Word of the day

Slave /sleɪv/ [sleyv] –noun
1. a person who is the property of and wholly subject to another; a bond servant.

2. a person entirely under the domination of some influence or person: a slave to a drug.

Usage: My employer does not believe in increasing our salaries to counter inflation, pays us in a day what our counterparts earn in an hour or less, and does not allow us to seek additional employment. We're almost slaves.

Michael Moore's "Sicko".

A rousing documentary about HMOs, dirty politics and healthcare. Makes you think quite a bit. Recommend watching it.

Pittance of a salary has arrived. Rejoice. Now I can afford lunch for another month.

Pickup Artists

Read "The Game" by Neil Strauss a year ago. Here's the ABC feature.

Today I was at the Health Promotion Board.

Today I performed an exorcism. Or tried to anyway.

He came in, plump, half-tearing, and all of 4 and a half years of age, clinging on to his grandmother for dear life. Siwen's prior entry in his case notes had warned me to expect the worse, and so I was prepared, heart-hardened and ready to do my work.

He was meek and offered little resistance, as long as his anxiety was allayed by kisses from his grandmother (at his insistence), a somewhat grotesque public display.

With the tools of my trade brandished, gleaming from the overhead incandescent light, I attempted to halt the decadence that was eating his teeth away, a mortal remedy to this suffering soul. He sobbed, begging me to cease, pleading for his grandmother to whisk him away. I succeeded in my first measure of healing.

Triumphant, and a tad bit devil may care from the small victory, I missed the signs - the increased intensity of clutching of the grandmother's hand, the pitiful whimpering transitioning into louder cries. I had roused the demons from within, and now it was my cross to bear.

The transmogrification gripped me with unexpected suddenness. While trying to restore form and function, he grabbed my hand, my instruments, in a violent struggle that could have been a danger to him and my license. The wailing started, with intermittent blood curdling shrieks that wouldn't have been out of place in brutal medieval inquisitions.

We summoned for help. My assistant restrained his right arm, while another pinned down his epileptic torso and flailing legs. Yet another held down his head. His grandmother had the unenviable task of clasping his left arm as i resumed my task. And I was so close to finishing.

His grandmother, torn between emotions and reasoning, loosened her grip and the left hand came, swinging at mine.

"Le gia yi eh chiu, mai pang diao" my assistant barked to the hesitating grandmother, and she recovered from her absence seizure.

I purged that 1 demon called #65o caries. But I had left scars.

Some, like that cut near at the buccal mucosa, will heal. It's the wound on the mind and soul, the irrepressible seed of fear that has been planted, and certain to bear fruit of terror, that's going to be a problem. But not my problem.

Because tomorrow, I'll be back at RGS :)