Number 1 Psycho Nurse, Mischita Karamasha: please tie me to my chair

Tonight the temperature drops to freezing. I haven't been outside of the office all day, but keep hearing reports about how cold it is getting. I have stayed inside, busy organizing files to perfection including all contained papers being folded into precise squares. Also, busy in my own mind, thinking of Nurse Karamasha making her rounds in the hospital.

I wish I was one of her patiens so that she would tie me to my chair and use the rubber gloves.

Oh and I think she will use them and do it eventually, in the room! But the mansion is years away. For now I have to content myself with pictures and stories in my mind, and tolerate the jealousy I feel that anyone else is even allowed to look at her or come into contact with her.

Jealousy: even of the drooling, wild, pee-their-pants geriatrics, or violent, turn-on-you, biting children. It isn't fair, that they should see her wearing (I'm guessing but uncertain, judging from the picture) the jeans that I got for her, and I cannot wrap my man-hands around the tiny thighs and scratch the fabric.

Anyway, enough about my obsession. (It's not really enough though, the desire is quite insatiable, which is a good ... no, a great thing, because where insatibility lurks, there lurks inspiration, my water).

Last night I dreamed that I was at Saddam Hussein's execution. First I was next to the hangman, and I was thinking about how he seemed pretty nice, and about all the people they said volunteered to do the job, and how he won. He was a very large, shirtless, white man, typical. Then I was in the small crowd facing the scaffold. There were three men on the platform, like Jesus' execution, although I learned today that my imagination was correct, and Saddam was not executed alone either. A line of guards stretched stage right, and I heard them chanting mumbai-something, just like I read in the paper, that they chanted the opposition group's name while he was hanged. I felt curious about the business at hand, but not appalled or happy or any other strong emotion. I was just surprised that anybody could watch, and I thought about how they used to televise electrocutions.

I'm not sure what my dream meant, well obviously a sense of peace with and observation of some judgement recently made. Although it has nothing to do with the dream, I will use this opportunity to note that the execution of Saddam Hussein was absolutely wrong and hypocritical, as are all implementations of any sort of death penalty by state. It made me sick. It's not that I felt sorry for him, I don't give two fucks about his happiness or any pain experienced. He deserved to suffer. But it would only have been justice if an innocent party had punished him, and there is no innocent government, certainly not ours, not the Iraqi government either, no one in a position of power or with something to gain from it.