PAIN
Definition:
"First attested in English in 1297, the word peyn comes from the Old French peine, in turn from Latin poena meaning "punishment, penalty"(in L.L. also meaning "torment, hardship, suffering") and that from Greek ποινή (poine), generally meaning "price paid, penalty, punishment"."
Interesting. . .punishment is a theory for pain. At least in its origin of the word.
Certainly I'm not one to disagree, considering the life I've led and the sins I've committed in flagrante dilecto, or whatever. . .I deserve whatever comes my way, I suspect. God knows I've been flagrant in my "Dilectos" throughout my life! But at least, they've all been "delicious" in my flagrancy! (Pardon. . .)
I just don't want to have to deal with it, now that I'm older and have some more free time to "play" but can't because of that "pain" thing. . .And, besides, I've straightened up in so many ways. . .except for my back.
So now pain is an issue. And appears to be a MAJOR looming issue at my age, in my life. What to do?
So, I look up treatments for pain on Google. . .And here it comes. . .The list begins. . .
1. Exercise.
This is true. I go to the gym almost daily and it is my experience that stretching, exercising my Core and just getting my fat in gear helps me through the day! Pain in the ass it is but undeniably a good thing to do. Damn! I'm lazy. Once a week ain't good enough! And that's the Truth!
2. Fish Oil.
Known for its anti-inflammatory properties, I can't tell you a thing about it. I just don't usually eat fish. "Don't know about it," if you catch me off-guard. . ."Fuck it," if you catch me just waking up. . ."Fish Oil Wackos" if you catch me in a bad mood. . .
3.Turmeric.
Often found in spicy foods, which I love, but when I read this, my response was, "??" And then, to myself, I said, "Bullshit" But my search for pain management has led me to extreme corners of rationality to control it. I just may wind up eating fish-smelling spicy bugs just to relieve my distress! All avenues are open! Honest! I can believe in spicy foods if I have to!
4. Reservatrol.
Found in red wine, grapes and berries, this just may be my treatment of choice. Though effective in trace elements, I find it particularly useful in massive doses of comatose-inducing dosages of multiple bottles at a time. There are residual side effects, however, like, waking up on the Ohio Turnpike with a strange woman at your side, handcuffed to the steering wheel, praying that she has the key to the cuffs and the key to the car. With its counter-intuitive side-effects, it's probably a chemical to be ingested less than that turmeric thing. . .Though, I'll admit to liking wine more than spicy foods. . .medicine is Hard, sometimes!!
5. Heat Therapy.
Now this is interesting! They say using heat and cold therapy are time honored ways to reduce inflammation. And, especially, just after an injury, ice is the preferred treatment to reduce inflammation. To which, I add my personal commentary: "Bullshit!" I HATE cold! Any Time! But they say if you have lingering back spasms, "suggesting a warm shower," perhaps with a warm body, (but that's just my additive. . .) but NEVER an Ice Pack! Boo!!
6. Meditation.
And this is my nemesis. It is an unmistakable fact that meditation works, according to the literature. But I have NEVER meditated that I know of, - Hell, I'm not sure I've ever had a thought! - and certainly not in public, and, if you ask me, I don't even know how! And that's the kicker! They say you don't have to know anything. Just meditate, thinking about anything, and the results are undeniable. . .You hurt less!! ??? What, I'll wake up and find I've soiled myself?? Lovely.
The last time they picked me up on the street uttering, "Ohmmm. . .Ohmmm,. . ." It cost me $4,000 and 12 months of probation to get it removed from my record! (See No. 4 above.) The cat STILL doesn't trust me completely. (My dog would, but he died. The Good Ones do.)
This (Meditation) is the area I have to explore! I can't drink more wine, I can't stand to eat more fish, I don't have time to go to the gym more than I do, and if I eat more spicy food, I'll have to invest in a steel toilet with my stomach, and I damn near fry my back every chance I get when I turn my car seats on "HEAT!". That means, I gotta meditate more!
"Mind over matter" is a secret that my cousin Joe (psychologist) told me about 30 years ago. And, damn!, he was right?!?! Where's his number? . . .
Wednesday, August 31, 2016
Saturday, August 20, 2016
Owners Manual
I lost my Owner's Manual. You know, the one the hospital gives to your parents when you're born that spells out the rules for the operation of "Little Person." I, of course, have never seen it, but I know it exists because my parents quoted it to me all the time I was growing up. I never saw it but I KNOW my parents had one.
I asked my daughter, Bree, if I could see hers, and, of course, she denied ever having seen it, though I hear her quote from that booklet every time I'm with her and my granddaughter. It's real! I KNOW it!
Though, today, it must be in a different form. Sixty-six years ago, it was probably mimeographed, stapled in the top left corner, four inches thick, but, of course, it had to be really thick to cover all the phrases parents need to use to get through childhood.
Nowadays, I'm sure it's in micro print, and it's gotta be at least bilingual in Spanish and English, and, if anything like my computer handbooks, another 10 languages, including Portuguese, Urdu, Swahili, Japanese, what have you. And if you turn it upside down and read from the back, you have another 10 languages waiting for your enjoyment!
And probably it's written by the same Japanese guy that admitted taking 2 years of English in High School so he's assigned to writing the instructions for the darned thing so you get these impossible phrases like, "Once the baby has dropped from the blob above, you must invert and swat with force to accelerate the intake of air."
And when this poor Japanese guy submits his prose to his boss, his boss says, ,"OK, We'll insert some stupid stick figure drawing to illustrate something and make them think they're too stupid to understand simple English." And so they put in a random stick-figure series of pictures of some guy building a dog house. "There! That should quiet the sonsabitches!"
But today, it's gotta be in color, and accessible on-line We've all seen it, right?
My parents are gone now so I have no idea where they put that Manual. I'm sure it's in my "Stuff" somewhere. I've gathered my mother's things after she died, after she gathered my father's things after he died. And I've thrown very little away. (Much to my wife's frustration! Actually, I think that may be one of her "Anger Buttons.") But, still, I've not found that damned Manual!
But, when and if I do find it, I'm gonna page through it to the Index, first thing, and look up:
Women
Troubleshooting . . .
Anger Buttons. . .
Not because I want to press them, but, rather, for the opposite reason. After all these years, I sorta know what I have to do to get those buttons pressed.
In the day-to-day living with a woman, you learn what you have to do to get things done, so I have "an Idea" of what I am doing to move things along.
But!, what I really want to know is where those damned "Anger Buttons" are so I don't press them by mistake. I honest to God have no idea what's going to set her off and I would really like to know where those damned buttons are so I can just stay away from them when I need to! Wouldn't that be convenient and, like, smart?!?!
I have this sneaky, and sinking, feeling that if I ever find my parents' Manual they got when I was born, that mimeographed Index page will be well-worn, dog-eared and that, supposedly random, stick-figure drawing of building a dog house was actually intentional. My dad died young And I think to myself. . .
All roads lead to dog houses. . .
Sigh. . .
I asked my daughter, Bree, if I could see hers, and, of course, she denied ever having seen it, though I hear her quote from that booklet every time I'm with her and my granddaughter. It's real! I KNOW it!
Though, today, it must be in a different form. Sixty-six years ago, it was probably mimeographed, stapled in the top left corner, four inches thick, but, of course, it had to be really thick to cover all the phrases parents need to use to get through childhood.
Nowadays, I'm sure it's in micro print, and it's gotta be at least bilingual in Spanish and English, and, if anything like my computer handbooks, another 10 languages, including Portuguese, Urdu, Swahili, Japanese, what have you. And if you turn it upside down and read from the back, you have another 10 languages waiting for your enjoyment!
And probably it's written by the same Japanese guy that admitted taking 2 years of English in High School so he's assigned to writing the instructions for the darned thing so you get these impossible phrases like, "Once the baby has dropped from the blob above, you must invert and swat with force to accelerate the intake of air."
And when this poor Japanese guy submits his prose to his boss, his boss says, ,"OK, We'll insert some stupid stick figure drawing to illustrate something and make them think they're too stupid to understand simple English." And so they put in a random stick-figure series of pictures of some guy building a dog house. "There! That should quiet the sonsabitches!"
But today, it's gotta be in color, and accessible on-line We've all seen it, right?
My parents are gone now so I have no idea where they put that Manual. I'm sure it's in my "Stuff" somewhere. I've gathered my mother's things after she died, after she gathered my father's things after he died. And I've thrown very little away. (Much to my wife's frustration! Actually, I think that may be one of her "Anger Buttons.") But, still, I've not found that damned Manual!
But, when and if I do find it, I'm gonna page through it to the Index, first thing, and look up:
Women
Troubleshooting . . .
Anger Buttons. . .
Not because I want to press them, but, rather, for the opposite reason. After all these years, I sorta know what I have to do to get those buttons pressed.
In the day-to-day living with a woman, you learn what you have to do to get things done, so I have "an Idea" of what I am doing to move things along.
But!, what I really want to know is where those damned "Anger Buttons" are so I don't press them by mistake. I honest to God have no idea what's going to set her off and I would really like to know where those damned buttons are so I can just stay away from them when I need to! Wouldn't that be convenient and, like, smart?!?!
I have this sneaky, and sinking, feeling that if I ever find my parents' Manual they got when I was born, that mimeographed Index page will be well-worn, dog-eared and that, supposedly random, stick-figure drawing of building a dog house was actually intentional. My dad died young And I think to myself. . .
All roads lead to dog houses. . .
Sigh. . .
Saturday, August 13, 2016
Gnats! Everywhere, pesky GNATS!!
The creativity process is not an easy birthing. And, I guess, for you and me, I have absolutely NO time frame I'm under to produce something I would want you to read.
I have no editor, other than myself, and no advertisers clamoring for a "product." But, I do have "you." All of you. . .individually, meekly asking, "When are you going to write something?" "What's next?" "Think of anything, yet, you "DesertHead?" "I keep clicking on LongSeason and I get nothing. Did you pay your cable bill?"
And I find that charming, actually, and complimentary.
Except, one "push" I received was from a dear friend, who asked, "I hope you're not dying of anything sooner than you were expecting and that's why you're not writing. . ."
Um, and to that, I can honestly respond, "Nope! I'm dying right on time! Yup! Absolutely, I'm On Schedule!"
Shithead.
I was unhappy with LongSeason. Not for what it was, but for what it wasn't. It wasn't the literary gem I'd envisioned. I thought I could put out "Dave Barry" blurbs like rabbits produce turds. And I can't.
To be honest, it's HARD! To think of something that doesn't bore the hell outta me, and spend the time to "Hunt and Peck" my way through the thought to put it on the computer, and then, going beyond, what might not bore the hell outta you?! Well, It's hard. That's what I'll call it now. "Hard." At times it took on the "Impossible" moniker, but we'll let that alone.
Though, I think I've gotten better at it, but that's just because I've gotten more used to sitting by myself in my dark computer room with an LED lamp, by myself, with my pissed wife, in bed, waiting for me to, "Jesus, Get Creative, would you, and come to bed, you Idiot!!" It rolls off you after scores of nights of that noise. . .
My LongSeason will return, and perhaps will be indistinguishable from the prior one for you. But I can guarantee you, MY focus will be different.
My snag is deciding what "voice" I will want to use. And, in truth, I can't imagine one different from my own. But what to say?
Get into politics? Haha!! Not in my job! Nope! I can't Do That!
Get into psychological pain that family suffers from? Nope! I'm too ignorant to address THAT issue! (Though I'm studying the problem, trust me!)
"My" LongSeason will incubate a while longer. (For some, you may consider it "festering." ) Chris and Paul are still here. They can step up whenever they'd like, and NOW would be a good time for them to do so! (HINT, HINT!!)
"My" LongSeason will return, but I'm just not ready yet. . .
I have no editor, other than myself, and no advertisers clamoring for a "product." But, I do have "you." All of you. . .individually, meekly asking, "When are you going to write something?" "What's next?" "Think of anything, yet, you "DesertHead?" "I keep clicking on LongSeason and I get nothing. Did you pay your cable bill?"
And I find that charming, actually, and complimentary.
Except, one "push" I received was from a dear friend, who asked, "I hope you're not dying of anything sooner than you were expecting and that's why you're not writing. . ."
Um, and to that, I can honestly respond, "Nope! I'm dying right on time! Yup! Absolutely, I'm On Schedule!"
Shithead.
I was unhappy with LongSeason. Not for what it was, but for what it wasn't. It wasn't the literary gem I'd envisioned. I thought I could put out "Dave Barry" blurbs like rabbits produce turds. And I can't.
To be honest, it's HARD! To think of something that doesn't bore the hell outta me, and spend the time to "Hunt and Peck" my way through the thought to put it on the computer, and then, going beyond, what might not bore the hell outta you?! Well, It's hard. That's what I'll call it now. "Hard." At times it took on the "Impossible" moniker, but we'll let that alone.
Though, I think I've gotten better at it, but that's just because I've gotten more used to sitting by myself in my dark computer room with an LED lamp, by myself, with my pissed wife, in bed, waiting for me to, "Jesus, Get Creative, would you, and come to bed, you Idiot!!" It rolls off you after scores of nights of that noise. . .
My LongSeason will return, and perhaps will be indistinguishable from the prior one for you. But I can guarantee you, MY focus will be different.
My snag is deciding what "voice" I will want to use. And, in truth, I can't imagine one different from my own. But what to say?
Get into politics? Haha!! Not in my job! Nope! I can't Do That!
Get into psychological pain that family suffers from? Nope! I'm too ignorant to address THAT issue! (Though I'm studying the problem, trust me!)
"My" LongSeason will incubate a while longer. (For some, you may consider it "festering." ) Chris and Paul are still here. They can step up whenever they'd like, and NOW would be a good time for them to do so! (HINT, HINT!!)
"My" LongSeason will return, but I'm just not ready yet. . .
Wednesday, August 10, 2016
Wednesday, August 3, 2016
Resurrection
And, Poof!. . .
Just like that, Long Season is dead. Love live LongSeason!
Remember, this exercise began as a gift from my son-in-law to me and his long-time childhood friend, Paul. Paul Salvatore, who has written, and PUBLISHED a wonderful fantasy, "Fountain's Edge." (Amazon, $2.99, kindle format as well as paper back! DEAL!)
The blog has moved on. Paul, actually, physically, is leaving the area to pursue new challenges and life with unknown mountains to climb. Beautiful wife, masterful medical skills, stone-cold rugged Italian good looks, and the mind of a arbitrage rep, he'll do well!!
While my son-in-law, Chris, remains here, with me, in Western Podunk, PA., facing his own wonderful professional high-tech challenges I'll never comprehend, with two of the bestest, most adorable children any human being could ask for and a beautiful wife I love possibly more than he does (?) Nah, I don't think so. . . (In comparison? Paul loses. Sorry Paul.)
Me? I stick around until somebody shakes my shoulder to tell me I'm drooling on my bib I put on two days ago because I was cold in a breeze somewhere I was, but I don't remember. . .But at least I remember I married the other most beautiful woman in the world, Chris' mother-in-law! Incest at its absolute Best!!
I didn't delete all my entries from LongSeason for the last three years, I just took them off "Published." You can't see them, but I can. They still exist. And may still form the basis for a book if/when I ever decide to spend time writing the way I should.
The entries from the last blog were not all garbage. They were raw and poignant and uncut. And true expositions of emotion and insight. Many (well, at least some) were masterpieces, in my mind, if I do say so. But LongSeason had become a kite with a tail 300 yards long. It didn't fly any more. The time had come to rework, refocus and maybe, think about what I wanted to do with the blog.
. . .Um, . . .I don't want to disappoint you, but I'm not getting any new inspiration here.
So, until I come up with a new direction for LongSeason, I just may try to upgrade my prose and perhaps make an effort to ascend to "literature" from "diary."
Hahaha!! I crack myself up, sometimes!! That was Great!!
And Bullshit.
Welcome to LongSeason without the tail! I hope the journey is fun for you, too, as it will be for me!
And again, Thank You, Chris!
Just like that, Long Season is dead. Love live LongSeason!
Remember, this exercise began as a gift from my son-in-law to me and his long-time childhood friend, Paul. Paul Salvatore, who has written, and PUBLISHED a wonderful fantasy, "Fountain's Edge." (Amazon, $2.99, kindle format as well as paper back! DEAL!)
The blog has moved on. Paul, actually, physically, is leaving the area to pursue new challenges and life with unknown mountains to climb. Beautiful wife, masterful medical skills, stone-cold rugged Italian good looks, and the mind of a arbitrage rep, he'll do well!!
While my son-in-law, Chris, remains here, with me, in Western Podunk, PA., facing his own wonderful professional high-tech challenges I'll never comprehend, with two of the bestest, most adorable children any human being could ask for and a beautiful wife I love possibly more than he does (?) Nah, I don't think so. . . (In comparison? Paul loses. Sorry Paul.)
Me? I stick around until somebody shakes my shoulder to tell me I'm drooling on my bib I put on two days ago because I was cold in a breeze somewhere I was, but I don't remember. . .But at least I remember I married the other most beautiful woman in the world, Chris' mother-in-law! Incest at its absolute Best!!
I didn't delete all my entries from LongSeason for the last three years, I just took them off "Published." You can't see them, but I can. They still exist. And may still form the basis for a book if/when I ever decide to spend time writing the way I should.
The entries from the last blog were not all garbage. They were raw and poignant and uncut. And true expositions of emotion and insight. Many (well, at least some) were masterpieces, in my mind, if I do say so. But LongSeason had become a kite with a tail 300 yards long. It didn't fly any more. The time had come to rework, refocus and maybe, think about what I wanted to do with the blog.
. . .Um, . . .I don't want to disappoint you, but I'm not getting any new inspiration here.
So, until I come up with a new direction for LongSeason, I just may try to upgrade my prose and perhaps make an effort to ascend to "literature" from "diary."
Hahaha!! I crack myself up, sometimes!! That was Great!!
And Bullshit.
Welcome to LongSeason without the tail! I hope the journey is fun for you, too, as it will be for me!
And again, Thank You, Chris!
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