Skip to main content

Devil don't do-si-do.

Well, it looks like I've bottomed out on my weight loss, which is a good thing. Ten pounds? I can get that back easily. Especially considering my normal weight is only plus five. Which is kind of pathetic. Most of the mass I lost was in my arms. What the fuck? It couldn't have been my legs or something? Now I've got these bony arms again. I look like a damn middle school student.

But, I mean, what can you do.I've been practicing a lot of music these last few days. Practicing and listening. I really want to play clarinet again. And saxophone. My old teacher thinks after I can play again it's going to be amazing. I'm looking forward to it. One of my old friends wants me to play clarinet in his band over the summer. I guess that'll give me a couple months to get back up to speed.

I can practice fingerings until then, I suppose.

I hate being at home all day. I've been walking around outside more. Pushing further. I want to leave, though. Go to a park. Go camping. Go mountain biking. Go running. Maybe I'll do it. Go trail running or something. It's just too damn nice outside to stay inside.

As I turned the corner to walk up the stairs last night I caught a glimpse of my shadow on the wall. And, for a brief moment, there was the ghost of a profile I used to know. Maybe I will survive this thing after all.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I wonder, sometimes.

I am standing on the edge of a cliff face. A breeze whips past me as I stare out into the darkness. It's a familiar sight, comforting. The river bends below me. It stretches out, away from me at both ends. The arch of the bridge traverses the river, silhouetted by the house lights and golf course below us. So far away from us. The highway reaches out before us, straight into the hills and disappears on the horizon. It is silent. There are no cars. No planes. No animals. It is just us standing on top of the cliff. As it should be. It's late. A late weeknight. Just a normal Tuesday night to the world. I step away from the edge. In 5 minutes, I will be 22 years old. It's a turning point in my life. A fixed checkpoint. I'm only 21 years old, I'm not an actual adult yet. Maybe legally. But I'm still a child. I'm immature, I laugh at fart jokes. I laugh at everything. Why would I take anything seriously? 21 years old and we still have no responsibilities. We c...
2 comments
Read more

Side effects include constant irritability, being an ass.

It was a typical day in MUS 307 . A typical day where nobody pays attention to anything the professor talks about. A day where people play shitty flash games instead of take notes. A day where people sit and refresh their Facebook newsfeed instead of follow the slides. A day where people roll their eyes and go to sleep instead of listen to the music examples. A day where people get up and leave ten minutes before lecture ends instead of having the God damn decency to stay the whole time and pretend to be interested. I mean, if you're going to be so unaffected by the music we're studying in class then why the fuck did you take the class in the first place? Fuck it makes me mad. And I haven't even started talking about that fucker who sits in the back and tries to whistle along with every song that gets played in class. Alright, dude, we get it: you are just too cool and you know everything about jazz, ever. You know every standard ever written and everybody's so...
4 comments
Read more

Past the butterfly wall.

Spontaneous pneumothorax is a collection of air or gas in the space between the lungs and the chest that "collapses" the lung and prevents it from inflating completely.  Spontaneous means there is no traumatic injury to the chest or lung.   There are two types of spontaneous pneumothorax: primary and secondary. Primary spontaneous pneumothorax occurs in people without lung disease. It occurs most often in tall, thin, young people. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket but I can't answer it. We are in the middle of rehearsal. It is not an uncommon event. We continue to play. The strap of my saxophone cuts into my neck. The nylon is rough against my skin. I look out of place. Everyone else is dressed casually; shorts, shirts, shoes optional. There I stand, a button down shirt and slacks. I'm entitled to dress up a little. It's my birthday. My phone vibrates again. I always used to roll my eyes whenever I saw those scenes in movies. The phone call. The bad news....
2 comments
Read more