Monday at the GU clinic

I will describe myself based on a visit to the Ealing GU clinic which occurred on the 31/7/07. I wasn't worried about anything. Really i was bored and decided to splash out on some NHS treatment. I was determined to spend some money that day. It's funny when you tell people your going to a Genito-Urinary Medicine clinic. They ask you questions like " whats wrong?" or "Are you okay?" They then proceed to reassure you when you had no doubts in the first place.

I had never been to a GU clinic before, but i was quite excited by the prospect of sitting in a room drenched in embarrassment; the main travesty here being ego wounds. I sat down and watched all the bowed heads. Men walking in and announcing shyly that they hadn't booked an appointment, and the receptionist replying it wasn't necessary. One guy came in and declared very confidently
"Can i get checked out or what?" I dropped my yellow ticket no. 4 on the floor, picked it up and put it on the chair next to me with its red broken cloth and distinctness. I took out the poetry of Blake and some Capote which i had just grabbed from WH Smiths, as well as an electronic dictionary in case i was unfamiliar with any words i came across.

It was quite hot that day, and everyones perspiration was accentuated by the sunlight pouring through the window. The collective psyche was hilarious. The room was a concentration of expired and embarrassed testosterone. They spread their legs out dominantly, flicking through the daily star and looking at page 3 girl tits (apart from one anxious looking homosexual who perpetually shifted in his chair, sweated profusely and went back and forth to the bathroom more times than a self conscious woman checking her chicken fillets aren't slipping out.) I had to restrain bursting out laughing a couple of times. Maybe i took the wrong approach. The yellow card i was given dictated the order of things.
"Yellow ticket 1 please". "Yellow ticket number 2". "Yellow ticket 3, go through". "Yellow ticket number 4".

It was one of those instances where you know your up next but you still feel surprised. And all at once eyes flashed up, the whites of them blinding! I filled out details. I didn't know whether or not to lie. I wrote down everything in cathartic honesty.

"Mr Brown?"- several minutes later. I got up and followed a delightful blond guy into a consulting room. We chatted about my sex life. He told me what they would do for me today. Hepatitis B vaccine, blood tests, prick, mouth and ass swabs. I started talking to him about psychosomatics and he started talking to me about how gays were not allowed to give blood. Then he invited me to lie down on a bed. He inspected my mouth with an overhead light. Then he asked me to pull down my trousers and pants. He felt my balls and prick, looked up my ass. Everything seemed fine. It was bizarre for me. His nature was placid and overtly pleasant; the situation seemed pastiche. Maybe it was my novice-ness, or maybe his professionalism.

Back in the waiting room i came across someone i knew. A Piccadilly line driver reading Richard Branson's biography. Spluttering and coughing form a throat infection, he related to me his expedition to Gran Canaria, scaffolding the words with pictures of him shagging and his colleagues being molested by drag queens. His leg bounced next to mine which irritated me. He has aspergers syndrome, and in his shyness licked his fingers, rolled his tongue around and avoided eye contact by guffawing in all different directions other than my own. He is mathematically minded, i am more literary, philosophical. Subjective really, which isn't the best route. He made this clear by saying that a maths problem is either right or wrong and he was able to get them right quite easily. It is far more taxing to evaluate an opinion. I said i was hungry. He invited me out for dinner. I lied to rebuff him. He wants to fuck me.

Next a bright Australian nurse invited me into an examination room. She had pearly teeth and a bright cheerful countenance. She was quite petite. Her being an Australian, i decided to make chit-chat about the criminal history of Australia. I was mistaken for an anorak. After i had told her i didn't need to piss in response to her asking me if i did, she pulled out a needle, strapped on a tourniquet and watched my blood vessels inflate. She gave me the weirdest compliment:
"You have nice veins by the way". Out with the vacuum vials and on with sticking the needle into my arm. I couldn't help feel the pleasure a junky must feel in anticipation. Ahhhhhhh. Red, sticky blood came swirling out, curling round the translucent tubular mesh and depositing into the vial, turning the translucence of the glass a thick, hot cranberry. Two extrications later, she put them safely away somewhere. Then the delightful lady requested i drop my pants. The mouth swab was done. She was going in with the hard blue swab down the eye of my penis. Apparently there would be a slight discomfort. Then a second larger one went right down there. Once wiped on red petri dishes for the purpose of cultivating some sexually transmitted disease if it were present in me, i returned to the waiting room after telling her it was lovely to meet her. I saw her click over to the laboratory with my atoms and slight pre-cum (which is a permanent thing for me. incontinence!).

The train driver was back there too. I picked up a newspaper. He took it of me and gave me a reality TV show paper substitute. Some display of dominance? David then entered the conversation Symbolically. A "great doctor who claims to be a psychologist" i was told. I think the train driver must have had words with him because he was the one who i coincidentally got to see. I had arrived at 3:45 and was still on my ass at 6:00.

David called me, and led me through the familiar -by now- corridor. An office with plants and other comforting elements (his) would not be available to us, so we took a large room with a bed covered with the tatty, think, flimsy, disposable paper and a wonderful view. We sat, him simultaneously saying there was an inflection of gay men at present. I was there for the HIV test. I told him i knew he was a psychologist and there started a wonderful conversation of gesticulation, intrigue and entertainment. We talked of psychosomatics, Freud, Jung and Erik Erikson, whom David admires. Impressed by my knowledge and ardour, I by his wonderful compilation of words we hit it off like HIV and homosexuals. He had classic bleach blond hair and some funky checkered trousers, wrapped in a camp belt. Excitement flowed at the mention of Leonard Cohen, Burroughs, Scriabin, languid sex, intellectual sex, poetic longing, feelings of contained heat, being human all too human, body language, virility, men and his childhood.

He drifted in and out a few times. He still had not given me the instant HIV test. The Australian bird came back in and did the hepatitis B vaccination for me. We had a laugh about something idiotic. A little later David came back in, said the classic "you may feel a prick" - carry on-esque. It fucking stabbed! My blood dripped onto the test. I went out and waited for a bit.

I wasn't apprehensive. I am a firm believer in live of fate. The train driver came and sat next to me unfortunately. Two Styrofoam cups filled with water later a camp Chinese guy named Chung said he would read my results for me seeing as David was busy.

I was anticipating the revelation of my results to be far grander. There were three tests; I pointed to mine. All negative. Okay. I am HIV negative. So?

David gave me his card, and asked Chung to do my other hepatitis injections the following Monday.
"If your lucky". hahahaha.


Fun.

Undiluted Stars!

Here is the lumbering start! Zoroastres, undiluted stars shall shine hereafter!

Everything hitherto has been reams and streamers of some long forgotten celebration - a celebration in Unawareness!
Knowing is the most powerful electric we can fathom and attain. Electricity grounded by naivety and hardiness. Unbound ropes lay across the floor. With a pensive maturity, a river of languidness, joy and electricity will flow in words and contra-contagious feeling (for how can my feeling be successfully transmitted to you?).


But be patient in this grand opening. I still have the transformative nature of everything right on my fingers.


Here shall be my stories (fictional and factual), philosophies, psychologies and boredom combatants.

For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.