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October 9, 2007Muscle relaxants are niiiice…**ADDENDUM**Take prescribed medicines only as prescribed.** Sigh. Well. So, my back has been bothering me and making it difficult to sit for any length of time, and moving around has also been a pain. No major problem. I did begin a new exercise regime, though, and that plus another situation and my muscles are spasming. Spasm.ming… My muscles are in spasm. My back. Oh, the pain. But muscle relaxants are nice. I mentioned to the doctor that the low dose pill he gave me didn’t seem to affect me at all. Even though I am very fond of the pale pink color of said pill. I like pale pink I think it’s pretty. And restful. So he upped the dosage a little. Sigh. So, the back feels better but clearly I cannot drive, and I feel all So, blogging will be giddy, random and drug-addled if indeed there is blogging at all. Somehow I am confident that the world will continue to spin in its sphere whether I drop my vulgar and simplistic deathless pearls here or go lay on my bed with Georgette Heyer’s A Civil Contract which is today the greatest book I’ve ever not written. There are many, many great books I have not written, both fiction and non. Many great columns, poems, speeches and recipes I have never written. Because I am a sad uneducated failure of a girl and I have no discipline and the damdest case of introverted shyness in the whole world ever. But today, in this mood, A Civil Contract is the greatest of them. Those books and things I have never written. When I am off the muscle relaxants then maybe it will be another book. I once wrote a very nice romantic scene in which a hero managed to get a bummed-out heroine to eat a meal without her noticing. It was very sweet and nurturing part of a novel I’ve never had the balls to try to publish and it languishes now in a desk drawer and it probably says something that I find it romantic to be fed. Is everything about comfort food? No wonder my arms and legs are bloopy. But even then, Joe Torre’s stupid, stupid, stupid stupid what were you thinking, Joe, to bring in Wang on three days rest when he’s never, ever pitched on three days rest before and starting him in this incredibly important game, instead of Mike Mussina? Stupid! WHAT were you thinking? You pushed aside experience and emotional steadfastness for a kid who will probably now be convinced that he sucks in postseason forever? And who never it can’t be said enough, stupid, pitched before on three days rest? If you’d started Mussina we could have won that game; we could have been contenders! Instead of bums with one way tickets to palookaville which is what we are. Stupid! I hate baseball. I hate it like I hate when my kids are fresh because I love them but want to smack them across the mouth Irish-style, with the backhand, so the wedding ring leaves a mark, but I never do because I love them, and that’s how much I hate baseball. It is my favorite game, and I especially love it because it has no damn timeclock, but Bart Giammanti was right when he said it breaks your heart. It does break your heart. But Giammatti’s son is a good actor. I liked him in Cinderella Man which also had the very good Russell Crowe who has nice eyes and one of those voices I like to listen to. But I think Christian Bale would be better to play Thomas Merton if they ever make a movie of his life, which someone should. Alright. I have a headache. I’m going to go eat lunch and be very depressed about the Yankees and go read Heyer and you should too. Somehow I think all the cares and troubles of the world about which I can do nothing will still be here tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day, to the last syllable of recorded time and… and I celebrate myself, and sing myself, and what I assume you shall assume and what Whitman described is in a weird way pretty much what the world has become, isn’t it? Especially the blogging world? A singing and celebration of self and an urging toward all to think like I think dammit and assume what I assume? But as Felix Unger proved in court: when you assume you make an ass out of u and me. You’m and meme. This the problem, too many memes. Too many people who cannot distinguish between tuum and meum. Or worse, nobody gives a damn about anyone or anything anymore except themselves and their pathetic little opinions and conclusions and I count myself among the pathetic and small. And you should too. Or, maybe not. I hate to tell anyone they should do anything. I have always, always hated the language of the shouldists. You know the shouldists. They’re the ones who should all over you. They love to say “every person in America should think this way or feel that way or be concerned about thus and such.” So here I find myself becoming a shouldist, and that is a damnably sad and unforgivable thing but sometimes maybe a should needs saying. I personally think every American should be concerned with her press - the great and remarkable treasure of her free press - which is being subsumed by advocates and partisans who do not seriously question anyone whom they do not hate, and who therefore betray the public trust (and themselves) and leave the whole nation wide open for something which by the prickling of my thumbs something wicked this way comes. And I’m not even talking about Hillary although some of you likely think I am. No, I’m talking about the pain I feel every day when I sit here and read stories in the press that don’t jibe with what my own eyes and ears tell me, or when I see the press completely fall in line with a narrative (”Bush wants little children to get sick and die”) that is intellectually insulting and untruthful, and never ask a politician, “hey, why are you suggesting that 25 year olds are ‘children,’ and how can you say he’s cutting the program when he’s trying to add 4 million poor kids to it” why doesn’t someone like Russert ever say stuff like that to anyone? Why have journalism and politics and the academy all sunken into a kind of vague slog whereby every piece of reality and history is laid onto a stagnant wadi of settled muck that we all have to haul ourselves through, every day, until we’re all so tired of it and looking for a way out of it or a stupid distraction that we - everyday - allow more and more to be lain on the muck and absorbed and distorted and finally disregarded because one can’t possibly keep track of everything. The sheer volume of added muckery each day overwhelms and thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought and enterprises of great pith and moment with this regard their currents turn awry…and lose the name…of action. I love Hamlet. God, I wish I could write like that. I wish I could just write at all. I wish I could drown in such words. Nevermind. It doesn’t matter. It just doesn’t matter. As Bill Murray advised in Meatballs: “it just doesn’t matter. It just doesn’t matter. Even if we win! Even if we play so far above our heads that our noses bleed for a week to ten days - even if God in heaven above comes down and points his hand at our side of the field - even if every man woman and child held hands together and prayed for us to win it just wouldn’t matter because all the really good looking girls would still go out with the guys from Camp Mohawk because they’ve got all the money! It just doesn’t matter if we win or we lose. It just doesn’t matter!” Heh. MacBeth and Meatballs, do you see the crap that rolls around in my head at any given moment and how the sublime lies immediately akin to the ridiculous and it all crashes together into a roiling cacophony that leaves me stupid and paralyzed and thus conscience makes cowards of us all? Am I an unholy mess of a girl or what? “An unholy mess of a girl,” one of my favorite lines from The Philadelphia Story. James Stewart, Katharine Hepburn, Cary Grant why don’t they make movies like that anymore? With actors that likable? Ah, well…it just doesn’t matter. Because, as I’ve said, half of what we see is illusion and the other half a passing trend. It’s so hard to figure out which is which, isn’t it? But as Julian said, all shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well. And if it’s not, then still don’t worry because as Teresa of Avila said, “Let nothing disturb you, let nothing frighten you, all things pass away. God never changes…” and as our late great John Paul II said and the angels continue to tell you, every day, “be not afraid.” Be not afraid. We are in autumn, beautiful, crisp, fragrant autumn, season of mists and mellow fruitfulness. But still, always be aware. Childe Roland to the dark tower came. My Elder Son loves the Dark Tower series by Stephen King. My son Buster declares if he ever has sons he will name them Roland, Edgar and Dante. I’ll have to live through it. I love everyone. http://theanchoressonline.com/2007/10/09/muscle-relaxants-are-niiiice/trackback/ 26 Responses to “Muscle relaxants are niiiice…**” |
October 9th, 2007 at 12:28 pm
Here is how I see YOU, dearest friend.
Your intelligence is undeniable and quite vibrant. There are multiple kinds of education - and self education is, in my opinion, far more lasting and useful than that imposed by some academic hell hole. I’ve been to college - several of them - and acquired degrees, again several. I consider myself to be, in many ways, less educated than the Anchoress.
I read your writings and I am uplifted and consequently, I see in you an exceptional soul which, coupled with a superior mind, illuminates every day and reminds me that we are not just creatures of the physical but also (and primarily) creatures of the One who created us.
In my times of sorrow and emotional stress, you have been my rock and have dispensed valuable advice that I actually took!
In other words, dearest Anchoress, you are a beloved and valuable human being whose very existence is precious to those of us who read your blog. As to the possible names for your grandchildren - cherish them however they are named although Roland, Edgar and Dante don’t sound especially IRISH to me! But I’m Hungarian so what would I know?!
I moved into my new house last weekend. I’m exhausted and my back hurts! My intent is to go home from work (which takes around an hour), get into my jammies, curl up with Sam the cat on the loveseat in my bedroom, watch Dancing with the Stars (I’m favoring Helio the race car driver - I’m a sucker for dimples) and go to bed early.
As to your beloved Yankees - they have been battering my “Cleveland Indians fan” heart for LITERALLY YEARS. I’m sorry you were disappointed but I hope you can be happy for me. It has been DECADES since the Indians did anything worthwhile! Well - okay 9 years but before that it was a DROUGHT. And for someone who actually attended the 1948 World Series games in Cleveland, that comprises a long, long, long time! (Told you I was OLD!)
You are loved by people you will never meet. We think the world of you with good reason.
Get some rest and feel better, please.
October 9th, 2007 at 1:54 pm
Personally, I LOVE demerol. Makes everything so much better and nicer. I know how you feel.
Enjoy!
October 9th, 2007 at 2:27 pm
Anchoress, you made me giggle and laugh through out this entire post. Boy those muscle relaxers! I hope you get to feeling better soon.
October 9th, 2007 at 2:46 pm
Enjoyed that ride…I think. It made me laugh and cry. Well done.
October 9th, 2007 at 2:55 pm
Whoo-hoo, Anchoress! I hope you have a designated driver.
October 9th, 2007 at 3:04 pm
I was directed to your blog from Joe Malchow’s Dartblog. I like your thinking and the eclectic nature of your prose. However, “Why have journalism and politics and the academy all sunken into a kind of vague slog whereby every piece of reality and history is laid onto a stagnant wadi of settled muck that we all have to haul ourselves through, every day, until we’re all so tired of it and looking for a way out of it or a stupid distraction that we - everyday - allow more and more to be lain on the muck and absorbed and distorted and finally disregarded because one can’t possibly keep track of everything.” has me a bit perplexed. A “wadi” is a dry river bed … so how can it be “stagnant [with] settled muck”? How about a “stagnant mire of settled muck”?
October 9th, 2007 at 3:48 pm
Paul Giamatti is Bart Giamatti’s son? I did not know that.
How I long for the days when major league baseball had a real commissioner who had real guts to do what was right and necessary (although, sadly, it did end up giving him a fatal heart attack).
October 9th, 2007 at 4:17 pm
Oh, I hope you feel better soon! Bloopiness is awful.
“An unholy mess of a girl”… haven’t heard that in a long time. I really liked “The Philadelphia Story”, right up until the father tells Hepburn’s character that he has affairs because she’s not the right kind of daughter. I wanted the younger daughter to come in, having overheard, and say, “What about me? Am I not a loving daughter?” I wanted him to take it back and stop being such an ass. Mostly, I wished the Hepburn character had had a kind father. I saw it when I was young (can you tell?) and it was the first time I’d seen an adult blame a child for his bad behaviour.
October 9th, 2007 at 5:07 pm
My wife does my Heyer reading for me. Or rather, I let her do the Heyer reading and I take credit for it.
Bale as Merton?! That would be amazing. My wife is the Merton fan too, but I take credit for it.
Jimmy Stewart and Cary Grant are the epitome of likableness. But I prefer Blanchett as Hepburn (re: The Aviator).
Might I also welcome you to that sweet sorrow and sting that is being a fan of a team that lets you down? Philadelphia v. Toronto. 1993 World Series. *weeps*
Hope the meds do their job
October 9th, 2007 at 6:15 pm
I’m just glad you have some quality pharmaceuticals to help you get thru the hurtin’ back! Feel better soon ~ while you are taking a rest cure (well, as much as you are able to rest) say a prayer or two for me with two big concerts back to back (10/11 & 10/12) that my fingers can do the “walking over the keys” they need to do!!! BTW, your writing is fabulous no matter how you are feeling, and we are all the wiser for having read it!
October 9th, 2007 at 6:34 pm
Hey, lady, get well. How much longer do you expect us to keep slogging through wagnant stoddies, I mean, stagnant wadis? And this on muscle relaxants? Do not drive a car or operate heavy machinery in a wagnant stoddy.
October 9th, 2007 at 6:58 pm
Anchoress, I wish you some healing and ease. Ommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm …
*benning gives up his Zen-like chanting and tosses the Anchoress some Dark Chocolate M&Ms*
By the way I nominated you in the Best Culture Blog category at the Weblog Awards. The nomination page is here. I hope your other readers will head on over and add their votes to the nomination!
Get better, dagnabbit!
October 9th, 2007 at 7:14 pm
Gaius from Blue Carb Boulevard nominated you in the Best Conservative Blog category.
Best Conservative Blog
October 9th, 2007 at 7:28 pm
So, blogging will be giddy, random and drug-addled !!!
And joyous as you open up in a way you haven’t in a while.
Boom…
IF the Yanks played, like your write, they would have won the Series already.
Hating baseball is fun, especially knowing your team is the most successful club in the history of sport.
Meatballs !!!
Almost as good as the Bad News Bears, which encouraged me to pull for the underdog my entire existence.
Cleveland was good, and the Yanks have this Clinton Curse problem.
Please take good care.
I liked Romney, Rudy, and Fred in that order.
How very impressive the GOP Candidates are, compared to the alternative.
October 9th, 2007 at 9:52 pm
Howlin’ funny!
Dern, at least youse got a doc that will cooperate.
I have to buy Robaxin when I’se in Canada or France or Italy.
An’ mercy! I was slappin’ my knee on the shouldists.
Hilarious–an’ here is my own true story: onc’t when my sister
an I were on the Pilgrimage to Santiago, she was so hungry for American vittles that she lapsed into hostility over there being no baked potato
on any menus. When I (mildly!) said “you should try the…” she exploded in rage over my rudeness: “Should??? SHOULD??” she hollered out loud in the cafe–she doan take to nobody shoulding anyone else.
Hope yore back improves soon.
October 10th, 2007 at 6:27 am
[...] Trying to get back into a blogging mood after my visit with The Thin White Duke this weekend, but this post is leaving me feeling totally inadequate. Ha! And Ha! [...]
October 10th, 2007 at 6:56 am
[...] P.S. Who is that in the audience? I see Janis Joplin, but I recognize a couple of the guys, too, but can’t think of who they are. Who is that crazy-looking guy? BTW, do read this. [...]
October 10th, 2007 at 7:53 am
I am LMAO. Think I have some old muscle relaxants around here somewhere…
As a Phillies fan, I’m identifying with your Yankees pain.
October 10th, 2007 at 8:10 am
I loved it! Nothin’ like lettin’ your hair sometimes!
Just don’t drive anywhere.
October 10th, 2007 at 9:53 am
In your current state I wouldn’t recommend reading “The Spanish Bride” by Georgette Heyer. Not anything like her other books… Am having a hard time slogging thru it…kinda like your stagnant wadi of settled muck!
Hope you feel better soon…
October 10th, 2007 at 10:03 am
I’m so happy someone else thought of The Philadelphia Story too! A couple of changes made for the movie (”Well, you’ll do.”) are great, but for the most part, I heartily recommend the original play.
It turns out that with the proper medicinal encouragement, our Anchoress’ thought processes are much like my own. Who’d have thought it?
For the record, I love your vulgar and simplistic deathless pearls.
October 10th, 2007 at 11:00 am
I really like you.
I really love you on drugs.
Great, great post.
October 10th, 2007 at 2:04 pm
If you have any of those left over, let me know and I’ll pay for shipping!
October 10th, 2007 at 8:46 pm
[...] Muscle relaxants are niiiice… [...]
October 15th, 2007 at 10:43 am
[...] Muscle relaxants are niiiice… [...]
November 7th, 2007 at 6:08 pm
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