I Knead a Massage

Facebook gave me an opportunity to change the “old look” to the new. I took them up on it. I loathed the new look. I wasn’t crazy about the old one, either, but the new look reminded me of the great, great grandchildren of self-absorbed millenials. So I went back to the original look. Uninspired, fundamentally ugly. But I was used to it. Ach! I hate the idea that I might be devolving into a problematic geezer whose primary measures of quality depend on “the way it used to be.” I’d rather slash my wrists. (Though, in all honesty, I’ve never done that; I can’t actually say I’d rather do that. I don’t even want to try. So let’s leave it at that.)

Yet I brand myself an adventurer. Or something like it. I am willing to thrust myself into new experiences. And, I usually enjoy them. But the idea of some new experiences does not appeal to me. Until I actually experience them. So maybe I’d like the sensation of a knife slicing into my jugular vein; but I doubt it. Seriously. I’m almost certain that would not appeal to me in the least.

It’s only 6:02 and I’m drinking a gin & tonic. That’s a sign, I think, of deviance. But I am, deep in my heart, a deviant. I enjoy fantasies in which…wait, I better not go there, for fear of being disallowed entry into the home of good friends and others. But, in spite of my geezerhood, I have a rather active imagination. Some of the people who occupy real estate in there might be appalled. Or they might be enthralled. Who knows? One day, I may reveal the vivid, active, exceptionally expressive fantasy life that goes on inside my head. I should probably wait until I’m on my death bed, though, lest things get a little awkward. I love making people a little uncomfortable; have you noticed? I have no idea, actually, whether my dream-world would make others uncomfortable; others may well have the same dreams! Who knows? I don’t.

A nice neck massage would be perfect about now. Something to wrest the anxieties and the worries from my aching muscles. I doubt I can arrange for that, though, at this hour. So I won’t even try. But I can say with certainty that I want a massage. Actually, I may not just want one, I may knead a massage. Am I cute, or what? Of course I am, in spite of my belly fat and a face that seems bent always into a  perpetual snarl. I’m actually happier than I look. But cute? Yeah, probably not.

Enough of this. It’s time to go finish cooking the pasta and making the sauce. I’m sure the meal will be delightful. It always is.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

I wish you would tell me what you think about this post...

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.