Saturday, June 11, 2011


End of another week and I'm restless and unsatisfied. Yet again. Of course I know what it is. I know everything. All night long and every morning I have muscle pain between my shoulder blades. The attentive reader will recall that this is a long term thing, decades, really, early nineties. I try to press it out on the ground, stretch it, crack it, roll it out, bunch it, whatever. But I'm a guy who expects pain to come and never leave. And yet I think of myself as an optimist. Go figure. Someone suggested a massage, but that's so intimate. I don't even want to eat with company.

My general fitness training is going pretty well, not really focused, no direct goal, just overall improvement, which is nice but sort of a beginner mentality. I suppose I need something along a formal commitment and dedicated workout partner. I've neglected strength training, and that really is foundational. I suppose it's a function of my chronic depression, this devotion to neglect.

I would have liked to have had a larger family. Just the one son remains to me. I tried to have others, after a fashion, but that ship sank, and there weren't any survivors. So sad. The experience, I think, ruined me. Even the people I love, I keep at a distance. And I don't love many.

I'm so angry, I'm so filled with rage, suppressed, unrecovered from life's traumas and trials, that I just don't know what to do with myself. Get a massage, I suppose. Eat at a table with people. Play poker. But that's just things to do. I don't understand happiness. Is it supposed to last? I'm so tired of being this teenager. Growing up means letting go. But there's no one who's more loyal, or more stubborn, than I am. Not on purpose. I just can't forget, and I can't violate my conscience. So it's incomprehensible to me, how betrayal is possible. And that's how almost everything ends. In betrayal. Yet I am an optimist.

I write these pathetic self-indulgent mewlings as an attempt to purge. Like bailing out a boat. But as I said, the boat has already sunk. That doesn't mean I'll give up though. As an optimist, I refuse to acknowledge the concept of futility. So I keep stretching my back, bunching my shoulder blades, looking for the ache to go away.


1 comment:

bob k. mando said...

Someone suggested a massage, but that's so intimate.

chiropractors are somewhat less intimate.

as for the rest...

who am i to give advice?