Lurk

I regret the first half of 2004. Regret my makeshift computer setup. Regret the heavy black metal stand found curbside, dragged up and down station stairs, through MTA tunnels. Regret the blind workaholic hours, reckless dash to escape the nine to five. Regret the dresser teetered under, inch by sidewalk inch, stubborn, obsessed, wrists bent backwards. Coupled by contorted performance art avant posture. Coupled by paint roller repetition. The cause of these circumstances makes perfect sense to me. I brought on a great burden through the expression of my primary attributes. Hard working. Frugal. A hunger to live life unconventionally, artistically. Chronic pain entered my life in May of 2004. It has never left. Every day I face it. Sometimes struggle. Sometimes mourn. Spread to my shoulders and back. Worsen. Became aware that many of my favorite activities are rooted in hands. Many of my greatest talents are expressed through hands. Using the computer becomes more difficult. Writing by hand, more difficult. Playing piano, more difficult. Experimenting with recording, manipulating new technology, more difficult. I am still able to do all activities. But always with pain. I imagine that people do not believe my pain is real. I assume that people would not believe it exists to the extent that it exists. So I do not discuss it. You now read a rare indulgence, allowed to myself tonight. I consider myself open minded. Patient. Persistent. Having a capacity to approach conflict with gentleness, care. Healing has been one of my highest aspirations throughout the last seven years. My life has had accomplishments, but I have made little progress with my pain. I have worked a great deal on art, but at least this much effort has been devoted solely to healing. Lost hours, lost hours. I feel I have tried almost everything. Speaking these words into a dictation program. Works badly, crashes. Putting up with it. Fear for the future. Fear of physical pain. Fear of loss of ability, mobility, expression. Helplessness. No answer in sight. My days contain many wonderful people and happenings. I am very lucky, but all of my days are colored by this pain. It lurks. Ominous. Relentless.