Ass chackra all fucked up and ready to go.

My back is at it again.

It happens once or twice a year. I do something wrong and then my waist sort of dislocates itself and I can't hold my body up straight, or walk very well. Sometimes it's milder and it goes away in a couple of days, sometimes it's more severe and lasts for a whole week. At least it seems to be getting better with time. The first time it happenned, I think six or seven years ago, I really couldn't stand up. I fell on my knees and then I had to crawl to my bed on all fours. The next day I could only walk around the house with one hand against the walls. And for the first few years after that, it happenned every few months and it was really bad.

I think it started when I hurt my waist at the gym, way back in '93 when I was a body builder (yeah yeah... no, I got no pictures from that time. Well, none I 'll post here anyway. I looked like a rock with a man-eating bush on top). I was doing some hack squats and didn't put on a belt (yes, that was very stupid, don't do it ever, OK?). Suddendly, I mostly felt rather than heard a noise like a reed breaking, somewhere at the base of my spine and I lost control of my legs for a moment. I didn't hurt but I got scared and stopped working out for that day. For a few years after that I was fine, until the day I fell on my knees.

This time, I was having a bit of pain for a couple days, then this morning I went to the conservatory to practice, as usual, but I decided to try a bit of double-bass drum fun. So I went to the next studio from mine and borrowed the bass drum from there. As I was carrying it over, I felt the familiar dislocation pain and after I was over playing I could barely stand. Hah. Talk about over-practicing...

Yes yes yes, I know... I have to see a doctor, she'll give me some physiotherapy, there's probably some surgery I could do, blah blah blah... Fuck that. I don't trust doctors. And I can't stand hospitals. I can't stand the thought. What thought? See, I feel better already. Whatever.

As I was inching my way home today, thinking I should maybe get a cane, for cases like this, and trying to figure what color and make would be more me, and pretending it might even be cool after all, I noticed a girl walking in front of me whose heels clicked on the pavement. I thought to myself "yeah, like, with a pair of those and my back like that, I 'd walk in real style". Hah. Fuck that too. I 'm sticking with my army boots.

Seriously, though. I know how it feels to be old. Really, not figuratively speaking. Every time someone says to me "but I thought you were only >insert extravagant bullshit age assuemed to be a compliment here<" I know how apperances don't matter one bit. Not when you know how your body feels. Feel free to take that out of context as far as you wish. This, after all, is a TG blog and the fairy tale of the little mermaid (you do know it's nothing to do with the Disney cartoon, don't you?) is ever fresh in our memories.

With every step she took towards her loved one, it was as if she was walking on a thousand knives that pierced her feet.

Hah. It's my back they pierce. I wish I had a tail. At least I could place the pain.

And, please, for the love of god... don't start about my coudalinni...