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What would you do when you're safe home again?
I had a rotten morning. I needed to go to bed early and I fell asleep sometime much closer to dawn because my back hurt so severely that I was crying from the pain. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
derspatchel curled up against me while I read about Peter Cushing and was warm and reassuring and smelled like himself, but he had to move back to his own bed before I fell asleep, with the result that I had a nightmare in which we were moving again (no reasons given in the dream, just moving) and there wasn't enough room in the new apartment for both our furniture, scant as it was, and Rob's foot was still in a cast, so I ended up sleeping on the curb with my head at a wrenching angle to the rest of me, which was pretty much how I woke up, except for the bit where I was indoors. It was pouring rain and everything about my neck and spine hurt so badly, I had trouble getting dressed. Both the Red Line and the 73 bus were running late.
The bad news is that I am still in the kind of pain that makes it difficult to think, not to mention turn my head or sit comfortably. (Yes, I am doing something about it, not just enduring with insufficient painkillers. I have an appointment with a physical therapist next week and I hope they'll tell me something that isn't just "Eh, try some heat on it.") The good news is that I had a singing lesson nonetheless, which was worth going out for, and then loitered around several different bookstores in Harvard Square until Rob was done with his doctor's appointment in Davis and could meet me for dinner. We had spent the previous evening staring somewhat hungrily at the menu for the newly opened Shake Shack. As far as high-end fast food goes: totally reasonable. My cheeseburger was a lot of tasty fat in the right proportions for a tired person who had just been walking around in the rain and probably not even that bad for me. Their shakes are legitimately impressive. I ordered a Lobstah Shell concrete, because how could I not—I didn't quite realize it meant an entire lobster tail pastry blended into the frozen custard along with the strawberries and ricotta. It was kind of like eating a deconstructed profiterole. This is a recommendation. I am considering Shake Shack a viable destination for DessertQuest 2014 from now on.
And I got home andhandful_ofdust had sent me a DVD of Berberian Sound Studio (2012), which I was not expecting, and other films like Near Dark (1987) and Iron Man 3 (2013) that I am cheerful to own. Gemma, thank you. You are the best movie pusher I know.
Andashlyme seems to have found me a copy of Mark Gatiss' The Tractate Middoth (2013), and Rob seems to have converted it to some format I can watch on my computer, so I think that's what I'm going to do now.
derspatchel curled up against me while I read about Peter Cushing and was warm and reassuring and smelled like himself, but he had to move back to his own bed before I fell asleep, with the result that I had a nightmare in which we were moving again (no reasons given in the dream, just moving) and there wasn't enough room in the new apartment for both our furniture, scant as it was, and Rob's foot was still in a cast, so I ended up sleeping on the curb with my head at a wrenching angle to the rest of me, which was pretty much how I woke up, except for the bit where I was indoors. It was pouring rain and everything about my neck and spine hurt so badly, I had trouble getting dressed. Both the Red Line and the 73 bus were running late.The bad news is that I am still in the kind of pain that makes it difficult to think, not to mention turn my head or sit comfortably. (Yes, I am doing something about it, not just enduring with insufficient painkillers. I have an appointment with a physical therapist next week and I hope they'll tell me something that isn't just "Eh, try some heat on it.") The good news is that I had a singing lesson nonetheless, which was worth going out for, and then loitered around several different bookstores in Harvard Square until Rob was done with his doctor's appointment in Davis and could meet me for dinner. We had spent the previous evening staring somewhat hungrily at the menu for the newly opened Shake Shack. As far as high-end fast food goes: totally reasonable. My cheeseburger was a lot of tasty fat in the right proportions for a tired person who had just been walking around in the rain and probably not even that bad for me. Their shakes are legitimately impressive. I ordered a Lobstah Shell concrete, because how could I not—I didn't quite realize it meant an entire lobster tail pastry blended into the frozen custard along with the strawberries and ricotta. It was kind of like eating a deconstructed profiterole. This is a recommendation. I am considering Shake Shack a viable destination for DessertQuest 2014 from now on.
And I got home and
handful_ofdust had sent me a DVD of Berberian Sound Studio (2012), which I was not expecting, and other films like Near Dark (1987) and Iron Man 3 (2013) that I am cheerful to own. Gemma, thank you. You are the best movie pusher I know.And
ashlyme seems to have found me a copy of Mark Gatiss' The Tractate Middoth (2013), and Rob seems to have converted it to some format I can watch on my computer, so I think that's what I'm going to do now.
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I almost ordered that! And then thought, I might as well see what their actual burgers are like. I'll try the mushroom thing next!
(And sorry you had a rotten morning.)
(Thanks. I'm trying to make up for it.)
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an entire lobster tail pastry blended into the frozen custard along with the strawberries and ricotta
. . . it's a good thing fresh strawberries disagree with me, because otherwise I would be tempted and I'm fairly sure it would be a terrible idea for my digestion.
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Thank you. I am focusing on the things I can do for myself tonight and hoping tomorrow's proportions are better!
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(FWIW, for me pain hangovers are a different quality of "discomfort" (ha!) than the kind of pain that comes with bones and joints sitting wrong. Can't think through the latter, either, which is thicker somehow and more attention-grabby. I'm distinguishing exactly because--at least for me--the PT experience has been milder and better than not having it, though still a bit hard at times.)
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It was probably not a great idea for mine, but it was definitely the right thing to do.
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(Basically the same. And the ones that knock me out are not generally very useful about it—I wake up and the pain is still exactly there.)
Sending good thoughts against your pain.
Thank you. I've never actually done physical therapy before; I am planning to give the therapist the very long list of things that hurt these days and see where we can go from there.
I'm distinguishing exactly because--at least for me--the PT experience has been milder and better than not having it, though still a bit hard at times.
It's worth having the heads-up that days afterward might be difficult; it hadn't even occurred to me to wonder. I figure at this point it cannot worsen anything to try physical therapy, so.
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If the therapist is competent, a long list seems exactly right. I've seen . . . four? five? by now, across 15 years, and all but one found some behavior/symptom connections I hadn't thought about. I respect that.
I hope it goes well!
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Nine
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*accepted and returned*
Thank you.
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Yes. I saw it at the Brattle in September as part of a double feature with Byzantium (2013). Best double feature I had seen in a very long time. I still haven't really written about either film.
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Appreciated.
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(And thanks to both of you for the mention of Shake Shack.
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I'm glad there were good things as well. I hope the physical therapist will be helpful.
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I hates the chronic pain. I hates it a lot.
I have a weird relationship with Berberian Sound Studio. I loved it up until the protagonist was in his apartment, and I kind of get what they were doing in terms of cinematography/stylistic homage/*other* but I kind of lost the narrative. I suspect I was meant to, but I really wanted to see the narrative I was invested in pay off, and I'm not quite savvy enough when it comes to that genre to really see what was going on. I was thrown. Maybe I was meant to be. Hm...
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Someday we will have the use of all our limbs and it will be awesome!
(And thanks to both of you for the mention of Shake Shack. plumtreeblossom and I both love malts. We’ll have to try them.)
(The Shake Shack is seriously malted. I plan to work my way through their concretes, which is a manageable project when there's three or four on the menu. If I tried this at Bartley's, I'd hurt myself.)
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Thank you. I have no reason to believe they won't be!
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No, I think that's standard. My mother says the same thing.
I hope it helps you too.
Thank you.
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I am not so fond of it myself. Thank you.
but I kind of lost the narrative. I suspect I was meant to, but I really wanted to see the narrative I was invested in pay off, and I'm not quite savvy enough when it comes to that genre to really see what was going on.
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Thank you. I hope so, too.
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Closest I remember to previous frustration was Antichrist, which didn't frustrate me so much as leave me incredulous and angry.
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So long as it's a productive frustration! If it's the kind where you just stare it and wonder what was the point, that's a problem. I loved Berberian Sound Studio, but I accept that other people might feel more complicatedly about it.
Closest I remember to previous frustration was Antichrist, which didn't frustrate me so much as leave me incredulous and angry.
I didn't see Antichrist. (Dancer in the Dark almost single-handedly killed my desire to see any further Lars von Trier, no matter how brilliantly reviewed.) What did it do?
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