The Franks of Red and Blue Universes have posts today conCERNing the dreadful events of last night in Manchester…
Me? I thought I’d mention the miraculous escape of the ice cream parlour patrons this morning on Southend Seafront…
*The car is inside of there, Clicky…*
… And the passing of Sir Roger Moore, a poster of whom adorned my bedroom wall when I was but a slip of a girl. Not because he played The Saint or James Bond, but for his role as another Englishman… with an American friend…
*Most evocative theme tune EVAR, Clicky…*
There now follows a new missive from my American friend, Cade, The Okie Devil and Freak Of Nature…
Aaaaight…here’s the dealio.
When you restrict, constrict, inhibit, prohibit, cut-off, or in any other way via any means, limit the function of a membrane…the membrane stops behaving as a membrane and/or as that membrane would/should. So…the question is, does the membrane at some point “regain its normal function”?
Welp, not if the membrane is subjected to the same or similar day in and day out. There’s gonna be some adaptation required there up and down the line over time. Perhaps even mutation to accommodate the change and changes. See how fucked up shit can get real quick like?
Is that clear enough?
Q: What happens when a membrane twists or gets twisted?
My back “went out” on Sunday when carrying in some water jugs for whatshername. It was a little better today, but I feel the tell-tale pull and pulls going on back there (no pun intended).
I was sitting playing Plants vs Zombies just now, and stretching my back, legs and feet as I usually do while sitting there doing nothing…and the pull in my feet and ankles is incredible. I really wish that I was able to take some decent pics of my feet and ankles to better relate what is going on…but alas…I cannot.
Anyway…I got to thinking about these feet of mine, and how the top 10,000 layers of skin feel about as tough as Alligator skin. Not that I’ve ever petted an Alligator, but I did have one splash water on me while fishing one day.
Anyway…I’ve had some vicious injuries to my feet and legs both internal and external, and was still required to wear shoes and socks because I still had to go to school. Being a stupid kid is no excuse for missing school. But sometimes, I had to really work and endure a lot of pain to get my shoes off, and especially to get my socks off. Typically, the socks were melded to my skin via processes at work to try and repair the abrasions, and had long since dried in some spots. Later, my calves would ooze and my mother would have to literally rip my socks off. I wonder how strong skin is. I wonder how strong the bonds that bind the skin and skin cells to each other are.
I wonder how much longer this paragraph is gonna be.
As I was sitting there tonight, I was doing my usual jumble in my head trying to think of what was pulling where, where it hurt the most, where it hurt the least, and trying to associate these things with injuries that I’ve gotten over time. Not to mention trying to reconcile these injuries with each other over time, as well as any post-trauma injuries that I have sustained from my own body attempting to adjust to the changes in order to keep itself together.
Why do I mention these things?
Because for the first time in my entire life…I have color in my face and cheeks, and that color is not yellow…its red. My hands have started to do the same over the last year or so…not white, nor yellow, nor white and/or yellow…but pink and red. There is still plenty of whites and yellows in there, but the presence of red and pink, and the ability to move my hands a bit in ways that I have not been able to move them in for some time, instills in me…hope. Hope that I have done some things correctly over the last 10 years of this journey. But more than that…that I can pass some of this on.
Yeah…when my pants used to stick to me? That was motherfucking MURDER!!! It only happened a few times…but that was enough. I guess these pant lines at the waist aren’t such a great idea over the long haul afterall, eh? Nevermind having your junk crammed into jeans with a seam that could cut steel running right up the middle of your ballsack and penis. No wonder my balls hang to the fucking floor when I take my jeans off. It’s akin to somehow wearing a shoe on your crotch. I can only imagine what women endure.
I guess I’m still working on the ol’ noggin with respect to the scalp and how some of my head injuries have healed and pulled in relation to other injuries. The head is rough since it’s so hard to see. But I’ve gone through prolly 50 mirrors over the last 5 years trying to figure it out. The head and the back are toughies. And of course…the….erm….”nether regions” that motherfucking NO ONE wants to look at.
I did notice that the “Head and Shoulders” brand of dandruff shampoo that whatshername buys has changed their labeling to read…
“#1 DERM Recommended.”
I guess they couldn’t get both “dermatologist” AND “recommended” in the same space, so they truncated. Or maybe they are taking labeling liberties. Or both/all. I dunno. I don’t use it.
I bet I’ve looked pretty goddamn ridiculous at times, alone in my room with a mirror between my legs, 5 lamps around me, trying to see what in the FUCK is pulling and tugging down there and why. I can’t do anything really about whatever is going on inside of me where I cannot see. But I CAN do something about the outside of me, and work on figuring out how that relates to what is going on inside of me.
And I've done some of that.
I think fasting and taking care to exercise a little differently than we are told to has helped immensely in this regard. Basically, if it’s an exercise that I would in no way be able to duplicate or would experience in the course of my day to day life? I don’t do it. That means walking, and a shitload of it. That means sitting, and a shitload of it.
Yeah…lots of stretching too, but not in any organized fashion. I’m way too beat up for that, or Yoga or anything event remotely “organized” in some modality for normal people. I’m far beyond that, and that’s OK. I’m still the same ol’ me…just…kinda packaged different. Those 2nd-Degree burns I got on my shoulders that time sure left a lot of huge-assed freckles. I wonder if there was/is any original tissue/tissues in those freckles. As in, some tissue from before/during/after phases of recovery as the blisters swelled and popped and bled.
It’s rough trying to sleep with 2nd-Degree burns on your shoulders and neck. It’s rough trying to sleep with 1st, 2nd & 3rd-Degree burns on your legs, feet, arms and face. I’m lucky that it happened when I was so young. Lots of time for those scars and scarring to stretch and expand and fade as I grew.
I have no idea why I’m using pics from the movie “Army of Darkness” here. But I am. I guess I needed a little “Ash” to perk me up a bit. I feel awful. My spine feels like its doing a tug-of-war with some remote black hole on the other side of the fucking Universe.
I wonder who is "winning."
I weighed myself today.
I weighed 227.2 pounds.
I’m quite dense for a dude that is only 5’11”.
That’s all I got for now.
^Dwight Yoakam – “Honky Tonk Man” (Official Music Video)^
^Dwight Yoakam – “Guitars, Cadillacs” (Official Music Video)^
^Violent Femmes – Good Feeling^
^Ministry – Burning Inside (with lyrics)^
*/Quizzical expression… Butt that’s old news, Clicky…*