While sitting around the other day and pondering the ceiling it dawned on me that it's been awhile since i'd posted anything new here at the old lounge, these days i've been going back through the Veronica Chronicles and working them into a longer, singular piece... mind you not in any quick or efficient way but in my usual haphazard half-assed way but i'm getting there... i'll admit i'm not the fondest of going back through the stuff i've written and working on it, there are things i really like about it and things i absolutely loathe about it but the fact is it needs done... the stories on the lounge are pretty much first drafts ripped straight from the skull of a derelict houseboy known as the Big Hairy Carol Brady and since i've not really worked on the next Wilderness Years pieces (though i'm hopefully gonna crank out a bunch as the Big World Bank Machine days come into focus and start clamoring in my head to be written, in fact at times i have so much shit i want to write a strange paralysis sets in and i do fuck all but once again the guy with most likely undiagnosed ADHD has digressed...)
Having walked the fine line of the addict most of my life one must always be cognizant that the trouble with the straight and the narrow is it's easy to slip off to the side (as J. Spaceman once said)... but that's not necessarily true in my sense... having walked that line in my younger days of powder and pills i have no desire whatsoever to dabble in that shit anymore... in my youth there was much worry about my love of booze but the fact is i've never really loved booze, it was just the most readily available and hence easiest way to get fucked up... fact is i don't have the stamina to be an alcoholic, never have and also realized how the older i got the worse the hangover and the less i felt like dealing with it so the booze was effectively sidelined to the point i rarely drink and when i do i rarely drink more than 2-3 beers tops... of course there is the cannabis and the psilocybin but that's medicinal, nudge nudge wink wink...
So what happens when one with a personality prone to what the shrinks call addiction decides to clean up his act? one of my favorite musicians for the last thirty odd years is one Jeff Tweedy, the man behind Wilco, a founding member of Uncle Tupelo, a brilliant solo artist and a one time addict who wrote a great book about his life... in the book he talks about his struggles with certain substances and how once he kicked those he replaced it with something else... in Jeff's case it was running and so when Jeff wanted to occupy his time and keep his mind off the shit he used to do he'd go for a run... which in turn became his new addiction... in fact he ran so much that he ended up with stress fractures in both feet... which brings us to our (anti) hero here...
As has been well documented, in 2018 after the night of the living back spasm, i remembered what my old doctor said when i was a kid battling scoliosis and how swimming was absolutely great for the back not to mention the whole body as well, add in the fact the aging ex-athlete with not only a shit back but creaky knees and some wonky ankles (the ankles mostly due to my bouts with gout in my booze guzzling past) and i made the decision to start swimming in order to take care of not only the back but the whole body... little did i know how fucking wonderful it would be for my mind as well but it is and being in the pool has become my zen moment... thinking back to where i started and where i am sorta blows my mind... in the beginning it was swim 25yds and take a break (which is one length) then it became swim 50yds and take a break (one lap), these days the first set is usually 500yds, sometimes 800, sometimes 1000 and sometimes i just don't stop at all... i've now gone over a mile without stopping and while i'm not setting any records i'm exactly dog-paddling my way to that mile either... so i'm doing good (for a guy my age) for the mind and the body... sorta...
Lying in bed on fine evening i noticed that the inside of my right ankle, particularly the ball of the ankle was extremely sore... of course the first reaction of the aging stoner is... i'm dying... but alas i was not and since the world is at my fingertips i searched up what could cause this feeling and when getting more specific in my search meaning, can swimming cause pain on the inside of the ankle guess what came up? while yes in fact it can! a condition usually caused by improper form of locking the ankle (which i'm guilty of at times) and overuse (also guilty)... or in my case maybe both... so what's a guy to do? well keep fucking swimming that's what... though i have now made a concerted effort to work on my form, vary my strokes more and for the time being dial back the long swims in order to maintain while rehabbing the ankle while not entirely giving up the activity i love to do most... so while my new favorite addictions are super smoothies (fucking hell i love those things) and swimming, they are not without risks... albeit a little better for me than what i was so fond of in the past... which brings me back to swim club...
Lest we forget the first rule of Swim Club is we don't talk about Swim Club... though it's been some time since i wrote about Swim Club as we can see from above i'm still at it, for better or worse, the back being (sorta) better and the ankle, shoulder and neck being somewhat worse... i suck at breathing to my left so i tend to only breath to my right so i get a fucking kink in my damn neck when i go overboard which lately seems to be every time i'm in the pool, hence dialing it back a little while trying to rest and not rest at the same time while working on the aforementioned form to varying degrees of results... meaning my ankle still fucking hurts...
These days it appears i've graduated to "real" swimmer though i most definitely am not but i have had people ask me for advice on things pertaining to swimming which i try and help with but then freely admit i'm a half-ass swimmer who is really an ex-basketball player who can't run anymore... but hey i guess it's nice to be recognized as someone who looks like they might know shit when the reality is i know jack shit... of course Swim Club is really about my fellow swimmers and there is a core group of us who are always there... a new one is an elderly woman with the most amazing ice blue eyes i've ever seen, she's the sweetest lady and always says hello and asked me for advice on her car the other day to which i told her i'm pretty useless in that department... needless to say she's in her 70s and in fantastic shape much like this other guy who when he told me he was turning 70 i couldn't believe it... i thought he was a few years older than me but 15? no fucking way... so barring me doing fucking more damage to myself i'm gonna keep this shit up...
And while this post is more to let the masses (or handful of readers) know i haven't been hauled in for my views by the new brown shirts here in Dumbfuckistan i'd be remiss if i didn't mention Patrick Bateman... if we recall Bateman had all the makings of a top notch weirdo and reminded me of the main character (played by Christian Bale) in the movie American Psycho... to probably no ones surprise Bateman and i are boys... he struck up a conversation one day and since them i am one of the rare people Bateman talks to... we bullshit about sports and music and i have to admit i like Bateman, he's a peculiar dude but once you get through the icy weirdness he's actually alright... he's actually come in and told me he's checked out some of the bands i've mentioned and tells me the ones he liked... even funnier was the day he hopped in the lane next to me and said, i was just thinking about you the other day, he then paused and said, that sounded weird but then explained that he was in a coffeeshop when he heard a Father John Misty song and realized it was the guy i had gone to see and had talked about, i then asked how he liked and he said it was pretty good and had checked out more on his streaming service... once again it's the old don't judge a book by it's cover theory... though i don't think i'll be stopping by his place for beers as there is still this part of me that sees that scene where Bateman talks about the new Huey Lewis record while donning a raincoat and grabbing an axe... the first rule of Swim Club is...
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