Diary - Wednesday, August 15th, 2001

One Vision

Last night on the way home from a failed coffee run (alas, white chocolate mocha latte was not to be mine), Brandt and I found a chemist to enquire about Emla cream. The result was less than encouraging - a 30 ml tube is eighty dollars. Eighty dollars - surely for that I could hire an anesthetist? Or at least a phrenologist to be present when I get one of my friends to render me unconscious with a mallet? I am certain I could find volunteers to do this. Collabi for one. Now that I think about it, Geoffrey and Evan would probably help too.

It's nice to have brothers.

The chemist recommended a substitute, which I will be trying. Apparently it is less effective, so I am hoping it will be enough to allow me to stay still. I am peeling once more in multicoloured strips of skin, and by this point I have simply become tolerant of the smell of bepanthen. Even the vague uncomfortable itchy feeling is not something I pay that much attention to. I am too used to it.

I have a hope that the numbing cream will allow me to take longer sessions, or at least stay still enough that Claudia can use those long cutting strokes that I so hate. Once again I ponder how on earth she managed to convince me to get such a large piece of work done. Not that I will regret the finished product, but the process is certainly a draining one.

Currently the flames at the base are being worked on. They are extremely bold, dark, thick outlines around bright reds and oranges, almost like ribbons. Makes me want to sing 'We are few and far between, I was thinking about my skin'.