Kicking My Asana

Sometimes I think I am just going to have a mental break. Bah.

But rather than bore you with the negative details, I’ll bore you with the equally uninteresting, yet remarkably more positive, aspects of the day.

  1. I sang Summertime and Nothing Compares To You in the bar tonight. The bar was quiet but I didn’t care. Because I felt I did good. I kind of wanted to cry during Nothing Compares. But in a good “I am an artiste” sort of way. (How sad.)
  2. In the process of practicing for the aforementioned singing, me and my Steve got to play with the P.A, sing extremely loudly, discuss choral music and the accompaniments of Fauré and finally, laugh until it was painful at a website called Damn You AutoCorrect. (Google it. One o clock in the morning is no time to be looking for links.)
  3. I was doing yoga at 8 this morning and my Crow and Half Moon Pose are coming along nicely so in a fit of confidence, instead of skipping Tripod Headstand, I decided to fuck it and go for it. Before promptly falling on my ass. The laughing hysterically at myself. This may have been the highlight of my day. (I am an odd person, no need to point it out.) Oh yoga, you teach me so much about life…

None of this goodness makes me feel any more at ease or make my teeth push against each other any bit less. But I will repeat, like a Mantra: Shit happens. This will end. Or perhaps something more beautifully eloquent when I have some sleep in me. Until then, if I get too twitchy and weird, just hit me with a wet sponge, or something of that nature. Getting the message across but hopefully avoiding any internal haemoragging.


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