MoMilli – Swag Somerset MaughamFollow
Messr (Doctor?) Maugham
I wrote (doctored) some patient
narrative tweets with all the
confidence of this hypothetical
twenty-six year-old well-appearing
well-nourished irritable endearing
with again (speaking hypothetically)
younger than her stated age
on the inpatient psych ward
for whom the lockdown nurses
duly notified of violence to self ideation
confiscated the bedsheets.
I checked off flight of ideas and grandiose on the mnemonic.
Sad persons dig fast, triple-beaming.
And dig this: into themselves, meaning.
Maugham doctor-wrote interwar sexin’
if you're into that stuff
by the British Empire's last gleaming.
His letters are mildly entertaining.
Also The Razor’s Edge is supposedly good.
Praised on the reg, but I haven’t read it.
Your thumbnail's enough for the tweens.
Your Royal Henley's the erg doing 2ks power-tenning.
By your logic, then, I’ve been everywhere, fam.
Why write about it?
But you say the word and I'll write you a new one.
You say sup? I say how high?
I say rien I inhale and we'll nail.
Fire on water. Backwoods signs. Leave no trail.
You'll skulk around this headspace on a tear
tiptoeing feet delicate practicing steering
my scull fleet for afterschool crew practice.
Break me off a piece of those twitpic hits @arze.
Asher Roth may have signed his copy of The Razor's Edge
but I’ve been there, too, homes
is why I didn’t have to.
I doctored peeps and kept their stories to myself, fool.
Whole not having time to write in school verbal hedge deal.
Ain't that some shit, blogosphere!
Oh, no, you di'int, Frauline Doktor.
Well, you're right, I guess I did, too, cuz I am a damn fool.
I did what I had to to survive school, mmm-hmm.
I wrote my stories for myself, I mean, is who.
They gave me a small cut, sure, even though I haven't made one.
but they’re out on the market for $2.99 for 1.5 stars
if you want to upvote it on the distributor website for pageviews.
Sorry, I'm not a her-doctor (minus one star).
Wham-bam, thank you doctor-ladies suggesting I
V-Day monologuing about dental dams?
Not all of you, just the few webcams
Who have never read, or only read I.B.S.
whose tests so dishonor Cam.
Sorry I’m not a twenty-six year-old recent graduate of a
pashmina scarf with a graduate degree in
26.2 (sorry, work-out of the day now, W.O.D.)
whose well-crafted 800-1500 wd recap of in re:
(minus one half)
or a white girl w/MC hammerpants malaise
(one more half and then some)
sexin’ up the ebook racket whilst on the rag
downloadable on iPad for treadmill desk pod.
I'm MoMilli with a distorted sense of scale
plus I have belligerent tensile vocal cords.
Say thankyou, prehensile-at-straws, please can I have some Mo?
Please, gamma ray, don't murk 'em, or I'll ma'am you to death.
I'll damn you scrubs all to 80-hour work week limitations and nautical pajamas not even on on sick days.
And your patients all to hell else the prison health floor which is believe it or not a step up from the slammer.
And sorry I'm a bit of a ham but I'm demographically in a bit of an artisanal mason jar jammer.
Because it was so interesting when I had a patient who.
Because it was so interesting when I was on night float and I ordered take out from which my med student had to get when I.
Because it was so interesting when I was so tired that night I thought I was going to.
And there's this great story about the time I kept getting paged by and it was just the.
So interesting when I, he was, she was going to, and I just was about to.
So interesting when I "rapid-response'd".
And it was just the worst.
So interesting when I.
I'm totally okay now, I swear it.
But please, be patient with me,
meaning MoMilli the drudgery self-absorbed sledgehammer.
The patient part of me long ago died.
The adult contemporary station was on while I coded.
This will be my testimony.
Reader, it has been some journey, some clinical pearl,
and I (doctor) ain't mad atcha. I ain't mad at y'all.
I won't say anything at all.
So why don't you slide?
Whoa-oh-oh-oh I'm still alive.
I wanna wake up where you are, that’s alls I know.
I wanna wake up and make a baby, goo-goo, and now we are six.
Now we are in a fix.
Ain't that some shit.
We are all hypothetical twenty-six year-old bullshit artists.
"That's alls I know" is the catchphrase from Wallace Shawn’s character on Murphy Brown, Stuart Best, the anchorman-turned-tobacco lobbyist.
Back then, only tie I wore was for a costume bright future in showchoir,
only tie I had to Brooklyn was whatever I imagined out of the Blossom supporting character Six.
Swag Jenna von Oy on y'all, not on me, tho, cuz I always preferred Empty Nest.
Living the life of Leisure post-Joe Izuzu.
At the keys I am lazy
I am the talented Mr. MoMilli
Wicking my razor on my thumbpad in a white robe
While Freddie Miles is plinking the piano
sees me while PSH still breathes his last.
Meanwhile the culture of narcissism is going strong
scrolling back to bath chess w/Law in the buff.
The years have obscured that dude, but were I male it'd still give me a hard-on.
Wish PSH'd had a buddy with Narcan.
I have seen the ED admits wake up with the push in their arm starry-eyed
eyes ringed with fears I vamp off them as I'm watching
see one do one
because I don't wring my neck to wash my hands of their narratives
I wring yours, and
ring around the rosy version but really I'm wearing their ring.
My dinner with double entendre and Stuart Smalley got moved back from six that night float when I was on call
but I’m not sorry I never ended up a punkass boy wonder essayist
Spotifying Oi! from the decline and fall of the post-British Empire postwar collectivist consensus.
I’m not sorry I recommended The Women and White Girls by Hilton Als
to him(s) via annoying unsolicited e-mails
(why won’t she get the hint?!)
which I guess he (they) can pass taste off onto the next woman
with whom they’re smacking giving lipservice
and maybe kinda secretly love it.
Well, my quill is a cheap thrill
For those Big Pharma-penned doctor-pretenders pinned to the bestseller list
but when I'm empowering myself to use
it mine rings clear as this dude over here fucking around w/his external hard drive trying to d/l
the next version of Apple GarageBand software onto his busted college discount Dell.
See I can’t do much to quell your fears
your concern I’m going to jack up
the costs of your care
else completely misinterpret your medical bill.
Cuz I'm just MoMill. And my brain drill and kill.
Trephination without representation.
My voice I am told needs representation.
This terror squad voice of the many is perhaps an inappropriate peroration
Would you prefer I recommend
Risperdal prescriptions to less solicitous girls who
despite their best efforts can't seem to OD on 'em,
or me put 'em to sleep w/Seroquel?
Well, I'm only MoMill. And I'm tremulous toward seniors
lording my generation's student debt crisis over Capitol Hill.
To be totally honest, I’d rather write about
chemical regulation or the political historian Christopher Lasch
as the idealist mansplainer of WJC and Hill
but there is all this total abject human suffering and psychic despair
and social safety net disrepair, so.
If that isn’t a relatable story for your Barclays Center, then I don’t know what to tell you, bro.
Don’t be so damn hard on yourself, is the PSH tragedy takeaway, I think.
Fake swag Somerset Maugham instead.
That's pretty much it, isn't it?
All vital signs point to yes.
How can we know the debaucher from the debauched?
I don’t know where to go from here.
I don’t know what to tell patients when they want someone, themselves, not me, to go out there and tell.
Tell us what?
You think you know how to tell me how to what?
Hang together, else hang tough.
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