open letter to 'the british medical journal'

[Geoffrey]

a dental patient is not necessarily a mental patient

despite knowing my dental surgeon is a nice lady, as soon as i sit in her chair it seems the law of physics goes haywire. the entire molecular structure of her face changes. soft feminine contours metamorphose into sharp chiselled features, flaring nostrils over thin cruel lips housing a reptile's tongue, impeccable alabaster-coloured skin is replaced with hideous red scales - and those calm reassuring eyes of hazel acquire the appearance of piercing flames that scorch everything they see. i swear i can also make out a couple of small horns protruding from her forehead - giving her the countenance of a goat. a pair of menacing canine incisors drip saliva as they stretch down from the corners of a repulsive mouth that emits a sulphuric stench. within seconds a smiling white-clad orthodontic practitioner mutates into the monstrous shape of the devil incarnate.

i used to wonder: is this reality or am i hallucinating? is this connected to quantum mechanics, a display of the instability of particle energy? has my consciousness been hijacked into hell? have i entered a territory inhabited by changelings like the incredible hulk and mr hyde? how could a little tray of shining stainless steel dentistry instruments turn into a workbench of rusty implements of torture? thumbscrews, hatpins, razor blades, meat hooks, piano wires, red hot tongs, cow prodders - you name it. how could a spotlessly hygienic dentist's room with flood-lighting transform into a shadowy chamber of horrors with cobwebs and rats?

although talking privately to a deity is not a pastime to which i normally subscribe, i confess that a prayer or two directed to the divine craftsman has been composed during such circumstances. i fall to my kneecaps and beg forgiveness for whatever sin or act of defiance was committed against the all-merciful architect of the cosmos. heavenly father, master of the universe, i admit i've been bad, but by christ i've paid for it. am i not but a weak mortal who has suffered all his life from dental phobia? i don't want to die, but if hinduism is right, and there is such a thing as reincarnation, i will be good next time. you mark my words.

the bible tells us that beneath the sheet on every deathbed awaits the grim reaper, that he will lead us along a corridor leading to an escalator operated either by an angel or a demon. we are either taken up to the penthouse or down to the basement. it's no secret that my ticket is illustrated with a toasting fork; everybody in the waiting room knows i'm petrified. they've seen me going nervously backwards and forwards to the lavatory. they sit there chatting about the weather, looking out the windows, thumbing through garden magazines. then, above the sound of the drill in the next room, they can hear me pulling the chain. waste is being flushed out to sea, but only to be recycled and brought back into the system. to a hindu that may just be an exercise in symbolism, mankind being born again into a never-ending loop of lunacy. i hope next time round i get a mother who gives me flouride.

[snowdrop]

Fantastic my love X X X X X
Gudrun

[smarcu]

Fantastic my love X X X X X
Gudrun

Geenius is he Gudnur. Now other wurd too him can derscibe. Plaese, moor give us Goeffrey.

[Oscotarach]

a dental patient is not necessarily a mental patient

despite knowing my dental surgeon is a nice lady, as soon as i sit in her chair it seems the law of physics goes haywire. the entire molecular structure of her face changes. soft feminine contours metamorphose into sharp chiselled features, flaring nostrils over thin cruel lips housing a reptile's tongue, impeccable alabaster-coloured skin is replaced with hideous red scales - and those calm reassuring eyes of hazel acquire the appearance of piercing flames that scorch everything they see. i swear i can also make out a couple of small horns protruding from her forehead - giving her the countenance of a goat. a pair of menacing canine incisors drip saliva as they stretch down from the corners of a repulsive mouth that emits a sulphuric stench. within seconds a smiling white-clad orthodontic practitioner mutates into the monstrous shape of the devil incarnate.

i used to wonder: is this reality or am i hallucinating? is this connected to quantum mechanics, a display of the instability of particle energy? has my consciousness been hijacked into hell? have i entered a territory inhabited by changelings like the incredible hulk and mr hyde? how could a little tray of shining stainless steel dentistry instruments turn into a workbench of rusty implements of torture? thumbscrews, hatpins, razor blades, meat hooks, piano wires, red hot tongs, cow prodders - you name it. how could a spotlessly hygienic dentist's room with flood-lighting transform into a shadowy chamber of horrors with cobwebs and rats?

although talking privately to a deity is not a pastime to which i normally subscribe, i confess that a prayer or two directed to the divine craftsman has been composed during such circumstances. i fall to my kneecaps and beg forgiveness for whatever sin or act of defiance was committed against the all-merciful architect of the cosmos. heavenly father, master of the universe, i admit i've been bad, but by christ i've paid for it. am i not but a weak mortal who has suffered all his life from dental phobia? i don't want to die, but if hinduism is right, and there is such a thing as reincarnation, i will be good next time. you mark my words.

the bible tells us that beneath the sheet on every deathbed awaits the grim reaper, that he will lead us along a corridor leading to an escalator operated either by an angel or a demon. we are either taken up to the penthouse or down to the basement. it's no secret that my ticket is illustrated with a toasting fork; everybody in the waiting room knows i'm petrified. they've seen me going nervously backwards and forwards to the lavatory. they sit there chatting about the weather, looking out the windows, thumbing through garden magazines. then, above the sound of the drill in the next room, they can hear me pulling the chain. waste is being flushed out to sea, but only to be recycled and brought back into the system. to a hindu that may just be an exercise in symbolism, mankind being born again into a never-ending loop of lunacy. i hope next time round i get a mother who gives me flouride.

Totally brilliant, Geoffrey. I am printing this out to read to the pupils in my class here at the Faculty as an example of how to write top quality literature. Really amazing!
Dr. Yorick Hunt

[dar]

I enjoy your writing more than the portrait paintings probably because I would like to see the words become a painting. The best of both worlds!

Not realistic but some sort of interpretation of how (say we have a phobia about jumping in the pool) and we become the sacrifice standing before the raging volcano ready to be tossed in by our parent (appearing as "the beast", or layed out on the dental chair to be sacrificed to the demonic tooth fairy, or standing in the corner trying to call for help while the original small spider becomes some prehistoric giant spider. Abstract maybe but still able to get the point across.

I always wanted to commission a painting of a naked woman wrapped in a giant penis and testicles and it would be up to the viewer to decide if she's embracing this monster cock or if she is being slowly strangled and held down by the giant balls. I don't think Dali used that image. I know; weird, but the image is the story of my life!

[Geoffrey]

I enjoy your writing more than the portrait paintings probably because I would like to see the words become a painting. The best of both worlds!

Not realistic but some sort of interpretation of how (say we have a phobia about jumping in the pool) and we become the sacrifice standing before the raging volcano ready to be tossed in by our parent (appearing as "the beast", or layed out on the dental chair to be sacrificed to the demonic tooth fairy, or standing in the corner trying to call for help while the original small spider becomes some prehistoric giant spider. Abstract maybe but still able to get the point across.

I always wanted to commission a painting of a naked woman wrapped in a giant penis and testicles and it would be up to the viewer to decide if she's embracing this monster cock or if she is being slowly strangled and held down by the giant balls. I don't think Dali used that image. I know; weird, but the image is the story of my life!

what a surprise and pleasure to wake up and discover so much interest in my work. dear snowdrop, smarcu, oscotarach and dar: i have to go out right now, but look forward to making a comment or two upon my return. until then, very best wishes to all four of you

[Geoffrey]

I enjoy your writing more than the portrait paintings probably because I would like to see the words become a painting. The best of both worlds!

Not realistic but some sort of interpretation of how (say we have a phobia about jumping in the pool) and we become the sacrifice standing before the raging volcano ready to be tossed in by our parent (appearing as "the beast", or layed out on the dental chair to be sacrificed to the demonic tooth fairy, or standing in the corner trying to call for help while the original small spider becomes some prehistoric giant spider. Abstract maybe but still able to get the point across.

I always wanted to commission a painting of a naked woman wrapped in a giant penis and testicles and it would be up to the viewer to decide if she's embracing this monster cock or if she is being slowly strangled and held down by the giant balls. I don't think Dali used that image. I know; weird, but the image is the story of my life!

what a surprise and pleasure to wake up and discover so much interest in my work. dear snowdrop, smarcu, oscotarach and dar: i have to go out right now, but look forward to making a comment or two upon my return. until then, very best wishes to all four of you

wonderful, dar. i feel the need to properly digest what is written here. it needs to be absorbed and allowed to mature in the back of my mind for a while so that i have time to mentally adjust to its content. -gx

[dar]

Meaning...I sound nuts?! I'll always feel comfortable sharing the odd flight of imagination with you G. No need to think about it. It's nothing serious.

[Geoffrey]

Meaning...I sound nuts?! I'll always feel comfortable sharing the odd flight of imagination with you G. No need to think about it. It's nothing serious.

no, not nuts at all!!! i love what you wrote. i want to think about it, and i want to treat it properly xxxx

[Geoffrey]

I enjoy your writing more than the portrait paintings probably because I would like to see the words become a painting. The best of both worlds!

Not realistic but some sort of interpretation of how (say we have a phobia about jumping in the pool) and we become the sacrifice standing before the raging volcano ready to be tossed in by our parent (appearing as "the beast", or layed out on the dental chair to be sacrificed to the demonic tooth fairy, or standing in the corner trying to call for help while the original small spider becomes some prehistoric giant spider. Abstract maybe but still able to get the point across.

I always wanted to commission a painting of a naked woman wrapped in a giant penis and testicles and it would be up to the viewer to decide if she's embracing this monster cock or if she is being slowly strangled and held down by the giant balls. I don't think Dali used that image. I know; weird, but the image is the story of my life!

hello dar. i am glad somebody likes reading my posts, so thank you for that! i like reading yours, too. they have substance, i can see there is a thinking person behind the words. yes, having a strong imagination is sort of like being in close proximity with an active volcano. the view can be educational, but it's a risky business. sometimes it's difficult to ascertain what is real. does a person who stops taking anti-psychotic medicine see reality? - an intriguing question. the freudian image you describe of male genitalia seems indicative of mixed sexual feelings - a combination of both pleasure and threat. enjoyment has to be paid for with suffering. the penis as both an instrument of gratification and pain. many females, both married and unmarried, have experienced the horror of an unwanted pregnancy.

no, i cannot recall dali as having used this image, and not bosch either (although bosch's work might be closer). i am not very acquainted with the biographical details of your life, dar, but the imagery you describe does suggest hard times. many things get pushed into the suitcase we carry with us from playschool to the old folks home, and it is up to us whether or not we open it on the way. stay as lovely as you are, great to have interaction with you again xxx