all i saw were sodium lights.

there are two enormous wreaths hanging on the large sign in front of the toll lanes. the wreaths are hung so the sign now declares this to be the "HOLLAND TONNEL".

when i emerged from underground and found myself on Hudson Street, i heard a vague acccusatory whisper, the one i always hear when i arrive in new york: why aren't you here. i wanted to roll down the window and scream out into the cold dark night, BECAUSE I CAN'T, but i didn't.

i was utterly blank and quiet as i drove up the New Jersey Turnpike. somewhere after Willow Grove the stereo quit working; nothing i could do would turn it back on. that was okay, i was awake, wide awake, and i stared, stared, and cried, and remembered, and tried to get this bitter taste out of my mouth.

i watched my life is Houston pretty much fall apart over the last week. i am deciding now if i should stay or go back to Philadelphia. to what, though? i don't have a job. i don't have a studio or a place to live. but i don't particularly have those things in Houston, either, at least after January 31st. i don't know what to do. i wish someone would just make decisions for me.

after a nearly hour-long tour of the East Village, i finally found a parking space of dubious pedigree, found my sister's apartment, and collapsed upon her insanely comfortable bed. i stared out her window, and all i saw was a tangle of tenement buildings and fire escapes, with a sliver of blue sky and clouds.

kyphosis, how i love thee.

so it all started the day after i got back from Philadelphia, on my birthday morn, when i was cutting a piece of board with an exacto. i had cut about two inches when i felt a peculiar...not quite pop, because pop insinuates all sorts of scary things out of whack, but something moved incorrectly in my right hand. almost like a charley horse, is what it felt like, and so i shook my hand out accordingly, trying to slip back whatever had gotten out of place. but it didn't go away.

the nagging pain continued, until finally on friday morning i came up to Jennifer with a whimpering plea to "fix it". she went over my hand a bit, and then gave me her chiropractor's number. i called and managed to get an appointment for two hours hence.

as an interesting aside, Jennifer has been going to this doctor for quite a while, and a couple months ago commissioned me to do a hot glue painting of a spine for his new exam room. i had met him briefly when he came by the Center, and he was sort of adorable in an aw-shucks chiropractor kind of way. so, she told me, i would get to see my piece hung up on the wall in his office when i went to see him.

Dr. G is located in the Memorial Hermann Wellness Center, a sort of doctor's suite cum spa next to one of Houston's large, confusingly named hospitals. when i walked in, i immediately thought this is where all the rich people go to get pampered and have plastic surgery. and of course i was right.

he went over me very thoroughly, for over an hour, poking and prodding and taking x-rays, and then cracking and rubbing and going over my back and neck with an enormous massager that resembled an orbital sander. he gave me the directions: PRICE, Protect, Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevate. no sleeping on my stomach anymore. his preliminary diagnosis was a slighty sprained/strained wrist (he dared mention the evil C-T word), tendonitis in my shoulder, and a neck that was, in his words, "bass ackwards".

so that was last friday. today i went in again and was treated to a look at my x-rays: the bones were all good in my shoulder, and my spine, when i am facing front, is straight and true. my neck, however, is FUBAR. i wish i had my x-rays to show you, constant reader, but all i can do is offer a picture that he drew. the blue is, obviously, how a normal spine should look. the red line is where my spine is. i saw the x-ray and quite frankly, it was fucking scary.




fig. 1 : fuck.


the good news (and there is some) is that we caught it early, and there is no damage to my disks, bones or nerves (forgive my extremely technical language). it can be corrected, but i will have to have about 10-12 more appointments in the next four weeks. all these are amazingly covered by my superawesome St*rbucks insurance, but there is a $35 copay for each appointment, an expense i can't afford. i suppose if i have to defer my loans, i have to defer my loans. dammit. but i really just don't want to mess around with this. when your hands are your livelihood, you don't have much choice.

(ps. my camera seems to no longer hate my computer, so picture entries once again!)