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Ostomy Memory Grappling


Some people go in for the brutal pummeling of boxing, some like to watch the faux sport of wrestling, while others get excited over mixed martial arts (MMA), the kicking and gouging sending them into paroxysms of gladiatorial frenzy. Me, I prefer the purity and solitude of memory grappling (MG). It is rough and tumble without the blood and sweat, although – admittedly – there can be some tears. Unlike other contact sports, my ostomy is not at risk of suffering injury; only my psyche goes out on a limb. It is inevitably exciting, as it never fails to route me over new paths back into the humid forest of my past, into a kind of life after death. In fact, my memory is really the only afterlife I can recognize and understand. And it comprises all three of the abodes found in Dante’s Divine Comedy: it may take me through Hell, at times into Purgatory, and – less often, I fear – into Paradise. I am time traveling, a pastime that requires no passport or visa, I need stand in no line to pass through security, and my flight path boasts the freedom of a butterfly over a private park. Plus, there’s the perk of frequent flier miles.

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"Paroxysms of gladiatorial frenzy" is the phrase of the day! I am going to have to find a way to use it as often as possible for the rest of today, and maybe even into tomorrow. Henry, you are the master of evocative description!


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