this ache

I got Ben-Hur going. it’s the chariot race scene right now. have you ever seen this movie? holy shit.

it’s pretty spectacular. six or seven four-pair teams of horses, thundering around a huge Roman-circus set. chariots flipping. stunt men dragging. dummies getting stampeded. it must have been pretty wild to see this in the theatre. I glanced at the Wikipedia page on the movie, and they spent a goddamn fortune in money and effort to put this scene together. Jesus. Charlton Heston and company are just running roughshod over everything.

I’m glad I hit the audio/visual section up at the library last week, because I have gone through a lot of DVDs today. I skipped work again, laid up with a back ache. and yeah, that’s a thing; the back ache is a legitimate -ache. I ranted about this earlier, and that got me far.

but believe me, it’s no joke. so much is it not, in fact, that I’d even say that every day free of back pain is a goddamn gift.

pain is not easy to remember, Mar said to me tonight. while that might not be true for everyone, it is for me. a couple of years ago my right ankle went completely to jelly for about a week; I now give it no special treatment. a decade ago I was fitted with non-permanent crowns on my front two teeth; I still don’t floss nearly as much as I should. I have recurring back pain and enflamed it yesterday on a run; only two weeks since the physical therapist said I could jog again. I pushed it, and I knew better, and I pushed it anyway. all of that moaning I did six weeks ago was completely out of my mind.

and now here we are.

yes. here I am, laid out in an awkward position on the couch again. lots of uncomfortable positions these days. brought on by too much reaching, too little forethought. at some point, I’m gonna have to own up to my mistakes and learn from them. because I won’t sleep well tonight. this ache throbs.

so I’ll tell you this much, ol’ buddy: I’m not doing this again.

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2 comments so far

  1. mary jane on

    I’m glad you’ve finally made it off the couch. If only you your own personal stretcher/masseuse. Man, that would be pretty bitchin.

    • mary jane on

      Had*


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