wednesday i went to see gary, a massage therapist, who worked on my shoulders for an hour and a half and said that it was like trying to knead the knots out of concrete. to me, the name gary evokes images of auto mechanics in light blue monogrammed jumpsuits, and as i lay there on the squishy table with my face in the squishy hole, i kept smelling motor oil. “yo, gary! we gotta problem at the shoulder blade! bring me the ratchet!”
i think i take all the things i worry about in a day and store them in my neck and shoulders, with separate little hard knots for each worry, and achy tendons connecting the knots that are related. it looks, i imageine, sort of like this.