P.O.W. I always had this idea that acupuncture would feel really good.
"The needles don't hurt" people would say.
"Clears blockages along the meridians in the body" advertisements would declare.
'Sounds sweet', thought I.
Not so. Not so.
I always walk away from a session feeling like a prisoner of war who rubs his captor the wrong way.
The last session broke new ground for me. Electricity.
If you don't know, I am terrified of electricity. It's invisible. It's impossibly fast. It kills painfully. That says it all.
Lying face down with the back needled nicely, I hear this:
"I'm just going to run some low frequency electricity through you."
"Say what?"
"It won't hurt because it's low frequency."
"Uh..."
"Ok. I'm starting it now."
Click. Sickening humming sound. Unsettling tingly-prickly sensation. Frequency adjusted.
"OH HOLY MOTHER OF F---!!" Cried at a frequency too high for any but the Almighty to hear.
Thinking to myself, 'I can take it. Just breathe through it. Owwww. Alright, breathing's out. Think about the ocean. You're Aquaman. Swimming like a son'bitch. Leaping out of the water like dolphins wish they could. Why the hell is there a harpoon in my back? Oh, yeah.
Waiting for Dr. Tom to stop the madness, he, instead, shuts off the light and leaves the room for ten minutes. "Mother!" *spot-on Daffy Duck impression*
Well, now I know what a monstrous, ten minute, muscle spasm feels like.
Surprisingly, quite awful.
When that ordeal was over, I roll onto my back for round two of 'puncture the Pennykid'.
Sticks one in my wrist that feels like he cut off my hand. A deep, dull, throbbing pain.
Shuts off the light and leaves the room for twenty minutes.
Pain increases and holds steady for the duration. Longest friggin' twenty minutes ever. When he returned I was dangerously dehydrated from all the tears spilt.
Everytime I go there I'm emasculated.
From mucho macho, to three times a lady. Damn.  ¶ 10:55 a.m. 0 comments

  Paper Dragon Hmm. The evidence is stacking up against me. Try as I may to convince myself that I am a warrior born, the pudding keeps disproving it.
Two new items offered into evidence:
-slipped my shoulder out while soaping up in the shower
-burnt my thumb and finger sealing a ziplock lunchbag a little too quickly
Shrieked in both instances.
Future opponents, recoil in fear. I'm a bad mutha!  ¶ 12:08 p.m. 0 comments

  Hurts, don't it Two tales from training:
1- Having been told by both Master Fu and Dr. Tom that my freakish tension is thwarting my development, I have taken to experimenting with the power of suggestion.
All throughout the day I say to myself "soft ". While this has helped me to open my joints and let go of some of the general tension in my body, it also has led me to the doorstep of impotence.
Ah. The tranquility of flacidity. Like Grace Jones; beautiful and bizarre.

2- For my brothers and sisters - fellow templeless monks and nuns - who , in their celebacy, miss having orgasms. I can help.
I have found a reasonable facsimile.
Get into a low horse riding stance. Hold it. Hold it. When you have gone minutes beyond your pain threshold, and your legs are vibrating, your breathing is eratic, and your starting to see Jesus, fall down onto your back and quickly straighten your legs. Squeeze your quadriceps and roll your pelvis back.
Enjoy.
Note: If you're practicing celebacy, and you can't stop thinking about sex, or falling in love, then please let go of your vow. It is not something you force on yourself. You are made for it, or you're not. Find what is natural for you.  ¶ 12:21 p.m. 0 comments

  Spirals It's funny to me that I have such love for directness and efficiency, yet my path is riddled with spirals and catapults that send me back several paces and usually leave me disoriented.
What is simpler than the attraction of a fella to a gal?
Depends on the fella.
For me, it kicked off a bizarre chain of torments and revelations. Writing the details here would constitute cruel and unusual punishment on you, the reader, so I'll skip to the result.
I've come to the end of sensual desire as it pertains to male-female relations. Be they sexual or romantic. I honestly have no interest left within me. Most shockingly, even a perfect ass stirs no reaction. It doesn't seem possible, I know. However, it is so.
I have regained the clarity and focus I had twenty years ago.
I know what I'm doing. I know what I was made to do.
Long way to go, though.
The Taoist grand view of accomplishment keeps me on track: Perfect freedom in perfect fusion with the cosmic order.
If you understand it's meaning, you understand it's power.  ¶ 12:20 p.m. 0 comments

  too close The acupuncture treatment I received last week was, thankfully, the first that required no yanking down of the undies so I was hopeful going into yesterdays session. Lying on my stomach as, needles are mapped out over my back, I was pleased to find the Jockeys still in place at the conclusion.
"Roll onto your back."
"Okey doke."
"Move your underwear down."
"Aww, crap."
Indeed. I've mentioned some of the pain I've felt before, but I don't even remember that now. Two needles that close to the Heffalump, and the unique brand of pain generated when they're manipulated... Marmaduke! That smarts!
My celibacy is no longer a choice I make. My handsome lad has been frightened into permanent mellow.
Poor little guy.  ¶ 7:58 a.m. 0 comments