I have become obsessed with the holes they drilled into my skull. This is possibly not a healthy obsession, but it's hard not to be intrigued when every time you catch a glimpse of yourself in some reflective surface -- like the highly polished arse of a baboon for example -- there's a dirty big square of white bandage slap between your eyes.
The surgeon said he would do his best to minimise the scarring by drilling them little holes as close to my eyebrows as possible, hiding them in the tiny wrinkles that are caused by marrying a woman from Fife. But I've not seen them yet. They were all bandaged up when I came round after the operation. Yes, I saw the results on the white gauze -- little dots of red that spread out into darker brown and black stains, but when the nurse changed the bandage, so I didn't scare children on my way out of the hospital with my blood-soaked head, I didn't get a chance to see the aftermath of this trepanation.
I wonder if all these little holes in my head will make a difference to my writing? Will I become shamanistic, channelling voices from the spirit world to populate Aberdeen? Will be able to see into the future, like that made up monk bloke in THE THIRD EYE? Or will I just end up with some weird little scars and a bit of a headache?
Perhaps it's none of the above? Perhaps this obsession with my sieve-like skull is just the result of prescription medication, little sleep and less food... Or maybe it's all the fault of the voices!
Hmm... I think we should end this post here, before it gets a little strange and people start to talk.