Blog entry

Why I have to do yoga

Song Of The Day: Lunatic Fringe / Red Rider
Word Of The Day: Jejunator / One who fasts

Spent the day going around and around on email and phone with music contracts. It was a sweet blend of contradictions, strolling barefoot on my emerald lawn, inhaling the crisp fall air and sipping ginger tea while I volleyed legal terms with consorts. I felt girlish, but I don't need fall for that. The chiffon boa and anal beads do it every time. Anyway...

Didn't sleep again much last night, probably doesn't help I haven't done yoga in like a week. My fucking pelvis continues to slide out of alignment, always rotating slightly down and to the right, like I'm always preparing to roll out of a parachute fall. Yoga is the only thing that seems to help, but what's up with this misalignment? I've been to the chiropractor twice and he's like "you should get that shit checked out." Other bone assemblies are easier to ignore or postpone addressing. When your finger feels bent, or your shoulders get knotty, you can work around it, but the pelvis is the foundation of the spinal column, it anchors all the other parts. I've spent a lot more time wondering why my pelvis continually drifts right than I have exploring potential remedies, and I'm happy to report those daydreams have born blame-fruit. I know who did this to me. I remember the exact moment my perfect skeleton was jigsawed. As with most of my persistent maladies (asymmetrical testes, synesthesia, priapism, and alopecia areola), it can be attributed to one of the bizarre golfing accidents of my youth.

(begin English accent)

I was but eleven or twelve in years, the awkward age in which a boy is beset with those unpredictable growth spurts which effectively sever the link between brain and body. With an altitudinous frame and maladroit gait, I was full of puberty and the promise of outdoor sporting, cheifly golf. My family was on holiday at a fine resort that summer, and it was the first day of our retreat. I was allowed to take a chum on the trip, and to spice things up a bit I had asked the most sinister adolescent in my entire grade to accompany me on the outting. He was rich, alluring, and save the acne and chronic sneer, quite dashing. Don't be mislead, there was nothing homosexual in play, just the usual boyish wrestling, some boxing in jest, and the occassional 'sword fight with happy endings' - all within the range of expected (Greek/Roman) behavior. What came as a surprise was his cruel betrayal, the shocking treachery I would suffer at the hands and... pole of this masquerading villain.

Arriving at the resort, we boys burst through the doors, running helter-skelter through the cabin, arms flailing willy nilly in a cacophany of riotous glee until my reproachful mother admonished us to take the folly out of doors at once! We feigned a deuce of injured frowns, then exploded in squelling delight and bounded out the back like gazelles. Catching our breath in the great expanse of nature behind the cabin, our lids grew slight as our eyes beheld a spectacle of wondrous rapture...

A golf course!

We quickly fetched some clubs, and made haste to the first tee box. It was there -I dupe yee nigh- the greivous transaction of brutality was set forth. My erstwhile chum was overtaken with his noxious motive. His very essence grew mucoid and nefarious, as in chilling calculation he positioned himself in proxy to my unsuspecting pubescent figure, and then did take a most overwrought swing with his one wood, landing its collossal head squarely astride my neck and collar bone. THWACK!!! All comportment shattered, my throbbing gullet erupted with a visceral...


My English accent was gone. What's more, my fucking neck was absolutely bashed and hammered, for real, ya'll. I writhed and shook on the cool grass while the enormity of this assault set in for both of us. I thought I was fucking dead, or dying, and when my "friend" inquired as to my condition, all i could offer was


And so it went. It wasn't until later, after the bones had grown back wrong, that I learned my collar bone had been broken. It is still broken to this day. And the broken collar bone has, very gradually, over decades, acted to cinch-up the entire right side of my body. It has tugged and lifted my muscles, tendons, and bones through every stage of my life until finally, even my blessed pelvis has turned a bit, as if to say

"Oh god, is that another one wood?"

And although I milked its beneficent gravity for years, not even my medically anomalous left nut can restore balance now, and I have to resort to yoga, regular yoga, and when I don't do yoga, it fucking suXX. I have YOU, to thank for that, Tiger....


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