Thoughts of how will get up and down the stairs.
Test runs and lots of upper body strength, that's how.
I had another hotel marked out which had rooms on the ground floor.
How would I get on the plane?
How would I go to the toilet?
I was already using a bucket. It leaked. So I grabbed the cleaner's bucket. Need to return it, hopefully without an explanation.
'Was just mopping my room,' I'd tell them. And I was, I was mopping up the piss from the leaking bucket.
The pain was shocking.
Keep the leg straight, don't twist it, I knew the drill, I had been there and done that before.
'Just kick that tree down,' said the guardian spirit of the land, who died a ghastly death at the hands of the white fellow.
I'm going to get hurt. It's going to fuck up my knee again if I'm not careful.
The urgency of doing the dirty deed had me in a funk.
I should have went slowly and surely and leisurely.
Instead I went like a bat out of hell.
I was under the spell of the land which was looking for another victim. It was goading me. Kick kick.
More it said.
One last kick, said the spirit of the land, you can do it, it goaded.
The tree did eventually break but not with out me buckling my knee and taking a fall hard on my back.
I'll never enter that hell territory again.
Backs and knees in despair, never known a place to be cursed with the pox.
I remembered the rotten kangaroo carcass.
The land wanted me, the bugs wanted me, the worms wanted me, the evil spirits wanted me.
If I had it my way, they weren't going to get me.
Why don't you kick that fucking tree down?
It was the thing lurking around the lands, the grim reaper, a soulless creature of the netherworld. The impertinence of it.
The tree was happy, it didn't want to be kicked down.
Nightmares long behind me.
I can walk.
The knee didn't make me scream as I got off the bed.
I can't figure this out.
I was thinking the worse, amputation.
Wheelchairs, crutches.
I was scared.
I feel so vulnerable not being about to walk away from trouble.
Trouble loves praying on vulnerabilities.
Fuck, this knee ain't ever going to be the same again.
I was bending my knees. No aches and pains. I've been cured. Even in my dreams, I'm bemoaning a dodgy knee.
Wake up.
I'm cured of last night's affliction. And this isn't a dream.
The pain has gone. I can walk. I'm not going for a run but so far so good. And nor am I going to do deadlifts.
The dreams are still alive.
Borneo is still calling me.
It listened to my screams in the night and replied, 'do take courage child, it can be delightful.'
A test run downstairs. Emmy isn't feeling well, she's under the spell of lethargy and the other Emmy, the cleaner, has aches and pains and borrows my Tiger Balm.
Steady steady.
Now back up. I can feel the knee, and the suspect joints, but it's doing just fine.
Nothing pops.
Back in my room, time for some food.
It only cost me one dollar in my currency. You can't even buy one cancer stick for that back in inflation land.
I'm feeling better already.
Fish, pumpkin, curry gravy and rice.
And tax-free cigarettes.
I light up, puff...
...the world has come good again.
The old Chinese lady using a four-pronged walking stick as bent as her bow legs thought the same as she made her way to my local.
I wasn't alone in this affliction thingy.
If ever there was a time for a collective sigh, it was now.
Test runs and lots of upper body strength, that's how.
I had another hotel marked out which had rooms on the ground floor.
How would I get on the plane?
How would I go to the toilet?
I was already using a bucket. It leaked. So I grabbed the cleaner's bucket. Need to return it, hopefully without an explanation.
'Was just mopping my room,' I'd tell them. And I was, I was mopping up the piss from the leaking bucket.
The pain was shocking.
Keep the leg straight, don't twist it, I knew the drill, I had been there and done that before.
'Just kick that tree down,' said the guardian spirit of the land, who died a ghastly death at the hands of the white fellow.
I'm going to get hurt. It's going to fuck up my knee again if I'm not careful.
The urgency of doing the dirty deed had me in a funk.
I should have went slowly and surely and leisurely.
Instead I went like a bat out of hell.
I was under the spell of the land which was looking for another victim. It was goading me. Kick kick.
More it said.
One last kick, said the spirit of the land, you can do it, it goaded.
The tree did eventually break but not with out me buckling my knee and taking a fall hard on my back.
I'll never enter that hell territory again.
Backs and knees in despair, never known a place to be cursed with the pox.
I remembered the rotten kangaroo carcass.
The land wanted me, the bugs wanted me, the worms wanted me, the evil spirits wanted me.
If I had it my way, they weren't going to get me.
Why don't you kick that fucking tree down?
It was the thing lurking around the lands, the grim reaper, a soulless creature of the netherworld. The impertinence of it.
The tree was happy, it didn't want to be kicked down.
Nightmares long behind me.
I can walk.
The knee didn't make me scream as I got off the bed.
I can't figure this out.
I was thinking the worse, amputation.
Wheelchairs, crutches.
I was scared.
I feel so vulnerable not being about to walk away from trouble.
Trouble loves praying on vulnerabilities.
Fuck, this knee ain't ever going to be the same again.
I was bending my knees. No aches and pains. I've been cured. Even in my dreams, I'm bemoaning a dodgy knee.
Wake up.
I'm cured of last night's affliction. And this isn't a dream.
The pain has gone. I can walk. I'm not going for a run but so far so good. And nor am I going to do deadlifts.
The dreams are still alive.
Borneo is still calling me.
It listened to my screams in the night and replied, 'do take courage child, it can be delightful.'
A test run downstairs. Emmy isn't feeling well, she's under the spell of lethargy and the other Emmy, the cleaner, has aches and pains and borrows my Tiger Balm.
Steady steady.
Now back up. I can feel the knee, and the suspect joints, but it's doing just fine.
Nothing pops.
Back in my room, time for some food.
It only cost me one dollar in my currency. You can't even buy one cancer stick for that back in inflation land.
I'm feeling better already.
Fish, pumpkin, curry gravy and rice.
And tax-free cigarettes.
I light up, puff...
...the world has come good again.
The old Chinese lady using a four-pronged walking stick as bent as her bow legs thought the same as she made her way to my local.
I wasn't alone in this affliction thingy.
If ever there was a time for a collective sigh, it was now.
