The Sweet Wonders of Self Care

Nov 04, 2023

“Can I step on you?”

Face down and encircled by a halo of white sheets, I responded to the Thai masseuse hovering above me. “Yeah, go ahead.”

Soft meditative music, birds chirping, and the sound of wind chimes permeated the small room. I felt a weight climb onto the massage table and two small feet stepped on my legs, moving in a timed rhythm, working the kinks out of my lower body.

Part of me tensed up, my body naturally reacting to this stranger stepping on my body. I took a deep breath and relaxed, releasing control. My body was in her hands.

I’ve had many massages in 34 autumns on this earth and many of these were Thai massages. About 15 minutes before this, I paid for a combination massage, specifically a mix of Thai and Swedish. Despite being accustomed to this type of massage, I’m never mentally prepared for the full weight of a woman standing on my back, kneading my flesh like tough dough.

She continued moving and made her way up my back. I sucked in air, breathing through the tight knots she worked on. Flares of burning pain.

You got this, Grant.

I pushed through the pain and wondered what type of training she went through, picturing a younger her instructed by an older Thai woman, patiently guiding her through the movements as she awkwardly stepped on a multitude of bodies, unsure of her footing, unsure of the waves of flesh, the shifting tides of her own weight. How many years did it take to become good at her craft?

I could tell she put in her 10,000 hours as she worked her way down my arms, delicately working the stiffness out of my limbs. I felt lighter as she stepped down and moved the sheet downward, scrunching it up below my buttocks and exposing my back. Her soft hands smacked together, hot oil dripping off her fingers.

She rubbed my back applying just the right amount of pressure, switching to her elbows when necessary. Here came the pain again, my knotted musculature resisting her touch, but I breathed through it. This was for my benefit.

Voices drifted in from the other rooms. Men talking to their masseuses, pointing out problem areas. I wish they would shut up despite the walls being paper thin. Doors closed and doors opened in the distance. Hot oil smacking.

Whispers.

The pain brought me back to the present and I adjusted my face in the hole I rested in, blind to the sweet wonders happening to my body. My body became more relaxed and I gave my body to the masseuse, allowing her to do her job to her full abilities. She stretched my legs one by one, curling them back like a scorpion’s tail. A good sort of pain burned through my thighs as she stretched me out.

You need to stretch more. Order that yoga mat.

She told me to turn over and she massaged the hell out of my neck and shoulders.

“Sit up.”

I sat up and she climbed on the bed once again, driving her elbows into my neck muscles. Shit hurt like a motherfucker. She chopped my back in a rhythmic fashion and clapped.

“All done. Would you like some hot tea or some water?”

“Hot tea. Thank you.”

I drank my tea, tipped her, and left the establishment. I emerged out of the parlor feeling reborn, renewed, and ready to go. The sky had darkened and Koreatown was busy with traffic and movement everywhere. I headed home…

Yes, that’s a new short story by yours truly published over at Apocalypse Confidential. Getting published here has been a goal of mine for a while and it feels to have accomplished it. “Scam Nation” is one of my personal favorites mainly because of the fashion elements and the layering through the story. If you dig fashion, scams, and sumo wrestling then boi do I have a story for you…

On the writing front, it’s been bits and pieces and a ton of ideas. And of course my muse is directing me to do another polish on Bullet Tooth. Why not lean heavier into some of the emotional scenes? Back in my early 20s, I never understood why an author would have 15 drafts of a book, which I still think is excessive, but I get it now. You never know what a little time away from a book can do for you. Fresh eyes are everything…

Currently Watching: Love, Death & Robots Season 3 & Lost Season 1. & Gen V
& Castlevania Nocturne

Currently Reading: Full Throttle by Joe Hill & Cosmic Horror Monthly #2 & An Altar of Stories to Liminal Saints by Rios de la Luz & The Slob by Aaron Beauregard

Burn You The Fuck Alive by B.R. Yeager is nuts. It’s one of the most anxiety inducing, unsettling short story collections I’ve ever read in my life and this is coming from a true horror fan.

Currently Smoking: Jeeter Pre-Roll

Listening: Black Tapes Podcast, The Danny Brown Podcast, The Higherside Chats, Agitator, Mutual Aberration Society, and Lost Xplorers.

Don Trip’s been dropping an album every single month this year—beyond prolific. Grown man rap is Trip’s bread and butter, and it’s on full display here in the best way possible. Going broke in 2020, dealing with his mom rejecting the car he bought for her, learning from the past, and rising above the bullshit.

Kanye’s protege freestyles over a soulful chopped sample that makes you feel nostalgic and hopeful. Nothing deep is said, but the vibes are immaculate and KayCyy seems to be having fun in Shanghai and makes sure our ears continue to be fed.

Everytime Action Bronson and Alchemist link up, it’s magic. Alchemist’s verse is so nice especially the peeling of the mandarin. Broson comes through with a crazy ass verse…wrestling moves on a leprechaun, “got the game on the leash like six special kids with helmets on,” and proclaiming he’s an entity that can be summoned in your mirror. Fire.

Billionaire Black has been contemplating pushing peace and leaving the GD lifestyle behind him, but the trauma and death is too heavy of a burden to carry. Even in a wheelchair, Billy’s begging the opps to run up on him. “No Peace” is a surprisingly thoughtful yet conflicted song that bangs.

Until next time…

Cop my books here or cop signed copies here.

For business inquiries email grantwamack@gmail.com

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