Saturday, March 15, 2008

Too much

Dancing doesn't destroy my life this time, I mean the next day my shoulders are burning and I'm completely exhausted, but my sinuses stay stable and the pain goes away. The main problem is that my sleep gets so much worse, worse I guess because I'm up too late on the night I go dancing body relaxed but mind pulsating and then once that happens my sleep doesn't get better. But anything can do that.

Today is the dentist, remember the dentist is what set off my pain last time, made it worse than it's been in years. First it was giving feedback on two manuscripts, then editing my own, then the dentist, getting my face fucked really hard in Lafayette Park which didn't hurt at the time it felt good but then there’s after, carrying a box -- the ingredients to a nightmare. So I'm worried about the dentist, luckily I tell him beforehand that last time I ended up in a lot of pain, so then I get up and walk around and do feldenkrais movements every 10 minutes or so I think that helps. When I leave I actually feel calm, over to get some groceries, I'm almost out of grains but it always seems like I'm carrying so much less when it's rolling around in a cart and then I get outside and what the hell this bag is ridiculously heavy. So then I hurt my body, I mean probably it's already hurt but now it's definitely hurt, first my hand but that goes away actually. Then shoulders, I jump in a hot shower to try to calm things, and after I eat I can't help dancing a little, dancing because my brain doesn't work I'm exhausted from another night of terrible sleep and I don't know I just need to escape for a few minutes.

It’s the new song that's driving me crazy, it's the even bass almost like a clap or suspense in a movie but more regular then a whistle on top, yes a whistle and then just one word: unh. Unh. That's it. Like you're feeling it, the whistle over bass, and then hands on hips turn head to the side, unh.

Dancing actually doesn't hurt, that's what I'm thinking I mean it doesn't hurt more than I already hurt. It's so exhausting trying to keep track of everything, so hard not to get upset at myself for doing something simple like getting groceries -- what the hell were you thinking, why did you get so much? Why did you get so much when you were actually feeling okay, maybe things would be okay if you didn't get so much? That's what's going on inside my brain.

Actually I always get too much, because I'm thinking when will I be back? Groceries run out so fast, and then I have to fuck up my body again. These days I get produce delivered, probably I need to figure out how to get the rest delivered also, although I'll admit that I like those random social moments in public -- sometimes groceries facilitate that. Like, the other day when I was standing in line at Real Foods or no I wasn't standing in line I was talking to that boy who I asked out on a date, the one who’s only dating bio-boys who identify as bio-boys, remember he actually said that -- I mean on myspace, since that's the only way he gave me to get in touch. Anyway I'm chatting with him because for some reason I'm friendly to people who are shady to me and maybe he didn't even mean to be shady I don't know -- he's applying for a job at a bank, and the woman who's next in line wants two receipts for $4.26 each, she's traveling with a friend and she's sick of paying for everything -- that makes sense, right? I say of course it makes sense, who wants to pay for everything? She's getting bread and cheese, she looks outside to her SUV, I'm getting wired I say can I get a ride? Just a few blocks away. She says as long as you don't mind dogs.

So then the boy at the register hands me a flyer for his show and I'm rushing out to the SUV, a second blond woman in the driver's seat and sure there's a big dog in back, but no one mentioned the driver would start smoking as soon as the car pulls away. I open both windows, and hope for the best -- these two are going to veterinary school in Southern California, the one from Real Foods says: we’re living in lovely Pomona, but we’re from Northern California. I say what's Pomona like? The driver says oh, it's ghetto -- we live in Marina del Rey, which is a little nicer. Or something like that. A concentrated social engagement and then it's over, not long enough to get me exhausted except when I get too much to carry or someone’s smoking. I mean I'm exhausted. And I just said that I always get too much.

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