Cosmogany Of Desire

Friday at 7:30am my alarm went off and I opened my eyes with regret. The sun was so bright and filled my room entirely. This is because I have no curtain over my window. The sun just splashes in with no respect for my moods or feelings in general. Stupid sun, how it mocks me. I would have slept in longer and wallowed in the memories of  the disapointing events of the night before. E had come over for dinner and left, much to my consternation. So the reason I was tired and depressed had nothing to do with a sex hangover and everything to do with the fact I cried and mumbled incoherently to Sojo till about 2am.

I reach for my phone and slide to the right to stop the alarm. This will teach my libido for coming back for a short visit. It seems masturbation is less of a bother than trying to navigate the minefield of sleeping with something I think is smart. Why do I always want to sleep with men who recommend impressive works of literature?  More on that another time. E deserves a post entirely dedicated to his particular set of baffling actions and words.


The reason I had set my alarm was because on this Friday, I had a test to get and it was a test I had never had before. The last time I saw my renal doctor, he had asked if anyone had ever mentioned any heart defects in me. I replied that no.  He gave me a referral to a clinic across from the Royal Melbourne Hospital. A clinic called Lake Imaging.  After putting off getting out of bed for an hour, I finally kick back the doona and after staring at the ceiling for a few seconds, I sit up.


I decide to wear the blue sweater that Leong’s sister got for me from Canada. I love it so much, it has a smiling fox face on the front. It is over sized so I wear black tights and short shorts with it. The sweater falls just below the short shorts so it looks like I am not wearing pants. I do not care what others say, one of my most loved fashion dos is the look of no pants look. I grab my bag with a book and my referral in it, put on my sunglasses and away i go.


The walk up sudney rd to my nearest and dearest cafe is eventful. A tall Indian fellow in black slacks and a dark blue shirt, falls into step beside me. ”Hello, darling. You look very beautiful today.” He says.

”Thank you very much.” I say without looking at him. He pulls out car keys from his pocket and stops beside a black car. ” Can I give you a ride anywhere?” He asks.

I do not stop walking and shout over my shoulder. ”That would be a no.”

I get my coffee and get the tram to the hospital. As I am waiting to cross a small side street, a van turns in and stalls a moment. The driver calls out to me. ”Hey. Hey. Cute girl. Hey. Hey. Cute girl. Hey. Hey.” He does this for ages and I continue to ignore him as he pulls ionto gear and drives off I hear him say non plussed. ” Oh never mind. then.”


It seems that going to get a heart test brings all the boys to my yard. Boys I have no interest in, I mean why would the cosmos send me a non creeper? That would be no fun for cosmos.  Lake imaging is on the 4th floor of a building and when I enter it is all new and sparse and hot. Oh god, it is suffocating, there is like no fresh air at all. A woman in her mid forties is at the front desk and she hands me a clip board with a pen and i bite back a sigh of exasperation. Another form to fill out in the exact same way I filled out forms for what seems like forever.  I hand her my rumpled letter from my renal doctor.


There is music being piped through the waiting area. Terrible music. Celine Dion. I sip my take away coffee and start to feel the familiar nausea rise up inside of me. Why do I continue to by coffee, when I know it makes me want to vomit halfway through finishing it? Because I like going to cafes and getting served by attractive young men who sometimes remember my name and wink at me.


I put the coffee down next to a pile of Home Design magazines and pull out my book to read. It is the book that E recommended. By a romanian philosopher called E. M Cioran.  It is called  A Short History Of Decay. I am loving it because it is divided into neat and fairly short sections, which are all entitled something clever and poetic like In The Graveyard Of Definitions or Celestial Dogs. Brilliant. Could it be possible that I did not really want to duck E but rather, fuck his mind? And that is quite difficult to do. I wish i could just want to shag a body for once and not be so goddamn cerebral about it all.

”Jessica?” A male voice breaks into my thought strand and I look up to see a man about my age with a mustashe. He is wearing a light blue button up shirt. I gather my stuff and stand up to follow him. He opens a door to a small room with a mirrow on the left wall and a small ledge directly in front of me. The ledge has some perfectly pressed white gown on the left side of the ledge.

”Take off your top and bra.” He tells me making the first of many statements that make me think that getting an Trans Thoracic Echocardiogram, could also be confused with narrative from a porn film.

”And put one of the gowns on.” He says, closing the door behind him.

I pick up one of the white gowns. They are huge. The hem of them falls to the ground and i could ride a motorbike through the arm holes. I remove my top and bra and put the gown on. It is awkward to reach behind myself and tie up the back on my own. When i step into the examination room. The man takes a look and says. ”The gown has to be on the other way. The opposite way to hospital gowns. I cannot get at your chest with the gown on you that way.”


I stand there and swiftly pull it around. Just as I start to worry about him seeing my breasts when I lay down on my back on the examination bed, he pulls out a towel. When I lay down he places it over my front. He sits at a computer type contraption and pulls out an implament that has a camera at the end. He rubs jell stuff over it and slips the implemant under the towel. ”Now just turn on your left side a bit and put your arm up”, he says kindly. He presses the end of the thing over my ribs and just under my breast. Sounds come out from the computer. It hurts a little as he is presses on my bony ribs and rolling the implement end around and up the rib bones. ”Your heart is beating.” He says. ”That is a good sign.”

”I gues there would be issues if it wasn’t” I say.

”I would say there would be less issues for you.” He says. ”No heart beat would mean no operations or anything.”

”Right, i would be a foot loose and fancy free zombie.” I giggle.

He continues to press hard on my ribs and i listen to the sound of my heart beating.

”Your heart was beating rather fast when you first laydown.” The guy said. ”was that because you were excited to see me?”

”HA. HA. Maybe. And also because you mentioned some discomfort and I got anxious.” I say. I did like his voice though.

”Got any plans for the weekend?” he asked.

”Sitting in the park with friends on Saturday, I think.” I say.  Hey, my heart beat sounds really wet.” I say.

”That is because it’s full of liquid.” He says.

It is darker and cooler in this room and I drift off for a moment. ”Ok,” he says after a while. ”I just have a couple more positions for you.”

tee hee.


I lay on my back and he presses the implement around my belly area.

”Im just going to press down quite hard here.” He says. I gasp a little as he does it.

”Your thought I was fibbing didn’t you.” He says. ”You thought I would not really press that hard.”

The implement could be better described as a camera pen. The round end rolls around over your skin and leaves the wet jell substance all over your skin.

”Do you work?” he asks me.

”I am a writer.” I say. ”I just had a book of poetry published.”

”What do you write about?” He says.

”Sex, surgery and the body.”

”wow.” He says. After a few more minutes, the test is over and I am told I can sit up now.

”I am all sticky.” I say as i use the towel to wipe away some of the excess sticky translucent jell substance. I do this as modestly as is possible.

”That is my gift to you.” He says.

”What a weird job you have.” I say with a laugh.

”I like it.” he says.

Sexiest. Test. Ever.