Another period of feeling fantastic followed swiftly by an absolute assault on nearly every portion of my body. That's what hit me the last couple of weeks. Every time I get rolling -- exercising fully, walking several miles a day, hitting the crunches and whatnot (while simultaneously keeping the writing muscles loose and limber) -- something sidelines me. First, a bad cold a couple of weeks ago. This led to coughing fits which kept me straining to not throw out my back again like I did in a most severe way last year. Then, once the cough went away, and I was punch-drunk with giddiness over feeling good, the back went in a totally unrelated way. Then the knee again, due to manner in which I ended up walking due to the lower back pain.
I managed to fit in a post a week through much of June -- far below my normal routine, but the need to finish the Roadshow quartet kept me focused in those few pain-free moments. And thanks to laying about a bit more, I piled up massive amounts of viewed films. I am still not tip-top -- even now, sitting at the computer, the back is making me cringe every time I move too severely, but I am back to running about at my normal Mach 5 speed and looking forward to catching up on my usual expansive piddling about on the Pylon. Sorry for you, good for my mental well-being.
It's what this is all about anyway. And once I start feeling fantastic once again, I am sure I will step wrong to avoid crushing one of the dogs and I will be thrown backwards over the coffee table and the back and knee will go out at the same time... and then a month later, I will be tapping out another one of these largely unread reaffirmations of my personal prime directive, stating my purpose to once more begin spewing out media-related diatribes in the spirit of my usual prolific self.
It's my cycle, it's vicious to a certain degree, and -- what the hell --- if it's the way things must be, I might as well own the damn thing. See you tomorrow, me!
I managed to fit in a post a week through much of June -- far below my normal routine, but the need to finish the Roadshow quartet kept me focused in those few pain-free moments. And thanks to laying about a bit more, I piled up massive amounts of viewed films. I am still not tip-top -- even now, sitting at the computer, the back is making me cringe every time I move too severely, but I am back to running about at my normal Mach 5 speed and looking forward to catching up on my usual expansive piddling about on the Pylon. Sorry for you, good for my mental well-being.
It's what this is all about anyway. And once I start feeling fantastic once again, I am sure I will step wrong to avoid crushing one of the dogs and I will be thrown backwards over the coffee table and the back and knee will go out at the same time... and then a month later, I will be tapping out another one of these largely unread reaffirmations of my personal prime directive, stating my purpose to once more begin spewing out media-related diatribes in the spirit of my usual prolific self.
It's my cycle, it's vicious to a certain degree, and -- what the hell --- if it's the way things must be, I might as well own the damn thing. See you tomorrow, me!
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