So the dominoes fall. The Middle East is going south, dicpotato after dicpotato, latest Kadaffy, off to get more plastic surgery, the Cat Lady of North Africa, like some sort of malignant sphinx in a loin cloth. By summer gas will be $12 a gallon. So much for the recovery. Chavez will be our new best fiend. Suck my oil. Say hello to my little friend. Feckless fools.
It came to me as a highly predictable bolt of lightning. Natural gas. I don't know the mechanics of it, but there are such engines, and there must be compressors you can hook up to the household line. How do you spell it ... cheep? -- cheap? Just google it. "Natural gas engine." It's not rocket surgery. We've got more of it than anybody. Seems obvious. Sort of a not-19th century fuel. Wouldn't it be nice to go back to not needing our enemies. Only Hitlers need their enemies. Normal people don't want to have anything to do with them. Hitler needed the Jews. We should not need the Arabs. Let's just need our friends. Deal?
I pulled a muscle in my lower back this morning. A few weeks ago my son did some sort of fitness assessment on me, and of course I'm amazing, although he hasn't given me the analysis yet. But there's a problem with my flexibility, and my muscles are absolutely full of knots. And today someone insisted on putting some pressure on the pulled spot, and that actuality helped a lot, and made me even more aware of how dysfunctional my dysfunctionality is. Touching me is like juggling a bag of marbles -- I squirm, and I'm tense. Jumpy and lumpy. I'm also itchy and scratchy. Yes, I do need a massage -- a series of them. Last time I had one was a chiropractor in Sydney 25 years ago, and that was just an assessment, lasted about 15 seconds. This is what wives are for. And friends, I guess. We find out who are our friends are when we're snake-bit in the butt. So far up which I am that I can see light at the end of the tunnel. Let's call it hope. Yes, we need friends.
There are areas I have sorely neglected. Flexibility and lumpiness are one of them. My income has taken a hit in the past year, never huge, but I have lived modestly for, well, always. But I could see going to a chiropractor and being cracked into place, or to someone who would gauge the lumps out of my musculature. When my son was little I used to have him walk on my back. Then he got too big. The circle of life.
Ah well. Just needed to vent. Stuck up my own ass as I am, sometimes I need to come out for air.