The cockatoo did not escape today. The people at the hospital made me take out all of my earrings, I tried to explain to them I wouldn't be able to get them all back in, I know this because the cockatoo has taken my earrings out before. I will need to go to a tattoo shop to have them put new rings in, thank goodness I have some sterile packs of rings the right gauges of titanium for them. I wonder if they see someone rolled into their shop in a wheelchair if they get excited about being able to ink that body that might not send messages to the brain about the pain of the needles. I don't mind the pain for one hour periods of course, but someone like a paraplegic or quadriplegic can probably take hours more. Fuck, I'm really morbid. I might make a story of that sometime though.
The wife woke up crying. She dreamed she was helping the last living gorillas in the world, and able to communicate with the one who asked for help. His family had been killed by some very bad and evil poachers. She loves gorillas, but I've never known her to dream of them. Usually she dreams of MUDs she's currently playing, which I believe she's playing a SLK desert elf on one, and the Feral Will of the Duiran/Prideleader of the Sentinels on another MUD. We met on the second MUD after playing a few years together. We've been together eight years now and are happy enough together. My Paladin against her Infernal Knight. We of course made alts, she made a sentinel, and I made a druid to play together. We had such fun, but it's all make believe. It's like what the buddhist believe isn't it, that nothing is real, that we make it up in our minds. I suppose that's why I love to MUD, but I've learned to keep it to an hour a day. It makes it hard to give a good amount of time to House Kadius or to the Duiran, whichever MUD I play. But the illness keeps me in bed seventeen hours a day.
I have the cockatoo for company, he in his cage, me in my bed. I wish the wife would let him out more, he only wants to be with me. It makes me sad, it makes the cockatoo sad as well. I'm confined to a bed, I should know. I say that out loud often, I've yelled it, it's echoed throughout the house, seeped into the walls, floors, woodwork. The house knows my misery and so does the cockatoo. He cries when I do.