It occurred to me the other day that there was never anything actually wrong with this platform. I moved on from it because the internet moved on. Every few years for the last decade-plus I have moved to a new platform: Tumblr, Medium, Substack. But the work of writing is the same -- the writing that needs doing is the same -- and I've found myself not doing it much over the last few years. I have trouble to write. Also, it is important that I write. The other day I realized the platform on which I do it doesn't matter at all. People who need to read this will read it.
Also, I think most people I know won't follow me back here -- really only the truly devoted. That will allow me to be a little bit more open than I otherwise would be. It's not that I mind people close to me knowing what I'm going to write about; it's just it isn't stuff I say to people other than my wife.
About 90 seconds ago, I did the following: rolled over my right hip and opened every glute muscle I have conscious control over -- as if I was melting them -- until I ran into a few right at the bone that I don't. Now I'm rolling around on them, trying to define them, see where they go, see to what they respond. In a few minutes, I will have new muscle I didn't have those minutes before.
This caused a chain reaction going up my body which will eventually caused my shoulders to completely reset, and the middle of my spine to pop back (almost) into place. I've still got a little bit of a twist left in my core -- a little bit of a thing to think about. Not much. But not none.
It's possible you don't understand what I just said, or it's maybe that you can't picture it. What's happening is that my body is untwisting. It was very twisted and it hurt a lot, for a long time. I'm pretty sure this happens to everyone, eventually, to greater or less extent (it's what gravity does) and I'm pretty sure almost nobody knows it. Think about your body right now, physically. Does stuff hurt? Knees, shoulders, back, whatever? Do you have a name for it? You might call it Stenosis, or Arthritis, or Enflamed something. Or you might not, it might just be pain. You know what that is? It's twisting. Torque. Your body is twisted.
To tell you why I know this I have to go back more than 25 years to two events. The first was meeting my wife; more about her in a moment. The second was when a guy I'll call Garvey walked drunkenly up to me at my 27th birthday and shoved a bag of weed in my pocket. Garvey was an erstwhile co-worker; he was cool and, under it, unfailingly kind. I haven't seen him in years but I think about him all the time. I realized at some point back then he must have looked at me, his coworker, and thought, "You know what that guy needs? That guy needs to get stoned." Garvey, that was a good thought. Wherever that thought came from, make note of it. That is exactly what that guy needed to do.
I met my wife at the University of Delaware English Department Christmas Party in 1999. We met in line for drinks; I was into amaretto sours at the time and she thought that sounded good so she ordered one too. You know that scene in Gilmore Girls where Lorelei meets early career Jon Hamm in line and there's only one glass of red wine left and they banter over it? It was like that. She was living with another guy at the time, so it'd be another two and half years before we could date (we moved in together six months after that, and were married in another two. In retrospect I'm embarrassed that I didn't ask her to marry me, like, after our first date. It was obvious).
Anybody who meets my wife can tell almost immediately that she's dynamite. She's funny and smart and cool and everybody likes her. We say now that we loved each other before we met. That is genuinely what it felt like (and it also felt and always feels like Destiny). I think a simpler (more plausible?) explanation is that we had friends in common, and they'd mentioned us to each other many times before we ever met and we heard within their words that they liked and esteemed the other one of us. So we met with expectations high; in time high expectations were met.
I should say (if you don't already know me and know who she is) that my wife is, now, kind of medium- famous (for being a novelist). There's a non-zero chance you've heard of her and/or know who she is. I should also say that the moment I met my wife I could see immediately who she was and who she would be and the only question I had to answer right then was if I was worthy of her.
The following May the bag of pot went into the bureau drawer at home and I forgot about it for awhile. I had done pot a couple of times in my life and it had mostly done nothing for me. Certainly not enough that I was willing to go through the necessary hoops to acquire any. Some time many months later I remember it was there, and maybe I was bored. I started getting high and sitting in coffee shops doing crossword puzzles. It was glorious--seriously, do crosswords while you're high and observe that part of your mind working. It's amazing. In time, getting high was the way I did my work.
The other thing that was true when I met my wife is that I was in a lot of pain. My body hurt. I never said this to many people and even now I don't think most people understood what I was or am saying. I hope to your god that you don't know what I'm talking about. And if you do, hello. I'm really sorry. Also, welcome. You're in the right place.
My body had been hurting for about four years at that point, and by that I had long since realized that I was in for the long haul. Like, I had realized this was maybe the way I was going to feel for the rest of my life. Again, I hope you never have to contemplate this, at least not until you reach very old age. It's not a thing you should be contemplating in your 20s.
Don't worry. This story is pretty long, but it has a happy ending. It's been 30 years and I've worked my way out of that pain. I've understood it. I can (I think) say some things about it.
I can also get high like you wouldn't believe. This is going to be the story of all of that.
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