Bangbangbangbang!

All told I was inside the slammer for 25 minutes. I held a black squeeze-bulb in my hand if I wanted to get out. I told the two techs - George from Injah and Song from China - that I'd be fine but that I may start singing if things got harry.

My first song was Taps. Day is Done.

Next was the Jimi Hendrix version of Star-Spangled Banner. I was embarrassed cuz I couldn't reach the high notes.

Neither could I hear the music I'd brought which was playing soto voce thru the headphones: Keith Jarrett's Koln Concert.

Lay on your back and let your arms draw a circle over your head. That's how much room you have in the machine.

I closed my eyes and opened them. I looked out toward my feet but couldn't see much.

Remember the kidnap victim a long time ago who was put in an underground coffin while they ransomed for her life? That was one of my many many thoughts. I honestly tried to think of something pleasant, like swimming in the pool at the Regency Watson at the shore but - clang ca ca clang clang clang CLANGCLANG CLANG - it often sounded like music and I thought about Aaron Copeland.

The mind is never still.

I pretended the MRI was curing my sciatica tho it ached badly. I pretended I was having chemotherapy to zap some hidden tumor.

After every round, the tech would speak to me, telling me, A five-minute round is coming up. Except I couldn't hear him!

I forgot all about Keith Jarrett when suddenly I heard this terrific soft music in the background...and then I remembered.

I did not fear the MRI. I did not worry about it. Too busy working on the Compass and sending out nasty emails saying things like:

Please don't send me email forwards that are 'canned wisdom.'

or

I delete all email forwards. I'm a busy person.

Rude. Inconsiderate. C'est moi.

Let's see. My last email forward was a NY Times slide show of Cher to a friend who dresses as a woman for his company's Xmas party. He's a radiologist.

Not to mention this satirical column by Ralph Nader on the most disappointing president in modern times.

My last thoughts were What am I gonna eat when Fontaine drives me home?

Mom's delicious chicken dunked in Hellmann's mayo, her pea soup and huge green grapes.

I ate everything face down on my bed while talking on the phone.

BTW, the cost of the MRI was $80. I was heard to mutter, What do I have insurance for? And why are corporate profits higher than ever this quarter when the rest of us are poorer than ever?