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I Need A Robotic Right Foot

May 21, 2013

As if I needed more reminders of the slow creep of age–my right foot is having its yearly, ‘Give FIDo shit,’ super happy fun time. So I’ve not been out since Sunday and I’m going a little stir crazy. Crazy I tells ya! Clanging my prison bars with my cup…you know…mental. That sort of thing. Okay. Maybe not exactly that, but I hate it.

I especially hate it because of my triumphant 40 minute treadmill walk on Sunday where I was like, ‘Fuck yes! I can do this.’ Apparently not. I was going to go to the gym again today, but my foot was telling me, ‘No, no, no,’ to which I wanted to take a saw to my foot. But then realized that wouldn’t solve my problems. And then I thought of transhumanism and the future and wished it’d hurry the feck up and get here. I’ll gladly take a dystopia if it meant this damn foot would quit it with its shit.

But no transhumanism, no saw, no blood, just pain and me walking like a gimpy old man as opposed to me walking like a gimpy man with a football injury. I started feeling bad for myself, though, because every movement I tried to avoid the pain only exasperated it. So, what have I learned: well…no wearing sandals with no padding for one. The other is to think before I do stupid shit because I think this could’ve been avoided. I think.

The only good part to this is that I’m walking mostly normal for now. We’ll see how long this holds up. Last foot dickery didn’t end for 4 months.

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