Something is up lately.
I don't know if it's our latest almost-terror attack, or the scary new group of reprobates who hang out in front of my deli (that they are drug dealers is obvious but that doesn't make them scary. Here's a New York City street lesson for ya: the drug dealers aren't interested in your purse -- the junkies hovering around the dealers want your purse. Learn to recognize a junkie in an eyeblink. Avoid them.)
Maybe it's that I'm just so tired.
But for some reason I have had this weird, uneasy feeling, migrating between the middle of my chest and deep in my gut. Sometimes it feels like I can't get a good breath all the way into my lungs.
I'm not sure where it's coming from, but I keep looking up to see if someone's getting ready to drop a house on me.
Maybe I just need to keep my back to walls, eat facing the doors of restaurants, stay behind the yellow line, and keep my claws good and sharp for awhile.
4 comments:
Yes, back to the wall, stay loose. I hope the feeling passes without incident.
The key is to keep the shoulders relaxed and arms and hands loose at your sides. Wiggle your fingers.
And to occasionally play Marvin Gaye's "What's Goin' On," stretch out on the floor, and pretend to be James Jamerson.
Damn. I had to google James Jamerson, and yet these references just flow out of you. I bow down in humbleness and retreat to my classic rock corner.
Ace
Rent "Standing in the Shadows of Motown." GREAT documentary about the Funk Brothers, the backing musicians for pretty much every great song that came out of Hitsville, USA. They tracked Jamerson down in a bar; apparently he was so wasted, he couldn't sit up to play and had to lie on the floor.
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