she moves she

Turns out I’m very stubborn about idleness. I lifted things heavier than bread loaves all weekend. It only hurt a little at the time…and a lot later. Reenter the narcotics. On Saturday the best thing in the world according to Lauren was a hookah bar in Wicker Park. On Sunday: peanut butter. Today, as of yet, is undecided.

I stumbled upon the democratic forum last night on CNN (hosted by YouTube…very bizarre).  I haven’t been paying much attention to politics or the gossip because I imagine my attention will be overly focused on it next year so why bother now.  My feelings about Hillary Clinton as a presidential candidate are undefined but I have to admit that seeing a woman on stage last night, in what has been a Males-Only platform forever…was truly refreshing.  I’m restraining a “You go girl!” right now.

15 days till the launch of Spry. Crunch time.

Longing – strong, persistent desire or craving, esp. for something unattainable or distant

Summer is a hummingbird. Fast, hovering and can move deliberately backwards through space (and why not…time).

I’m going to blame my lethargy and sad mood on the muggy weather and the broken bone. Everything has slowed down just like I hoped it would. Something about the heat makes the air and my thoughts feel thicker. It’s been a brutal and fantastic week.

No more narcotics for the girl. I think they caused an emotional rift in my chemical makeup. Taking me through a joy ride of imbalances.

…and what you’ve might’ve missed out on…

I’m rather speechless.  On the upside I’ve regained my typing abilities (my orthopedist tells me it’s ok if it hurts), on the completely far-fetched downside I have somewhat of a stalker.  I write this knowing that he most likely has access to my blog.  So impetuous am I!  Though not as impulsive as my dear pursuer.

Today was rather unique.  I had the worst train ride of my life.  Twenty minutes’ wait to get on the crowded redline. Shoved in like a pickle between glass, some guy’s beer gut and another guy’s armpit.  Bumped in the broken arm multiple times, one jab elicited an angry “Fuck!” from my lips. I nearly had a panic attack between the glass and Mr. BeerGut.  Thank God I made it out alive. Unscathed, save the nausea.  Then began a most depressing workday.  I brought with me a weekend of bizarre isolation.  I spent Saturday and Sunday reading, longing to write and immobilized by the damned fracture.  In a desperate attempt to alter my mood I searched “Stella” on YouTube and entertained myself with my three favorite suited men (thus far) for a good hour.  Topped the laughs off with a jaunt up Michigan Avenue amid toursits and homelesses only to arrive at the other end with a message from afore mentioned pursuer from my boss’s work phone!  Turns out I barely missed him.  (The saga continues.  Tune in tomorrow to find out how the confrontation between hopeless psychotic romantic and stubborn, country girl turned ‘city’, goes down.)  Then planted directly into doctor/patent mode.  Bend my arm a million different, hurtful ways for x-rays to tell me something I already know.  Sling bound for four to six weeks.  Hold nothing heavier than a loaf of bread.  Good Luck and See You Soon.  Then a strange dinner with guacamole, plantains and sexual flashbacks set to Mexican pop music.

To: Lauren Nicole, From: Mr. Phd.   One glass of wine and one bubble bath promptly before bed.

my arm has been playing tricks on me.  it stops hurting and i think “i’m cured. the doctors must have been wrong.” so then i immediately assume that i don’t need to take the high dose of narcotics i’ve been prescribed. two hours later the pain returns and it’s like i’m getting the bad news all over again.  i guess it’s more correct to say that the drugs are playing tricks on me.
when i was a warrior in training back in my karate-obsessed days, i was injured all the time. i had permanent bruises from sparring and my shin bones were serrated under my skin from kicks and blocks. i never broke anything, except for other people’s noses (mostly accidental).  i can’t help but wonder, what would a samurai do with a couple hairline fractures…? wrap em up and carry on? or appreciate that the body needs time to heal? my intuition tells me that a samurai would do the wise thing and heal.  i need to be more like the samurai.

A crash on Saturday left me broken and bruised.  Just a couple fractures in my right elbow and I’m left immobile for four to six weeks.  Unable to fix my hair, shop for groceries, practice yoga…and worst of all unable to write.  Typing is a left handed odyssey and writing is an aggrivating, bone-scraping debacle.  After the weekend I had all I feel like doing is writing.  But instead things are left clamouring about in my head. So much racket.  I thought I could just take a healthy dose of prescription painkillers and float through the pain of scrawling out my turbulent thoughts…after a failed attempt I’ve resigned myself to an over-crowded mind for the time being.  Let’s hope they all get along and I don’t end up eating rice krispie treats in the subway tunnels looking for papa smurf.

Despite the hurt it was a fantastic weekend.  I went to the Pitchfork music festival on Sunday.  Check out some highlights here, including a photo of yours truly at the very bottom of the page.