November 19, 2003

  • The chiropractor adjusted me 4 times today, with instantaneous quasi-electrical success.  Though I'm still sore, I can once again touch the ground while standing up, whereas this morning (and for the past week) I couldn't even bend 45 degrees forward (or sneeze) without spastic wincing. 

    I hadn't even been able to look at myself in the mirror—in the eye—for the past week, (since the tree fell on my house  last Thursday and I attempted unwisely to maul it away single-handedly), because of the self eye-to-mirror unacknowledgeable pain I was nonetheless oozing into the oospehre. 

    But today, returning home from the chiropractor, I was able to smile at myself, in joy, in the bathroom mirror once again.  I feel whole once more and no longer hurtingly and unlubricatedly robotic.  I never before realized how dominating of heart and soul that the infliction of sustained, chronic pain could be (a la Rush Limbaugh??).  I always styled myself adjustingly anti-pain and pre-emptively 'ultra-rugged'.  But never realized that my ‘ultra-rugged’ implied the inverse correlate of all sensitivity.

    Now I feel kick-ass (almost, yet sensitive) once again!  For the past week, I couldn’t even imagine ‘kick-ass’.   The softest face of the plushest ass imaginable, then, seemed cognitively too hard a barrier to kick, or press, or even sensuously impinge upon.   Damn, an ass a week ago seemed an unbreachable barrier, and I was a total loser unkickable-ass Moses-type excluded from the ever-luscious Promised Kickass Land.

    But, today!  Ha!  I feel so good I’ll kiss your ass.  I’ll smooch your donkey!   Or perhaps simply snuggle your restless, less-than-euphoric euphemism.  For real, when’s the last time your bare-nekkid euphemism got kissed lately ? !

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