Every word- every elaborate concept in the English language- can be modified by and reduced to ‘FUCK.’
I like that very much about English.
However-
What kind of blog post would this be if I just- want you all to fuck right off into the fucking outer darkness of fucking fuck you fucking useless roostersuckers– for example?
I wish I could just skip over this writing business and transmit my anxiety-depression-rage-frustration- and occasional awe and elation straight into the souls of others.
Because I think I am a shit writer- my product is shit- and I am, worst of all, a shit salesman.
All this shit is only worth burying because it is too embarrassing.
I am a damned, embarrassing animal, chock-full of self-loathing. I should not exist.
There is some good news.
During March I’ve made more progress in my health journey!
It is slow going building my strength back up, and even slower going with flexibility, but I have noticed subtle improvements. It’s happening.
There is an ever present spine injury I have to keep working around. So no, it doesn’t feel very nice at all when I move. I have to take the sadomasochistic approach. As always. No fetish equipment required!
I keep thinking I should post more videos of myself attempting to be a mover once again. And then I overthink the hell out of it and I don’t. What would be the point?
You cannot see how I feel inside my body when I move. Certainly you cannot feel it yourself. Things that feel monumental (even catastrophic) to my musculature- to my very skeleton, look like nothing special at all on the outside.
I don’t know how to effectively share in the horror and amazement- and mostly horror- of being trapped inside this body I wear. It is frustrating.
Perhaps I need to make and give myself the award of most frustrated animal.
Any reason to celebrate, right?