knickers in a twist!

i breathed for a dog during his lung lobectomy yesterday. there was his heart, gyrating under a pile of wet gauze. there were his lungs, pale and limpid and inflating under my duress. the chest wall was closed via sutures woven through ribs. medicine is primitive as fuck, really. the doctor literally tossed the lung tissue onto the sterile table- devoid of air, it resembled a piece of bologna. it is now bottled in formalin, in a box (along with the same dog's amuptated leg and a neoplastic lymph node) en route to CSU; the dog, three hours post-op, was moving around on his newfound stump, letting me pet him, temperature and pulses normal, membranes pink. primitive worked for him.
i work with several snivelly hags who call in sick if they have a headache- or, barring that, whine relentlessly about how impaired they are. 3 techs were gone yesterday, being ill- and then this dog, stoic as fuck... drama and histrionics simply do not exist in the wild. i thought about that as i drove home last night, on the dark and empty 2am interstate, smoking a cigarette as mist cauled the windshield. asphalt and buildings, empty yet brightly lit rooms, cars at stoplights filled with solitary unsmiling strangers, decorative shrubbery, rotating billboards advertising the lottery, liquor, flexible interest rates, dsl. if i have not already mentioned it, i urge everyone to read 'affluenza.' just don't actually, you know, pay money for it or anything.
and i am in a mood today, as usual, to contentedly Do My Own Thing, to ignore the lascivious text i received this morning, to ignore the reality that he truly doesn;t have a fucking clue. they can't ALL not have a fucking clue, right? surely i fit in there someplace? a lyric i once heard in AK (and most likely cited before): 'my emotions turn from blue to red.' i think of that line a lot. it says everything, really. i am objectively puzzled at how my impulsive ardor can d/evolve into near-complete indifference, even as i know what thoughts and events (of which there were several) led me there. i care a fuck of a lot and then... i don't. or i still do, i'm just tired of being fucked with. or i get bored. i get bored most easily of all.
as is also my tedious pattern, i will probably carry this 'me v. world' arrogance through the day, and when night falls loneliness and a sense of acquiescence will pervade, and i'll feel like a colossal asshole.
YES, I AM COGNIZANT OF THE CHILDISH TEDIUM OF MY MECURIAL TEMPERMENT.
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there should be, if there isn;t already, a porn movie set in a rural blue-hill-country county lockdown. a female jail. and it could be called 'petticoat prison.'
i just thought of that.
why, i cannot fucking imagine.