PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT You’d think it would be unconscious. I’ve been sitting on my bum for years. Except, despite the evidence of the architecture, as it were, there are about ten million different ways to sit on one’s bum.

Right now I’m a little bit forward, as I tap away on the laptop, and I’m actually sitting on my thighs.

I roll back a little— hmm, those are the seat bones, maybe?

I shift so that the position of my legs approximates the distance they acquire in the saddle. I lean, lean, lean back— nope, that’s the base of my spine.

Where is my bum?

Believe me, you can’t miss it… but where exactly is that suddenly elusive part that will be the ultimate measure of my success?

I think I felt it yesterday— no, I know I felt it, I’m just unsure as to the precise geography of the thing. I was coming down the H side of the arena, looking where I was going, my back was astonishing straight, and my pelvis was tilted— ah, just got it, just now in my desk chair.

So my bum bone’s connected to my hip bone. Gotcha.

The thing is, I was also conscious of my legs being really long, and my heels being very down, so my bum bone’s connected to my hip bone—

And my hip bone’s connected to my leg bone—

And my leg bone’s connected to my heel bone—

That song’s going to be in my head all day.

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