Go Darke

I burp. Politely though, micro-phoning my fist.

It’s a witches brew of raw herring, Korean red kimchi and sheep’s milk kefir. Ferment that combination in your paunch-pantry for a couple of hours and then crack the hatch and there are some pretty unique (some might say chewy) ‘texture’ notes to that venting.

I share because I don’t want to suffer alone. (my wife likes to promulgate that I don’t have to eat all this ‘gross’ stuff to be healthy, and this is all on me… she’s just lucky I don’t burp the alphabet anymore… or hotbox her with this)

My Christmas has been garbage. (he segued)

I feel like someone has taken a length of rebar, impaled me just left of my sternum and buried the pointy end somewhere behind my shoulder. Every time I cough or clear my throat too aggressively some magical force grips the other end of the rebar and violently jiggles it up and down.

Cracked. Broken. Torn. I don’t know. But definitely injured.

Also my hand is messed up. I’m not sure if this picture does it justice or not. Got caught inside someones Gi at jujitsu and rolled over it. Didn’t feel it at the time… whereas with my ribs, there was a distinct… *puts his index finger in his mouth and makes a popping sound*

I’ve been nursing my ribs all week. And really, I had this idea that I would just work out the kinks as I went. This has always been my strategy in the past… you know, before suddenly, at forty, things fell off the edge of the precipice. (Apparently I’ve reached the inflection point where chasing ibuprofen with Redbull can’t fix the problem)

THEN (to add to my lengthy list of woes)… trying to get down the grassy embankment onto the beach with the dogs this morning I slipped.

Imagine a black and white slapstick comedy of yore where someone gets airborne via a banana peel. That was me… onto my head. *insert suitable onomatopoeia*

Made worse by the fact that I did this in front of…. maybe two hundred people who’d gathered at 6am for a 10km fun run. Ha ha. The stairs were log-jammed and so I attempted the grassy, dewy and steep traverse, barefoot with two dogs mushing it for the beach. Anyways, picked myself up and wobbled down to the sand, crossed the stream and pretended like nothing had happened. (the sounds of ‘oooooh-daaaaamn’ still ringing in my ears)

The psychological damage was strong.

And maybe also the brain damage.

I’m feeling old. And fucked up.

+++