Bad history II

July 22, 2025

Following up on my 7/20 posting “Bad history”, the terrible tale of necrotizing fasciitis (caused by MRSA) in 2003 — now with details that have come out through discussions on Facebook (FB still works, but you have to delete most of the stuff that comes your way to get to actual postings by real friends). Material from these discussions, edited and amplified.

Maggie Tallerman (in the UK) opened the exchanges:

— MT > AZ: You didn’t say if the MRSA was a hospital-acquired bug, which is known for being a thing in this country (hopefully uncommon). I hope it wasn’t. Appalling.

— AZ > MT: It definitely was not. Probably acquired through garden soil — unexpected perils of being a gardener! — though that’s not sure. Not from a hospital or through sexual contact, in any case, since both were absent from my life between June 2003, when my man Jacques died, and November, when the NF suddenly appeared. It is, however, likely that my immune responses were muted by extravagant grief (and, before that, the toll of dementia caregiving).

In a sense I survived through the diagnostic skills of my family doctor, who reckoned, in a phone call, that there were three things that might be the cause of the symptoms that had suddenly appeared, that one was very rare but extremely dangerous, so just in case I had to meet him at Stanford Hospital immediately (and was delivered there by my department’s administrator). Within an hour I was in surgery, and so my life was saved.

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On the Z … Y watch

July 21, 2025

I am ever alert for words, especially names, with initial Z, even more with initial ZW or Z … W … And then of course Z … Y, for which ZIPPY (the Pinhead) is the standout name. And then the restaurant name Z & Y flashed by me in a Facebook ad (before it got deleted, like all ads). Not just a restaurant, but an excellent one, and in San Francisco’s Chinatown. From the street:


Z&Y, opened in 2008 by married couple Lijun Han and Michelle Zhang; Z and Y are the initials of Michelle’s last name and Chinese first name

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Bad history

July 20, 2025

A while back (7/10, to be exact), two Sacred Harp singers came by my house to pick up the printer’s plate for SH99 Gospel Trumpet in the edition we’ve been singing from for 34 years (a wonderful object that I was giving away to reduce my household belongings dramatically), and like the bright-eyed Mariner ensnaring the wedding guest trapped on his stone (who cannot choose but hear), I engaged them in an hour or so of animated chat, to relieve my loneliness, after which we sang three songs from that Sacred Harp.

In e-mail afterwards, thanking them for their friendship and forbearance, I asked them a strange question:

While you were with me, did you notice anything odd about one of my hands (my right hand, specifically)? Or about how I used my right arm?

One replied:

we both noticed several fingers were bent. I assumed this was from arthritis, so if there’s more of a story I don’t know it or I’ve forgotten.

I then told them a story that I was convinced I’d posted about, on Language Log or this blog, but apparently not, so now I’m now telling it to you too.

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Days of memory

July 20, 2025

🌝  that’s the emoji for the full moon with face — the “man in the moon” — to mark 7/20, Man On the Moon Day, the anniversary of astronauts walking on the moon for the first time, in 1969 (a day I remember well, as my little family was gearing up for the move from Urbana IL, where (clustered around our little portable tv) we viewed the event; to Columbus OH, in a trek from my first professor gig, at UIUC, to my second, at OSU)

But this posting is going to be devoted to a different day of memory, one that I let slip by on 7/17: John Lewis’s death day, now memorialized in my country as the Good Trouble National Day of Action.

From the New Black Voices website, “Good Trouble Lives On: Honoring Congressman John Lewis with a National Day of Action” on 7/17/25:

Congressman John Lewis [2/21/1940 – 7/17/20], the late civil rights icon and U.S. Representative from Georgia’s 5th District, remains one of the most enduring symbols of courage, resilience, and justice in American history. Known for his unwavering dedication to nonviolent activism, Lewis’ legacy transcends generations. As America continues to grapple with inequality, voter suppression, and systemic injustice, the call to honor his memory has materialized into an annual National Day of Action. This day celebrates Lewis’s life, legacy, and the enduring philosophy he popularized: making ‘Good Trouble,’ such as leading peaceful marches, organizing sit-ins, and advocating for legislative change.

… In the days following his death, activists, lawmakers, and communities across the country vowed to keep his mission alive. His call to “get in good trouble, necessary trouble” became a rallying cry. From marches to voter registration drives, Lewis’ passing reignited a national movement.

To preserve his legacy, the “Good Trouble Day of Action“ has been established as an annual event, observed every July 17, the anniversary of his death.

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Maybe it’s a plant thing

July 19, 2025

In  my 7/14 posting “Making a mango crazy in bed”,  a surprising mishearing on my part. The speaker said:

What’s a bedroom move that makes a man go crazy?

But what I heard was:

What’s a bedroom move that makes a mango crazy?

The (sex-infused) mangos just dropped in from the sky, bafflingly, with no justification I could see. (Intended [mæn.go] and perceived [mæŋgo] are very close acoustically, but mango makes no sense in the context. )

Then on the 17th it was kapok. Maybe it’s a plant thing.

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Does your hot dog talk?

July 19, 2025

Today’s Zippy strip:


(#1) I choose to understand hot dog in this context as a sexual metaphor, so I’m both enchanted and appalled by the idea of a world of talking hot dogs, all in conversations with one another (I am famously fond of penises, but still); meanwhile, Yocco’s was a feature of the sociocultural landscape of my childhood (in an area of Pennsylvania Dutch country much influenced by Philadelphia both linguistically and culinarily), though I early on cleaved to Nathan’s hot dogs (Coney Island wasn’t all that far away), as I still do

My own metaphorical hot dog (mhd for short)  is highly expressive, but (blessedly) not at all chatty. Though if my mhd could speak, it would have something of a (now old-fashioned) Philadelphia accent — with back notes of Pennsylvania Dutch English and a significant overlay of NYC Yinglish.

My mhd, like Yocco’s hot dog, has a crown (technically, a glans penis), but it has no discernible facial features, and certainly no mustache, that would be kinky.

Now, about Yocco’s.

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Triple art

July 18, 2025

From my 7/14 posting on this blog: my life has recently been extraordinarily difficult and extravagantly painful; and so it continues, with the added complications of medical appointments, on 7/14 and 7/16; a new helper / caregiver, starting on 7/15 and 7/17; and a series of computer disasters, one a day for three days (7/14 – 7/16) running.

But then in clearing out the innumerable closets, shelves, drawers, and storage spaces in this house, preparatory to moving, many months from now, to a much smaller apartment in an assisted living facility, I have unearthed two decorative artworks — of cross-stitching and Mexican folk pottery — recognizing and celebrating threesomes, more specifically the affectional and sexual triple of me, my wife Ann Daingerfield Zwicky, and my husband-equivalent / Ann’s lover Jacques Henry Transue, in the years 1975 through 1985 (when Ann died, and Jacques and I became just an everyday gay male couple). Both were presents: the cross-stitching of three monograms from the creator, our daughter, Elizabeth Daingerfield Zwicky; and the three pottery doves from my former UIUC student and our old friend David Stein, who found them in a crafts market in Tijuana during a day trip from San Diego that David took me on, all those years ago.

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On the ZW watch

July 17, 2025

It went past me briefly before I deleted it from my Facebook feed, but of course I caught the name; I’m primed for Z, and really primed for ZW:

ZIWI pet food

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Making a mango crazy in bed

July 14, 2025

My life has recently been extraordinarily difficult and extravagantly painful, but at the moment my fingers are up to a small amount of typing, so here’s an odd mishearing to amuse you. This posting is way gay and attentive to male bodies, and there’s a photo (hunky rather than raunchy, but it does involve ostentatious shirtlessness featuring prominent six-packs), so it will not be to everyone’s taste.

In a Facebook short reel that came past me this morning — I’m in need of distractions from the pain — we see two gay guys (both hunks in swimsuits, though of two very different body types), with gay guy A interviewing gay guy B:

What’s a bedroom move that makes a man go crazy? Show me with your hands.

The scene:

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St. Sebastian without the arrows

July 12, 2025

A surprise on my Pinterest  this morning: a sinesagittal St. Sebastian from Texan artist RF. Alvarez (who offers tender, communal gay machismo, which is Tex-Mex to boot):


(#1) Alvarez, St. Sebastian (2022), aka “Meet me under the pomegranate tree, St. Sebastian” (a self-portrait of the strikingly handsome RFA in the St. Sebastian pose, with a vulnerable but unharmed body, and steadily meeting the viewers’ gaze, conveying neither agony nor ecstasy); the figure here is hooking up with St. Sebastian, and he’s also mirroring St. Sebastian (with his hands behind his back, perhaps tied to a tree, only a bit of drapery barely covering his genitals)

But why a pomegranate tree (not part of Christian legend)? And the deep orange suffusing the figure’s entire body and filling all the background behind him and the tree — another pomegranate allusion (though pomegranate fruits and juice are garnet-red, not citrus-orange)? An allusion to the Greek myth of Persephone and her pomegranate seeds?

I’ve now looked at quite a lot of RFA’s paintings, and this one stands out from all the others, including his other self-portraits (for instance, Self-Portrait with Grandfather’s Hat (2023)). So it cries out for some explication.

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