Daily Bread: On Being Injured

Strata Painting Study, Abandoned Sylmar Dam, May 2013Strata Study: Abandoned Dam in Sylmar, California, May 2013

Being injured forces a freezing not customary to my bones. A chunk of flesh missing, a gash of time hijacked for silent revelation and profound introductions to sun play on curtains.

A female punk rock singer friend asks me if I think the people who, after moving fifty miles an hour alongside her, suddenly ignore her fervent and intelligent email correspondence have somehow googled her and are now completely afraid of further exchange. I tell her I have wondered the same thing recently about people who think of me less than favorably. Ironically, we are both relieved to have this modern day weeding system in place – saves time, especially since we are now in our forties.

Speaking of that, the neighbor is out at midnight picking feces of dogs off her sidewalk and tells me that it’s prime time in my life for all the backtalk to stop. That stuff in the brain that goes on around pleasing everybody – it simply can now be switched off. So, I mentally flick it.

I am moving soon so I eat pate and apricots in my undressed bed like the women in Gray Gardens just for the hell of it.

Being injured allows one to feel earthquakes in three-dimensional fragility times seven and we’ve averaged one every other day through the course of my mandated bed rest.

I’m a fervent believer that world stress might decrease exponentially if people made a point to stroll along the ocean each morning.

A psychologist mentor of mine writes: if you know a writer, you should know that as their friend, you’re going to show up in their stories. I will consider this statement an instant disclaimer to all the humans in my life.

The sound of helicopters, specifically those circling around your specific residence to hunt any number of erroneous beings, is a staple to the daily Venice Beach residential soundtrack.

Bourbon and Diet Dr. Pepper with my little brother is an amazing pain reliever.

Being injured reminds you to feel rather than focusing on the treadmill of do. First comes hurt. It dulls to ache. Healing is beckoned with a tickle. A visual scar becomes your only reminder. Until the next time you evolve the unique map of your body.

2 Responses to “Daily Bread: On Being Injured”

  1. Your ideas are always intriguing. Your prose is inspirational and beautifully crafted. Were you injured or ill recently?

    • Kimberly Cooper Nichols Says:

      Bed rest for ten days due to stitches on a wound Lee. Thank you for continuing to read. I appreciate you and enjoy reading your pieces as well.

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