I’ve had trouble doing any writing all week – or, in fact, any work at all, at least any involving a computer. This is a bit problematic given that at least 75% of my work day involved eyes to screen and fingers to keys.
The trouble would be more interesting it it was some existential crisis, some most of clarity about real life vs the virtual reality behind an LCD screen. Unfortunately the issue is purely mechanical. Something I did last weekend jacked my neck; maybe it was moving a seven-foot by fourty-inch bookcase (ah, I love new book cases) in from my truck. Maybe it was something else. Maybe it was just several weeks of bad posture at work or the configuration of my twin monitors.
Whatever it was, I’ve spent the week feeling my neck cramp into an inelegant S curve; a shape the human neck is most certainly not made for.
This makes productivity at the computer hell; I can’t be effective when I’m uncomfortable (pain? Sure. Discomfort? I don’t have the patience for it). Fortunately, with repeated applications of ice, adjustment, and therapeutic chemicals, I’m finally starting to be able to turn my head again, and my shoulders are finally below my ears for the first time in a week. Ok, I admit it, only some of the chemicals were therapeutic; some were just entertaining.
I’d intended to write about the jazz I’ve been listening to, and the book I just finished (Art Pepper‘s incredible autobiography, Straight Life; that will have to wait though, until I have a chance to post some musical samples, and ’til I can fully process the book. I finished it last night, and was left quite speechless.
Meanwhile, tomorrow, I get tattooed, something I’ve been looking forward to for a month. Later, we can talk about art, and Art, and maybe the, we can get back to the sex.