Lost in Boston

After a six month hiatus, I am glad to be back in cyberspace. Let's just pretend it never happened...

I'm now a resident of the greater Boston area, working full time, and trying desperately to keep my radical and intellectual saws sharpened (I just spelled "intellectual" incorrectly three times in a row. See how a mere eight months out of graduate school has melted my brain?)

Yesterday I treated myself to an $80.00 therapeutic massage in Davis Square. It wasn't worth it. I think I actually feel a bit worse and I would like my money back.

My lower back pain has made even pulling on my own boots and skivvies a painful chore, so I thought I'd try the hippie route of having some "body work" done instead of appealing directly to my physician. The Buddha music and scented oil were nice, but my masseuse insisted on prattling on and on about "the bars back home in Harrisburg" as she skillfully rubbed my shoulder blades and quads. Unfortunately, I couldn't enjoy even a solitary moment of the 60-minute massage. Any lapse in conversation incited a loquacious panic in her as if we were on a first date at a fancy restaurant. At one point (I think she was workin' my glutes), I was made to discuss the cultural diversity of Islamic practice and Western perceptions about the treatment of women in so-called Islamic countries. What about this conversation seemed like it would be relaxing to clients?