logic; pen and ink on paper (page from an old math textbook).
If my body was a novel, then my back would be the unreliable narrator.
It runs the show, full stop. Story, themes, character development ... it's the vertical dramatic axis of my life. And it's completely untrustworthy. You simply cannot count on it to carry the plot forward.
When it goes, it goes, and all the other crummy little characters go down with it. We stiffen, and we stagger, and then we find ourselves looking up Chinese stretching exercises on the internet.
Maybe it's my own fault. Maybe I'm abusing the storyline. Maybe I shouldn't have pushed that armoire up the stairs by myself, sliding it up on a blanket, while my lovely wife watched impatiently from the landing, and I felt my spine bend backwards like one of Uri Geller's spoons.
And then afterwards she checked it for scratches.
If my body was a novel, then my back would be the unreliable narrator.
It runs the show, full stop. Story, themes, character development ... it's the vertical dramatic axis of my life. And it's completely untrustworthy. You simply cannot count on it to carry the plot forward.
When it goes, it goes, and all the other crummy little characters go down with it. We stiffen, and we stagger, and then we find ourselves looking up Chinese stretching exercises on the internet.
Maybe it's my own fault. Maybe I'm abusing the storyline. Maybe I shouldn't have pushed that armoire up the stairs by myself, sliding it up on a blanket, while my lovely wife watched impatiently from the landing, and I felt my spine bend backwards like one of Uri Geller's spoons.
And then afterwards she checked it for scratches.
Armoire...I love that word
ReplyDeleteYou couldn't have picked a better named item with which to stuff your back
I hope you're feeling better soon
If my body was a novel, then my back would be the unreliable narrator.
ReplyDeletenice one.
And if our marriage were a novel, DJ would be the unreliable narrator. I did help with the armoire.
ReplyDelete