Throb

September

Funny how change happens. Life is a stack of mostly anti-climactic revolutions: Things that start out as a good way to spend a moment turn into lifestyles, and most of these eventually get squeezed out just as easily as they came in. It's the end of summer and change is in the air. You wake up one morning, super refreshed, take a deep breath and find yourself pulling out that song you almost finished writing, the painting that needs some love, the phone number of an old friend. What I'm not sure about is whether this is a learned behavior or some natural response to circadian cycles. Does one too many depressing winters teach you to do a hard reset every fall? Or are we hard-coded this way?

I'm playing again.

22 Step Program

Throbbing

My back is torturing with me, randomly twisting me from the inside. Some days I can't stand up straight. Other times live electrical wires fire down my leg while I try to sleep. My stance has become crooked and stooped. One of my legs is too short. One side doesn't stretch enough. I have a ridge in my spine. I've been possessed by a demon, but I'll be conjuring a serious exorcism very soon. It is time. I will rain the vengance of hell upon this bastard mofo and return triumphant. By whatever means necessary. Bad day becoming good.

I will stop being such a self-pitying, self-obsessed, non-blogging nerf-herder when that happens. You have my word. I'm really in a damn good mood, and it's time that the system got the message.