Jan 03 - falling
I’d be a master faller, if there were such a thing. It was a drill I perfected in hockey practice, above all other skills we needed to learn. I’ve been falling all my life. I fell on my bike going down a hill and hit my pelvic bone on the top tube, ran in clutching my crotch to exclaim that My Ball Were Broken. I fell in a gravel lot in New Mexico and tore off all the skin on half my leg, was given pain killers and a beer from a dying friend to help numb the buzzing sensation. I fell into my chain ring in San Francisco and had to ride my bike up a steep hill to the hospital to get stitches but the staff forgot about me as a drunk man in the next room threatened to shoot a doctor for insensitivity.
I fell on my skateboard plenty of times, most notably right outside my house in Boston, The Cuntree Club. I was drunk on Sparks and my friends had disappeared but I was ready to head to the party up the hill prematurely. We had been listening to Operation Ivy and my juice was pumping so I headed outside to cruise a few small hills, but miscalculated a certain turn and hit a sand patch and fell straight on my head and later passed out for a moment under the porch at that party with one of the friends who’d momentarily disappeared. My memory decreases daily while the headaches and nausea increases.
I fell on my mountain bike, finally making it (sort of) down the steep descent I feared, landed on everything, somehow, but did not break my neck, and hobbled home to feed the dog and nurse my wounds. At that point, the skin on my shin was so scarred that the ripping of the skin did not hurt, it was sensationless except for the joint itself, the tender knee, which cracks and pops and creeks at will. I fell crossing the street once, for no real reason at all. It was daylight, or just after daylight, and a passing car was so amazed that they didn’t even laugh, just stared and eventually asked just, What Happened? To which I had no answer.
Another time I fell on my rollerblades for no reason at all, just standing there waiting for a light. A subtle breeze blew, perhaps, or the earth tilted too quickly. This time there were teenage girls standing there, and I was but a pre-teener, and they laughed, and I died but got up nonetheless, and skated on towards the bus station. I fell during a hockey game, and even though I had mastered the art so well in practice, I managed to leave my legs spread like a gospel, and a less-skilled skater fell a foot away and skidded skate-first into me. I thought my pelvic bone was broken but there’s been no evident damage done.
I fell in love but less times than most my age, so I’ve been told. I fell on my bike in the rain on my way to a bicycle circus, and the whole show I limped and bled and swelled, and the next day I found their trailer in Albuquerque and they were all drunk on whiskey, the circus drink of choice, and let me in for booze and dirty clown jokes.
I fell down three flights of stairs, I’ve just remembered, when I was in kindergarten. School had been cancelled due to snow but my sister and I went anyway, somehow, and the stairs inside were slick and my shoes were wet, and of course I slipped, and tumbled forever, and kept tumbling, and eventually I was on the ground, just laying there, and my sister tried to take me to the nurse but I only let her take me to the secretary, where my Dad could be called, and someone could take us home.
I fell on my skateboard plenty of times, most notably right outside my house in Boston, The Cuntree Club. I was drunk on Sparks and my friends had disappeared but I was ready to head to the party up the hill prematurely. We had been listening to Operation Ivy and my juice was pumping so I headed outside to cruise a few small hills, but miscalculated a certain turn and hit a sand patch and fell straight on my head and later passed out for a moment under the porch at that party with one of the friends who’d momentarily disappeared. My memory decreases daily while the headaches and nausea increases.
I fell on my mountain bike, finally making it (sort of) down the steep descent I feared, landed on everything, somehow, but did not break my neck, and hobbled home to feed the dog and nurse my wounds. At that point, the skin on my shin was so scarred that the ripping of the skin did not hurt, it was sensationless except for the joint itself, the tender knee, which cracks and pops and creeks at will. I fell crossing the street once, for no real reason at all. It was daylight, or just after daylight, and a passing car was so amazed that they didn’t even laugh, just stared and eventually asked just, What Happened? To which I had no answer.
Another time I fell on my rollerblades for no reason at all, just standing there waiting for a light. A subtle breeze blew, perhaps, or the earth tilted too quickly. This time there were teenage girls standing there, and I was but a pre-teener, and they laughed, and I died but got up nonetheless, and skated on towards the bus station. I fell during a hockey game, and even though I had mastered the art so well in practice, I managed to leave my legs spread like a gospel, and a less-skilled skater fell a foot away and skidded skate-first into me. I thought my pelvic bone was broken but there’s been no evident damage done.
I fell in love but less times than most my age, so I’ve been told. I fell on my bike in the rain on my way to a bicycle circus, and the whole show I limped and bled and swelled, and the next day I found their trailer in Albuquerque and they were all drunk on whiskey, the circus drink of choice, and let me in for booze and dirty clown jokes.
I fell down three flights of stairs, I’ve just remembered, when I was in kindergarten. School had been cancelled due to snow but my sister and I went anyway, somehow, and the stairs inside were slick and my shoes were wet, and of course I slipped, and tumbled forever, and kept tumbling, and eventually I was on the ground, just laying there, and my sister tried to take me to the nurse but I only let her take me to the secretary, where my Dad could be called, and someone could take us home.