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My nostril’s angry. It is. It’s pissed off.
My nostril’s furious and it needs to talk. It needs to talk about
all this shit. It needs to talk to you. I mean what’s the deal?
An army of people out there thinking up ways to torture my poor-ass, gentle,
loving nostril…Spending their days constructing psycho products
and nasty ideas to undermine my nasal cavity.
All this shit they’ve constantly trying to shove up us, pierce
us with, clean us up! Like nasal spray, what the hell is that? A shot
of burning fluid squirting up to my brain?! Why can’t they find
a way to make it not taste like two week old acidic orange juice mixed
with used mouthwash. As soon as my nostril smells it, it goes into shock.
It says, Forget it. It closes up. You need to work with the nostril, introduce
it to things, prepare the way.
And stop shoving rings through it. Nostrils do not need decoration or
more holes. Its not supposed to be a colander for snot. It had enough
trouble keep the snot from coming out the two openings that are supposed
to be there.
Then there are doctor visits. Who thought them up? Why do I need to completely
undress and wear a paper towel over myself to have them check what’s
already exposed for easy access? And why the flashlight all up there like
Nancy Drew working against gravity and then the swabs they take, trying
to poke my brain. My nostril’s angry about those visits. It gets
defended weeks in advance. It shuts down won’t relax. Don’t
you hate that when they try to tell you to “Relax your nose, relax
your breathing.” Why? My nostril is not stupid. Relax so you can
shove a flashlight and 10 inch cotton swab up inside it?
Nostrils need comfort, they’re supposed to be loose and wide. Make
something to give them pleasure, but no one is ready to see a nostril
enjoying itself sneezing whenever it feels like and left alone. But society
wouldn’t be able stand seeing all those energized, not-taking-shit,
hot, happy nostrils.
If my nostril could talk, it would talk about itself like me; it would
talk about other nostrils; it would do nostril impressions. It would throw
nostril dinner parties.
My nostril once helped me blow out a giant loogie but it thought it would
be doing more then that. It’s not. Now it wants to travel, doesn’t
want a lot of company. It wants to read and know things and get out more.
It wants to go deeper. It’s hungry for depth. It wants kindness.
It wants change. It wants silence and freedom and gentle kisses and warm
liquids and deep touch. It wants chocolate. It wants to yell. It wants
to stop being angry. It wants, it wants, it wants. My nostril wants everything.
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Ulsamer St. Claire's Essays
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