Last night, one of my closest buddies celebrated their 29th birthday with large group friends spanning a wide range of ages. Around fifteen of us poured into the Devil’s Reef tiki bar in Tacoma, WA. A darkly lit, Lovecraftian styled, hidden gem with a cocktail menu that reads more like cosmic horror than a list of drinks. It is one of my favorite spots.
Being the oldest in a group of friends only becomes largely apparent to me when the youngest friend spans decades. I sat at one end of the long table in the back with people who were anywhere from age 30-something to 24. Personally, I think having multi-generational friend groups is incredible and enriching. It’s especially fun to watch them reach their 30’s and relate to me on things that only I’ve understood for years.
Things like sitting on the floor for too long and when you try to get up, your knees hurt. Or sneezing weird and then spending the days that follow with back pain.
A Feelin’ in My Spine
The song I’ve been listening to all throughout this past week is the second track on They Might Be Giants’ album, The Spine. It’s short (coming in at 33 seconds) and called plainly, Spine. It sounds almost as if it flows seamlessly into the song that follows and in live shows has often been played as a medley with that next song (which I’ll write about next week).
On it’s own, Spine is full of eloquently poetic lyrics and set to a simply musical track that I cant help but interpret as a guy who is around my age and is trying to cope with a very bad back. As an almost-forty-seven-year-old tall person, I understand the sinister way an unhappy back can take over your life. When I hear this song, my whole body feels connected to the words being sung.
The complete lyrics:
I’ve been draggin’ my feet across my back
And I’ve been rubbin’ my head against my neck
And I’ve been walkin’ my fingers through my mind
And I’ve been feelin’ this feelin’ in my spine
And I believe I’ll be leavin’ it behind
When I don’t need a spine
Leavin’ It Behind
The first two lines of the song are singing to the physical coping mechanisms being used to try to find some relief from the agony. The next two lines are about the mental and physical toll coming from the chronic back pain and last two are about the moment he will finally surrender. The acceptance that he will finally be leaving this pain in his back behind, when no longer needs his spine - when he’s dead.
The ultimate surrender is knowing that there is no solution to the entropy of our bodies. To the lifelong toll of gravity on our spines. The dull aches, sudden sharp stabs, and ever-present knowledge that our very bones will betray us at the mere thought of sitting on a cushion-less wood chair in a tiki bar, inch ever closer to an end with every passing birthday.
Until we die.
Question: What’s the dumbest way you’ve ever thrown out your back?
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The dumbest way to throw out your back has to be from just... sleeping wrong. The betrayal! Also, a fun new thing that's been happening while I sleep is my whole ear ending up sore, from sleeping on that side. What's up with that? Not the inner ear, but the whole outside shell. Not cool, body. Not cool.