Grand Malaise

Yes, yes. I saw that episode as well. I was intensely interested in watching his eyes. I wanted to know how his look would appear while he was in the grip of grand mal. It's true that Caesar still seemed to be looking at something. Though I feel confident in saying that at the time he saw nothing. Once the darkness comes there is nothing more to see.

It happened to me once while I was with a woman I loved. She told me later that I had such a fearful look of rage in my eyes. Of course, I remembered nothing. Though I'm sorry she saw that look on my face. I think it may have frightened her.

Undoubtedly there are those who would say that at such time my fury is surfacing within me. Perhaps. I'm certain there are aspects of myself of which I'm not wholly aware.

I remember well the look on the doctor's face when he first pronounced his diagnosis over me. The way his eyes widened as he drew in his breath and said the word. My God, he may as well have pronounced the word "Death" over me. Oddly enough, I was quite unmoved by it. Perhaps because I was so young. After all, it was, what, over forty-five years ago?

I distinctly remember thinking, however, "Well, how bad can it be? Caesar had it, and it doesn't seem to have gotten in his way."

Also, it struck me as being a sort of dramatic, theatrical thing. I was entering my phase of adolescent Romantic narcissism. How perfect, for a lone tormented genius to be actually, well, tormented by something. Otherwise, it would simply be an empty gesture.

I fear I may have had too many such episodes while alone, and that I may have actually done some damage to myself. Although I can't match any of the disservice I've done to my poor but patient body directly to a grand mal, God knows what knocking around I did to myself when I writhed in private.

Oh, it's fully under control. Thanks be to medication. But it's lost its Romance. Now it's simply one element in a constellation of neural mishaps. But I remain unmoved. It's simply karma. Life is rarely perfect. We get on with our laughter and tears, our joys and our pains. And the better us seek to comfort those less fortunate. I think it's the way the world should be.

But I ramble. Another wine?