The Neck & the Nipple
A hermitage is essential now and again and then again later on. I spent most of the weekend by myself, until yesterday when the ocean kicked my ass. It was good.
Saturday I woke up with this Neck Problem I get periodically. My spine begins to feel fragile and then with one slight movement there is a noisy creak, a spread of pain down my neck, across my shoulders, and sometimes down to my elbows. And I can't move my head. This was a bad one. This first happened when I lived in Iowa City four years ago. I've wondered if it's a result of being hit by a truck and thrown into the middle of an intersection, my head bouncing on the street. I don't think the Neck Thing happened before then, but my memory is questionable.
Anway, the first worst time the Neck Thing happened, I at first just couldn't move my neck. Then as I was putting away a Tupperware bowl in a cabinet above my stove, all the plastic bowls and such came spilling out. I jerked to catch them and tweaked my neck worse. Later that I day I was taking the trash out, during the 6-month long winter we were having; I slipped on the ice, jerked again, and ouch. The next morning when I tried to sit up out of bed, lightning pain jagged through my neck, shoulders, down my arms--and I collapsed right there. I couldn't move, not even to roll out of bed, for hours. I became pretty sure I was going to die there and couldn't even phone my mom to tell her. Eventually, however, I flopped and rolled over to my futon and put in Charlie Chaplin's Gold Rush, which I'd checked out of the library the day before. My first Chaplin movie. I propped myself up stiffly against two pillows, and Charlie made me laugh out loud. My savior, truly. After that I saw every Chaplin video the library had, and fantasized about inviting the dead Chaplin to dinner and conversing with him.
I was just writing to Kate about this movie, mentioning he made me laugh even when I thought I was going to die, and the next morning the Neck Thing happened again. The mind is a powerful thing. Call a thing up and it will be so. (Hear me: I want my poetry published in book form.)
So the ocean kicked my ass. And I liked it. I've only been in the ocean a few times. Each time it was a friendly place. However, where Mark and I were yesterday at Pt. Pleasant, the water was rough and the beach a steep drop off. The beast sucked me in again and again, and then picked me up threw me hard against the sand. It was like sledding uphill. I have sand wounds. When I was finally able to stand up my hair was a raggedy nest, my bikini top was half off, exposing my right boob, and the rest of my top and bottoms were packed with sand. When I was able to open my eyes an old man was standing in front of me watching me pull sand clumps away from my boob. He saw Nipple. Whatever, if you want to look go ahead, I thought; I was busy adjusting and dressing.
Saturday I woke up with this Neck Problem I get periodically. My spine begins to feel fragile and then with one slight movement there is a noisy creak, a spread of pain down my neck, across my shoulders, and sometimes down to my elbows. And I can't move my head. This was a bad one. This first happened when I lived in Iowa City four years ago. I've wondered if it's a result of being hit by a truck and thrown into the middle of an intersection, my head bouncing on the street. I don't think the Neck Thing happened before then, but my memory is questionable.
Anway, the first worst time the Neck Thing happened, I at first just couldn't move my neck. Then as I was putting away a Tupperware bowl in a cabinet above my stove, all the plastic bowls and such came spilling out. I jerked to catch them and tweaked my neck worse. Later that I day I was taking the trash out, during the 6-month long winter we were having; I slipped on the ice, jerked again, and ouch. The next morning when I tried to sit up out of bed, lightning pain jagged through my neck, shoulders, down my arms--and I collapsed right there. I couldn't move, not even to roll out of bed, for hours. I became pretty sure I was going to die there and couldn't even phone my mom to tell her. Eventually, however, I flopped and rolled over to my futon and put in Charlie Chaplin's Gold Rush, which I'd checked out of the library the day before. My first Chaplin movie. I propped myself up stiffly against two pillows, and Charlie made me laugh out loud. My savior, truly. After that I saw every Chaplin video the library had, and fantasized about inviting the dead Chaplin to dinner and conversing with him.
I was just writing to Kate about this movie, mentioning he made me laugh even when I thought I was going to die, and the next morning the Neck Thing happened again. The mind is a powerful thing. Call a thing up and it will be so. (Hear me: I want my poetry published in book form.)
So the ocean kicked my ass. And I liked it. I've only been in the ocean a few times. Each time it was a friendly place. However, where Mark and I were yesterday at Pt. Pleasant, the water was rough and the beach a steep drop off. The beast sucked me in again and again, and then picked me up threw me hard against the sand. It was like sledding uphill. I have sand wounds. When I was finally able to stand up my hair was a raggedy nest, my bikini top was half off, exposing my right boob, and the rest of my top and bottoms were packed with sand. When I was able to open my eyes an old man was standing in front of me watching me pull sand clumps away from my boob. He saw Nipple. Whatever, if you want to look go ahead, I thought; I was busy adjusting and dressing.
2 Comments:
Man, I was at Pt.P yesterday too! I could've seen boob, instead I just watched an old lady drag her ass up and down the boardwalk in fake UGGs. Really who wears boots to the beach.
Maybe dirty old men like him could wear boots to get from exposed nipple sighting to next exposed nipple sighting faster.
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