i have been working so fucking much that the novelty of freedom has reignited my tawdry crush with this fair berg. i am currently in a place that is playing "three days", my favorite jane's addiction song. the room smells of sushi. the patrons are discussing esoteric yuppie shite like cell phone plans and computer programming. and i, the perennial observer, am fucking happy.
i still regret giving sylvia, my vintage manniquin, to j. i have been collecting various body parts since. my newest, a $10 left arm. "can i give you a HAND with that?" two seperate people brayed, verbatim, as i walked past after purchasing it. her? it's a rather asexual arm. i judge the finger length and wrist width... and "wrist width" is now officially the hardest phrase someone learning english as a secondary language could say. i have thought about this! before it was the word "worthlessness", or perhaps "slither." fuck, there are so many words in the english tongue that i cannot vocalize... like "lisp." how cruel, to make a descriptive word that people who have it cannot fucking say.
but i digress.
i had my second shift at bbh today. it went well. the first guy was massive- a foot taller than i and the width of the table- and he wanted work on his back. so i went in with my elbow. "that's a little too much" he gasped. his was an odd anatomy to figure out. it was dense yet doughy... i couldn't feel the little knots and landmarks that i usually expect. it was one of those halfway-through, "fuck, i'm giving him a shitty massage" massages. but at the end he thanked me and said he felt much better and more relaxed. actually, "wow, that was really relaxing" is what he told me. and he thanked me again when i saw him in the hall. the second guy was much 'easier'- i could feel everything. he was thin enough that i could do parallel work on both sides of his back- which i'd never done before! he thanked me twice also. but then i saw him on the bus afterwards- the stop is right outside the door of the facility- and he ignored me. and i realized that my revelation last week -holy shit! i'm the professional!- makes it mandatory that i be the professional. i can't talk to these people afterwards and ask them how they are and what brings them to bbh and what they're feeling. and i, for the same reason, am unapproachable. they warned us about this repeatedly in school- Boundaries, they coined it- but it's fucking hard in the real world. it's fucking hard if you're a human being.
i must remember to bring my own music next week. i used the cd that was in the player at bbh- "spirit wind." it wasn't fucking awful, but there were sitars involved. i felt like i should have voiced a disclaimer... i'm not THAT kind of massage therapist! i was listening to captain fucking beefheart on the way there, for fuck's sake.
i took my seattle-crushy ass to ballard.
it's still ass-cold- i'm wearing gloves outside. it's fucking JUNE. MID-june. but i got a 14" charcoal grill today. i found it last night on craigslist. i picked it up today and threw the money through the mail slot with a note around it that said "thank you! it's perfect! (smiley face)" it's never been used. ten bucks. it's currently sitting on my porch, about to get fucking rained on.
i even turned the heat on this morning. it's 58 degrees outside.
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last night i was looking at expedia fares to new orleans and even, god help me, las vegas. i hate las vegas with every fibre of my being, so i shan't go there... at least, not alone... that's masochism slathered upon self-hatred... but i need SUN. i need to sweat. i need to wake up and think "fuuucckk, it's gonna be hot today." i have been clammy and climatically INCONVENIENCED for long enough. if i wanted to freeze my ass off under the cloudy doledrums for 9 months straight, i would still be living in alaska... where it's probably warmer than here right now.
i have seen far too many examples of a 'grey study' lately, which are depressing enough to not take photographs of, so here is a blue study from a week or two ago:
and at the bottom of my street:
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