Yesterday, I went for my fourth massage. It was a foot massage. I have had a two hour massage and a one hour massage and a ninety minute hot stone massage previously. This is the kind of mindless nonsense that people post to Facebook and expect people to care about so I will try to say something more profound about the experience and why I have been so self-indulgent.
To the descendants of Pilgrims and Puritans at home, still trying to build a City on a Hill, I want to give my assurance that there have been no "happy endings." While such diddling is widely available, I am told, it holds no appeal for me. On the other hand, there are few things more enjoyable than having your ears massaged (they do this strange flicking thing, actually inserting their fingers into your ears, completing the exercise with a suction caused by lightly boxing your lobes) and there is little more satisfaction to be had in life than when your shoulders are reduced to rubble by the sharp elbows of the masseuse or masseur.
This is something I could ill-afford in America, but it is preventative medicine and I will keep on with it for a few weeks until some of the residual knots of my American existence (I was a Democrat in New Hampshire) work themselves out. Right now my neck is sore and my feet hurt, but I am sure this will all disappear with time. Day before yesterday, I left my phone on the seat of a cab and had to chase him down by foot to retrieve it. I am pretty fast for an old man, but my hip is still somewhat stiff today.
I will be looking into acupuncture and regular yoga practice, too. It is not uncommon to see people doing taichi in the parks here.
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