bandcamp.com/album/down-so-low
And
this
one from
my very long-time friend Roger Armstrong.
Jim
Testa moved his long running zine, Jersey Beat, to the blogosphere
awhile back. You can read it here.
Jim also recommended a kind of unique album… in a style you don’t
see to much of these days… or any days. Neo-Hassidic Rock Opera.
You can stream the album here.
Kyle
Nonneman is in prison in Portland. At least he can’t be kidnapped
by the secret police… I think. I post his
blog
for him, he can’t do it from the klink. Lots of stuff about noise
metal… and some very weird politics that will either fascinate or
repulse you… or both.
My
long time pal, Jim Hayes rightfully complained about my leaving out
his blog. He’s a great writer, so it was a tragic omission. Here
it is.
Oh
yeah, then there’s me.
I have a blog of stuff I’ve written mostly from last century. You
might enjoy it. Then again, you might not. It’s here.
Let
me know if you have a blog… or a print zine… or a YouTube and
want to be added to the list. You show me yours… you’ve already
seen mine. god@mykelboard.com
Sometimes
being a friend means mastering the art of timing. There is a time for
silence. A time to let go and allow people to hurl themselves into
their own destiny. And a time to prepare to pick up the pieces when
it's all over. –
Octavia E. Butler
It
is better we disintegrate in peace and not in pieces.
–Nnamdi
Azikiwe
Thaw with her gentle persuasion is more powerful than Thor with his hammer. The one melts, the other breaks into pieces.
– Henry David Thoreau
As you stay on in a given place, things and people go to pieces round you; they rot and start to stink for your own special benefit. –Louis-Ferdinand Celine
Ah, April, despite its showers, it brings winter’s thaw. People say it’s the rainy month. Really, it’s change. I love April. Lowing like a cow, it moos itself into your consciousness. Forget the winter. Only vague memories of the chill remain. Other cold thoughts disappear. Let’s see what my thoughts are… Still, April might not be the month for me.
“I wouldn’t call it pain,” says, Dr. Provet, the urologist, “I’d call it discomfort.”
I kneel on the examining table, naked from the waist down. Next to me, on a metal table are the tools of the trade: A hypodermic with a needle as long as my thigh, what looks like a drill topped with a thin test tube, several empty sample jars, rubber gloves, what seems like a half-deflated balloon at the end of a drinking straw.
“Take a deep breath,” says Dr. Provet. “First we’ll start with the anesthetic. You’ll feel a little pinch when it goes in.”
It occurs to me that I’ve heard the little pinch spiel before… when the dentist gives me an injection before the drilling starts… always before the anesthesia. Maybe it’s part of the instructions on the box. Before injecting this material-- no matter which end--, please tell the patient “You’ll feel a little pinch.”
The doctor picks up the syringe with the huge needle. I feel a poke, then, pressure against my sphincter… an entrance… and insertion… like I imagine I’d feel being butt-fucked by a chihuahua. Then, the stab! Yes, the stab... nothing like a pinch, but like being stabbed in the prostate with a needle. Like? Not like… but actually being stabbed in the prostate with a needle. Then the withdrawal.
“We’ll give it a few seconds to numb you,” says the doctor.
For once in my life, I can’t think of a snappy comeback.
“Now comes the camera,” says the doc, picking up the balloon-like object. You might feel a little full.
“Yeah, like I’ve never done anal,” I don’t say to him. “Like I’ve never had to hold back explosive diarrhea. I have no idea what it’s like to feel a little full back… back… back.” I hold my breath as the balloon expands in my rectum.
In somewhere between 20 seconds and 20 minutes the balloon deflates and withdraws. The doc says. “Now, we’ll take the samples. It’ll feel like a stapler inside, but it won’t hurt.”
Oh sure, I think, feels like a stapler. Everybody’s had a stapler inserted into their asshole and felt the KER-CHANG as it deposits its U-shaped load. Of course, I know the feeling.
BA-TOOM!
BA-TOOM! BA-TOOM!
BA-TOOM! BA-TOOM! BA-TOOM!
BA-TOOM! BA-TOOM!
Ah, I get it… then the withdrawal.
“Okay, that’s it,” says the doc. “Make sure you read the instructions so you know what to expect.
Three days of blood in the urine. Three days of prostate pain. Three weeks of blood in the semen.
FLASH AHEAD THREE WEEKS: Xvideos dot com… those femmy boy/butch girl videos… oh yeah… oh yeah… oh yeah. What the fuck???
You haven’t lived until you cum blood. Until you go about your business and wipe maroon on your bedside toilet paper. It’s a horror movie… porno holocaust... there between your own legs… Holy shit… cumming blood, feels the same, but sure as scarlet stain… doesn’t look the same.
FLASH AHEAD ANOTHER WEEK: My life is almost back to normal, though I’m still cumming blood. I can go to the gym, the post office, the Asian spice store.
Walking back from the post office… through SOHO. I take the cobblestone streets. The sidewalk is filled with old stairs, and high loading docks. As is my custom, I climb up and over them all. Making physical progress, and convincing myself I’m getting exercise at the same time.
Yeoh! What the fuck was that? I stubbed my little toe on some kind of pipe. One of those twin head water pipes that come out of the sidewalk at odd places... near old factories, now turned into fashion emporiums.
This is serious. I can barely stand on that foot. I feel what seems like blood oozing into my sock. Slowly, I limp home, gritting my teeth against the pain. Somehow I make it to the front door. I insert my key into the door. For a second, I think of the insertions during my biopsy. The pain right now is too great to hold that thought.
Up the elevator, into my apartment, sitting on the couch, I rip off my sneaker to see my once-white sock is now dripping red. I peel off the sock and look at the blood puddled along the right side of my foot. I put a bunch of toilet paper in my mouth to stifle a scream. (What single male doesn’t keep a roll of toilet paper by the bed?)
There’s something small and hard inside the sock. I shake it and falling out of it, along with a shitload of blood, is my little toe. I don’t know what to make of it. It’s not like I’ll miss my little toe, what do I use it for anyway. But it is disconcerting… like a bloody orgasm.
FLASH AHEAD ANOTHER WEEK: It should be about time for Xvideos to update Vintage School Students list. And I hope it’ll be time for me to stop cumming blood.
Oh yeah, that’s what I like. 1970s, young like I was. There’s the teacher, giving the sex education lesson... calling on the student trouble makers to stand in front of the class and be models for the lesson.
Oooo, there’s the group I like… a racially mixed… all too rare in 70s porn. First lesson: foreplay. Then comes: oral. Then missionary, yes! Yes! Then anal… then… what the fuck?
I stroke myself and then suddenly can’t stroke any more. It’s as if my hand is moving in air. My hand IS moving in air. It holds a penis, but the penis isn’t attached anywhere. There’s a bloody puddle between my legs and a now bloodless penis lies limp in my right fist.
Terrified, I throw it to the floor. It makes a soft squishing sound as it lands.
In the days that follow… one by one… parts of myself disconnect themselves. It’s as if my body was rejecting a transplant… but in this case it’s NOT a transplant. My body is rejecting ME.
I sit at the keyboard, trying to write this blog… one by one my fingers detach themselves, leaving bloody stumps on my hands…. Like a yakuza gangster who’s run out of repentance.
Things don’t stop there.
As I type this now, my head… the only part left… holds a pencil in its mouth. Letter by letter I press the eraser to the keys and type these words. My chin resting on a table directly in front of my computer.
Body parts litter my apartment: a kneecap here, an elbow there. My penis lies… tinier than ever… on the floor next to a fat brown internal organ I don’t even recognize. Key by key, I write what must be written. What’s left of a life that can’t last very long. What’s left of me, and what’s...
See you in hell.
Mykel Board
ENDNOTES: [You can contact me on facebook or by email at mykelboard@gmail.com. Through the post office: send those... er... private DVDs..or music or zines... or anything else (legal only!) to: Mykel Board, POB 137, New York, NY 10012-0003. If you like my writing, you can be notified when anything new is available. Send me an email with SUBSCRIBE in the subject line. Back blogs and columns are at https://mykelsblog.blogspot.com]
→ What’s the world coming to dept: In the same week, I saw both a cop and a doctor with a man-bun. Doesn’t the doctor have to earn the confidence of his patients? Don’t these people have to testify in court? Doesn’t the cop play the bad guy in one of those good-guy bad-guy interrogations? If you were a serial killer, would you take him seriously?
→ Who are the censors dept? What’s most important in the government of a free society? Of course, the freedom to discuss and debate is most important most everywhere. Some Democrats may think the freedom to cut the testicles off little boys who play with dolls is important… but free discussion? Check this out from Stop Republicans… a Democrat front group:
→ Flogging
the corpse of GG dept: The great bandleader/comic book artist Scott
Corkern has finished his GG Allin Comic book. I’ve contributed to
it, as have
a host of others. BUT, Scott is the key… the
genius.
It’s expensive (list price around $30). I’ve got a few that’ll
go for $20 each. But you have to get to me quick to get one. If
you’re interested send me email: god@mykelboard.com
with
GG COMIC in the subject line. The first five emails will get one
cheap(er).
See you in hell, redux,
MB
THE
NATION AGAIN
I’m
a long-time subscriber to the The
Nation.
It’s the only lefty publication that I find myself not only
agreeing with, but also getting inspiration from. Strangely,
when I post this stuff on facebook, no one looks at it. My “friends”
would just rather call me a “Trumpist” or a “Republican” for
all the times I don’t follow the party line. If it’s printed in
THE NATION, it should give me street cred, right? Yeah right.
There is a great article by the new editor, about so-called “Democratic Unity.” It blasts the centrists for taking over, and the wimps on the left for letting them show off “their unity muscle.” Who wants unity if it’s for a bad cause.
The same issue has a piece by Sasha Abramsky about Universal Basic Income. A plan where everyone gets some money (not enough, I’d say) just for living. The rich pay to put a floor under the poor. Yes! Yes! Yes!
LINK TRADE DEPARTMENT:
I did a nice interview with The Aither zine. Interesting questions, complete, and questions I’ve never been asked before. You can read it here. It’s a good one.
I read that the search engines like lots of links... and it's also nice to support my friends and enemies in their blogs. So facebook me or email me if you have a blog, webpage or something else to connect to. I add you. You add me.
Here's a start:
Jason Rodgers sent me his book Invisible Generation… free! And I lost it. Jason, a long-time partner of Suzy Poe, has been bugging me to review it… and I can’t. So the best I can do is promote it. I have a lot of respect for Jason… he is a libertarian (in the best sense of the word), and a super-smart guy. When/if I find the book, I’ll give you some more details.
Video of the week: My long-time friend Sid Yiddish appears on a YouTube DatingGame-like video. Guess who wins the bachlorette!
Here’s Richard Goldberg: goldberg.wordpress.com
Poetry and humor fans will like Justin Martin in The Latency
And my friend Mike R has a nice site with recipe hits from the past! (He cooked for me once... great stuff.) Check out Yesterday's Recipes.
And here's one by a member of ANTI-SEEN... a tour diary of sorts.
Andy Shelton has an interesting blog here.
Savage Hippie is a guy who has been YouTubing for a long time. Our opinions largely overlap... but he complains that I'm a Communist. I'm not! I'm a communist.
Chris Stecher publishes a zine called PRECIS. You can see the back issue links there... and he promises a new issue soon.
George Fertakis has a very nice graphics-heavy blog... with music and books featured prominently. If there’s no link here (I can’t find it temporarily), then Google… er… Duckduckgo him for information.
And my long-term pal Sid Yiddish contributes with his Mishegas Master Blog.
And connect to TRUST Zine, a long-running German punk zine… that STILL PRINTS!!! Yeah, they have a website too… of course! It’s here.
Here are a couple video links.
This from Jon Cox https://squelchchamber1.bandcamp.com/album/down-so-low
And this one from my very long-time friend Roger Armstrong.
Jim Testa moved his long running zine, Jersey Beat, to the blogosphere awhile back. You can read it here. Jim also recommended a kind of unique album… in a style you don’t see to much of these days… or any days. Neo-Hassidic Rock Opera. You can stream the album here.
Kyle Nonneman is in prison in Portland. At least he can’t be kidnapped by the secret police… I think. I post his blog for him, he can’t do it from the klink. Lots of stuff about noise metal… and some very weird politics that will either fascinate or repulse you… or both.
My long time pal, Jim Hayes rightfully complained about my leaving out his blog. He’s a great writer, so it was a tragic omission. Here it is.
Oh yeah, then there’s me. I have a blog of stuff I’ve written mostly from last century. You might enjoy it. Then again, you might not. It’s here.
Let me know if you have a blog… or a print zine… or a YouTube and want to be added to the list. You show me yours… you’ve already seen mine. god@mykelboard.com
