my body is turning on me ...

it is sad to say, but i am falling apart ... now, this is not in the sense of a leper or the reanimated dead.

this is more in the sense of, 'i am staring 40 years on this earth down the throat and my past bodily abuses are having the last laugh.'

when i was younger, it was nothing to climb a tree and jump out. it was nothing to strap a 'swiss seat' around my own american seat and rappel down some cliff stupid enough to be there. it was nothing to party hard for three days, never sleep and take turns with a buddy (or buddies) punchifying the general areas that need punchifying. it was nothing to play a weekend softball tournament, going 36 hours straight in nonstop beer-belly-jiggling fun ...

it was nothing.

now it is something.

for the past five days i have been in periods of agony, periods of frustration and periods of laying in the bed like a kafka cockroach, stranding on my posterior, screaming out to God, Athena, Jackee Harry, anyone who might hear, that i have fallen (asleep) and can't get up ... in short, my neck -- and subsequently, shoulder -- have been knotted up, arthritic-ized, turning their metaphorical backs on me.

por que? because at one time (two times, actually) it was 'nothing' for me to attempt Evel Knievel's snake river jump ... first, at age 10, on a bicycle, over a small creek on the 'nature' trail that once existed behind my boyhood school and the secondly, at age 35, on an electric scooter off the curb on main street ... both were unsuccessful, or if measuring by Evel's standards of outcome in most of his jumps, very successful.

the neck injury from the bike jump went untreated as i was more scared of my mother than of long-term side effects ... the shoulder injury, well, it was treated but i think just short of what was needed.

now, i suffer bouts of stiffness, turning my body like a robotic santa that once graced the window of the hometown drugstore. incidentally, that santa always scared the eggnog right out of me ... he was creepy, with his one good arm and the constant turning and whirring waving.

but the short of it is this, getting older -- while rewarding in that i know nearly everything now -- can have it's drawbacks. i know medical science is doing wonders these days with face and hand transplants. i wonder how they would feel about a body transplant? here in kentucky we have jewish hosptial, which i think led the way on hand transplants ... maybe that would be a good place to start.

here are my requirements for the donor body ... male, caucasian (no bigotry here, i just want it to match the dome), semi-fit, reproductive function is optional (i have three crumb catchers already) though it would nice if the mechanics were there, preferably a nondrinker and nonsmoker (i want to corrupt it myself, thank you) and no stupid tattoos ( i can take care of that, as well).

so if you know where a new body may be lying around (preserved) or wish to donate your body, just holla ... i am waiting for your call, while staring straight ahead.

peace.