Every* Muscle In My Body 2024
*A lot of the important ones
(For those who don’t know, I released a second book of poetry in December 2023 and the audiobook for the first one the following summer, completing the Dustin Mark podcast/multi-media saga, thank woo. Unfortunately for me, creating the audiobook used up the last of the creative energy I had. I have no artistic juice, or juice of whatever the word is for quasi-artistic-megalomaniacal-smarm.
It is with that in mind that I begin this year’s review.)
Although I am now creatively dead and the breeze I once felt on my cheeks as I steadily fell from my perch of competence has made way for the tickle of the cool dirt that padded my fall, full of living things eager to explore and vulture this one creatively dead thing, I still feel an occasional breeze on one of the parts of me still able to sense, and I am reminded of the limbs I’d reach out for on my fall. I used to grab them, hoping they’d save me, but without fail they’d snap off and I’d be left holding another half-assed requiem, wet with bird piss and bird poop that only I ever felt. These branches would never save me but I’d still grab on. When they’d snap off I’d feel like I wasn’t alone on my fall, and when I was to eventually hit the ground the force of the impact would release them all from my grip, scattering them hopefully far enough away from my rot to live on in spite of me. Maybe one would get carried away by a bird, or by a thousand ants, and taken somewhere nice to be observed from time to time, or used as firewood.
Today I feel the breeze. “We are weeks into December,” the wind whispers, “and that little body thing you do — the one on Medium with the pictures, you know — well, it’s gotta get done. We are waiting.”
“No, you’re not waiting. You just remember that it’s December and you remember a previous trend and if anything you’re just curious if the trend is going to continue this year, but you’re fine either way. You’re not waiting because you don’t care,” I grunt back. I’m not sure if the wind has heard me, but it circles around and heads back my way.
“That’s what we meant. But it’s not personal…we don’t care about most things but that doesn’t mean those things don’t have their places in the universe,” it hisses.
“The universe?”
The wind awkwardly recoils. “Well, the internet. The very personal parts of the internet…like the personal storage parts. You know, the parts that are technically there — they’re on the internet — but not, like, widespread.”
I can feel this idea beginning to click. I shift my eyes to see if the wind is still there, listening. “Wind?”
“Yes, Dustin,”
“Phew. I couldn’t see you. I was worried you’d gone.”
“We’re famously not a visible thing…you know that,” the wind responds, careful not to patronize. It knows that if it is mean to me I will close my eyes and take another one of my very long naps.
“Right…right. Well I just want to see if I get what you’re saying. Even though some of what I do is an empty shriek at no one…even though it’s vain and confusing and, despite that I think it’s kind of fun in an absurd realism-y way, kind of a turnoff to most people…that doesn’t mean it doesn’t deserve to exist? That it belongs?”
“That’s right, beautiful boy. You get it. It belongs. And so do you.” The wind caresses my buttocks and taps an affirming tap on the back of my neck (I am face-down).
Although I feel relief I cannot yet accept it without double-checking. “Did someone tell you to say this? Did someone put you up to it? Because that would be kind of a cruel joke, to get me back up and moving just to be laughed at.”
“Who would do that to you, darling boy?” the wind replies.
“I don’t know…no one, really. I mean that’s unlikely. But maybe someone wanted you to tell me this as a gesture. Like, they know I’m creatively dead and they don’t want to stand idly by and watch me decay but they also don’t really care…like they’re not going to read it.”
The wind thinks for a moment. Finally, it kneels to me. “In this instance no, but it’s not completely offbase for you to think that. But no, this message comes from the universe, not a guilty-conscienced peer.”
I gather the strength to crack a smile. It isn’t my best smile but it is recognizably a smile nonetheless. “Thanks.”
“No,” the wind replies, “thank yourself. Now go strip down and take pictures of that white body.”
My smile widens. The wind wooshes away. At least I think it does — after all, I cannot see it.
I begin to move. My legs wiggle. My back cracks. I feel in my clenched fist a handful of branches. I stand up and shake the dirt off. I am undead, but only just.
In the distance I see a bush shaking violently in the wind and I smirk. I don’t know where I am, or which direction is home, but I think if home cannot be found then it can be made.
I wander off in search of the nearest mirror, and as I wander I begin to think about my body and all of the muscles in it. Well, a lot of the important ones, at least.
Clothes, mirror
It’s December, which means it’s time to take stock of my body. For the internet to continue tracking my personal growth it’s important that I provide data that can be empirically judged: on its own, against someone else, against next year’s data, or against data from past years (the 2023, 2022, 2021, 2020, and 2019 reports are available here on medium).
Sometime in January — like the second or third week — I enlisted at a nearby Planet Fitness. I looked at other gyms online and Planet Fitness was the cheapest one! By a lot, actually. Did you know that some gyms charge $200 a month and Planet Fitness charges $12.99 a month? And as you may remember from my 2019 report, I have a history with Planet Fitness and I figured they’d welcome me back.
I used pre-workout for the first time in my life (I liked it) and I bought a combination lock so I could keep my backpack and wallet secure in the locker room. 33–17–74.
I went to the gym three times and am still paying monthly for it, which I put off taking care of because it’s annoying to do even though it’s only minutes from my work. The three times I did work out didn’t make me feel better, just sweatier, and one time I didn’t even get sweaty because I wasn’t really in the mood.
I’d focused on cardio because that’s what’s most likely to save my life, but I also worked a little on arms, chest, and back. It was January and I had to put my hoodie and coat on when I left and get cold on my walk to the car.
I also played on two different rec soccer teams this year. I paid to be on each — just a casual team with some friends and some of their friends and family. A season is 8 games long and between the two teams I think I showed up to 5 games. It’s so hard to do things.
“Playing soccer” reminded me how much I like playing soccer, but how much I hate putting in hard physical work, and also how much I hate overly competitive adults. I’d try to inject levity into the games, yelling things like “Jesus fucking Christ this is exhausting” as I ran, or sometime “how do you fucking people do this every week?” but I was usually met with eye rolls, if not ignored. The sentiments were genuine and I’d hoped they’d instantly explain to people why I was moving so slowly.
The first season I stopped playing after a couple games because my left foot was hurting a lot. That’s true, I didn’t make it up to get out of playing. It was in pain and I didn’t know why. I still don’t but I think it has something to do with my shoes. That’s become increasingly clear this year, actually, that I need better shoes. My feet will often hurt after a day or two of wearing certain shoes. And the pains…they feel like they’re coming from inside the bones. I have no idea how to quell them. It’s very frustrating. The second season I stopped playing because I wanted to.
Hmmm, did I get any other exercise? Off and on I think, natural stuff. A couple months ago there was fire in my building and we had to walk down thirteen flights of stairs holding the dog, then another thirteen flights up with the dog. This was very exhausting but all around a better exercise experience than Planet Fitness. And yes, I live on the thirteenth floor, but it’s ok because they call it the penthouse so it’s not unlucky and also my net worth is very negative money.
Food. I’m tempted to say that this year I ate worse than any previous year, but since I can’t prove that I won’t say it. I did eat horribly though. In the summer I moved (to the penthouse) and my new building is a block away from Taco Bell, which is a lifelong dream. This Taco Bell used to be the worst Taco Bell in America (not true, but it ranked in the top 5) but it appears they’re under new management and now I think it’s pretty good — nowhere near the top 5, I’d say. It was tough leaving my old Taco Bell, where someone who had the same car as me but yellow worked, and where one of the saddest looking people I’ve ever met worked, but it had to be done. All that to say, I ate a lot of Taco Bell this year. You’d think that I’d be able to see my statistics on their app, especially since I am a Fire Tier member, but they don’t offer. I’m curious how many times I went but specifically I’m curious how many weeks I went multiple times. I don’t know how many weeks that would be but it’s not no weeks.
(To be clear, I often get off work at midnight or later and if I don’t have food at home or have the energy to prep something, I’m left with what’s open, which thank Christ is Taco Bell. Also to be clear, I live as if I cannot be killed, and likely will continue to live in that manner until I have a substantial scare.)
It wasn’t just the Taco Bell. It was also the general absence of greens or fresh produce, the mostly processed shit I ate, and the often frightening portions I can gob down. Adderall is no longer an appetite suppressant. I have beaten it.
Ooh, one last thing on food. Also mentioned in my 2019 report was my love of a good apple fritter. It would be inappropriate for me not to mention the rekindling of this flame. God damn, I love an apple fritter. There’s a place nearby called Voodoo Donuts, which if you don’t have in your town you probably have some facsimile of — decadent, monstrous, sometimes experimental donuts for more money than donuts should cost. I discovered their Apple fritters this fall and god damn. They’re so rich and moist. Damn. Also you know how donuts often go stale quickly so you put em in a bag or tupperware to keep them not stale for a little longer? Turns out if you put a Voodoo Donuts apple fritter in a big gallon size ziplock for multiple days it stews and marinates in its own juice and goo and becomes a different version of itself — a really wet, sticky version of itself that you just pull off little bites of and oh my god I love it so much.
I’ve also drank a lot this year 😝.
All of this to say, my body took a backseat this year. A backseat, even, to where it’d been prior — think third row of a big SUV. Think unloved child riding in truck bed. Think friend locked in trunk as part of prank, then forgotten, then found the next day, covered in own piss, no tears left to cry.
And before we get into the pictures I’ll add that I had a cold in December, so I coughed enough to engage the ab muscles, and a little bit of the neck muscles. If those muscle groups look more developed, that’s why.
Look at me, just a regular guy. If you asked AI to get a mirror really dirty and then put a lazy Jew in front of it…
You’ll note from the above photos that I am still breathing poorly.
Front body top
In order to fit properly into the frame I’ve lowered my body via squat. There’s a noticeable pooch, particularly on the right when I challenge my pants. Otherwise I’m kind of just a regular guy. You can also kind of see the difference in arm strengths on the left. My left arm looks frail whereas my right has a little bit more beef.
An imbalance I’ve just noted: the vertical crease down my abs does not align with my happy trail.
See. What is that? Is this cause for concern?
The belly
Ok, this guy kind of looks like shit. Like no offense to him, but he’s a schlub. This is an un-cared-for body. I don’t remember putting my hand in my pocket, but I guess it’s just a thing I do.
I’ve just checked 2023 and this year’s belly is larger. While it may be larger, it also appears more natural, encompassing more of my body rather than a little bloated stomach on a skinny body. I am still considered skinny depending on the angle and lighting, but I regularly look like shit, regardless of angle and lighting.
Legs (right, then left)
All of the sudden I am slightly better lit. Ignoring the upper me, focus on my right leg and the weird knee in the middle of it. Knees look so weird when legs are straight. As usual you can see some definition in the quad, but not a ton. I’m even pressing my leg down against the side of the tub to make my calf look bigger. To no avail.
The left is a ‘whatever’ leg. Real place-holder. The quad muscle is there to be seen, but that doesn’t mean it’s big, just that its angles are sharp and the light shines harshly against it.
Looking directly at my straight up calf you might think it looks ok, but I’m pressing this one against the tub too, and on the right you can see how duped you were by thinking the middle picture flattered.
Also note that the shadow in the right hand picture is my rectangular phone.
Left arm
Ok, the bathroom lighting means business now. If I saw this guy in a magazine I’d feel like he belonged, no matter which magazine. It does make my legs look small, like my waist is cinched and then pyramids down. No butt on this guy, just good arms and pecs (no devoted ‘pec’ section this year, just some glimpses in other muscles’ photos).
Right arm
This mirror orientation is throwing me the fuck off. I can hardly tell which arm is right and which is left (intelligence issue).
I’ve confirmed with myself that this is my right arm and holy shit. That’s a basketball player for sure, or a guy in a rough part of town who has to fight for his meals. Like, why does my arm look so jacked? Am I jacked? (I am not jacked.)
On the left, a deceptive tricep catches your eye while a man beats you over the head with a bat, looking for a meal.
The back of my top
On the left there are a lot of weird ridges and wrinkles and shadows. Hard to tell what’s going on, really. There’s the vertical back ridge, obviously (a favorite of mine, though this year I have little to be proud of) and some of those shoulder wing indicators, but focus your attention to the middle/central/lower back. Now loosen your focus. What do you see? At first glance I saw a ball with sunglasses and a mohawk (think ‘Major League’) kissing a faceless woman, both of them being squeezed by knuckles. The ball is on the left — the mohawk part is under that trap muscle. I also saw a very ugly heart shape. And kind of even a really weird/damaged butthole? There’s even a section on the lower right that looks like a bug bite…that smooth part, it looks like a smooth inflamation from a bug bite, like a mosquito bite, or a bug like that.
Now to the right, where I’ve assumed a position that doesn’t not look like I’m masturbating. Interesting though. I can’t tell what on my back is bone and what is muscle. It looks like there’s muscle there, right? And the shadows at the bottom look like a natural whale tail. A downward arrow, even. But it does look like there’s some muscle. Right? There’s definitely some muscle.
“Neck”
I think my neck looks weaker here than it has in a while. I hide it well, but it’s just not very strong. There’s not much definition. Not a good neck.
Ass three ways (one angle)
Ahoy there. Perhaps these photos offer more by the way of back flexing/angles, but they were intended to just be butt so let’s focus on the butt. In the middle pic you can see the little under-ridges that define the lower butt. You can see them on the right, as well.
As I look at these pictures more, the more I see two people kissing in my buttcheeks. First I just saw it in the middle picture, but I now see it in all of them. The humanoid on the left has an impossibly flat face and the figure on the right has minimal chin definition. And yet they found each other and kiss forever on my behind.
Because of how I have my underwear positioned and how the lights in the bathroom are arranged, my nuts are invisible. This is a good thing. It allows me to actually publish this report, and it keeps some of you from being too disgusted, or from fixating on my nuts.
I’m going to momentarily digress and say that within the past week or so I’ve started using the word “nuts” to refer to testicles. I don’t know if I’d ever said it before (if I had then it was not frequently and felt unnatural) but all of the sudden I can’t stop saying it — it just clicked. Just like that. While taking this photo I recall being concerned that my nuts might be visible, and lo and behold they are not. HOWEVER, I’d be remiss not to address whatever those muscles are in the nuts. There’s that tissue stuff that hangs them down…is that a muscle or a ligament or what? Despite never being taught about this, or told if it’s normal, I’ve always sort of been able to flex my nuts. Like a little twitch and I can raise them up a little. (Think of a weak man being held upside-down by his feet and trying to do a crunch.) I can’t sustain it, but I can do it momentarily (I am better at it with my left, but I can do the right as well). I think I used this muscle (?) more in 2024 than ever before, and yet I don’t think they’ve gotten stronger. It is, therefore, maybe not a muscle down there.
Another digression: imagine two skin-only humanoids kissing…BUT/AND ALSO…just on the other side of them…between their necks…big nuts. LOL at that. I hate that I’ve become another gross guy, another pseudo-writer using shock value to draw people in, talking indelicately about his nuts. BUT/AND ALSO, I am who I am and there’s no longer anything I can see besides that kiss/nuts image, no matter how much I try.
**If anybody can get in touch with the good folks at ECOS Dog Shampoo I imagine they might like to see this, for marketing or something.
Butt profile(?) w/leg profile(?) w/downward calf(?)?
I don’t know if there’s anything to glean from this angle. It’s a very little bit of a lot of things (sort of like me). One thing that does interest me is the pecs. Look how lean they look. That shadow line between them — so strong and lean. Another credit to the shadows I live with.
There’s also my little butt, which I think we find cuter with underwear on. I don’t know where the other half of my body is, positionally.
Arm-raised side of body (from front)
This is a crap picture, but the silhouette of that side of me is clear, at least, against the white of door. Oblique muscle? There is none. Big bush? There is none (pre-Christmas trim). At least I’m stretching, which is the first step on the road to exercise.
Left forearm
In November of 2023 I accidentally ran my watch through the washing machine and I have not worn one since. I miss wearing a watch — I was decidedly a watch-wearer before. Naturally I wear it on my left arm, which not only gives the arm constant exercise, but also masks the frail, wan wrist. I need to get a new watch but none of the watches I see online I like very much. At least it is now winter and I wear long sleeves in public.
Right forearm
A little better. On the right we can see what I sometimes call the bowling muscle (really it’s just the forearm muscle, whatever that’s called…it’s more to do with the angle my wrist is turned). Back when I had a dumbbell I would do curls (lifting the weight?) with the weight for the bicep, and I would also do the ones where you do the curl and you’re in the hand-shake angle, like hand perpendicular to the ground. That would help that muscle/position. I used to bowl a lot. I haven’t in a year or so but when I last did bowl everyone was very impressed with what I could do.
Upper trapz
The dreaded shoulder pimples/freckles/lone-standing hairs. I don’t think they’re pimples actually…I think it’s those things that if you’re eating certain things they kind of become more prominent. Allergy stuff, I guess. But DISREGARD these things as they are NOT muscles or related to musculature.
I know I’ve done it fine before but these were difficult pictures to take. I wasn’t sure how to showcase the muscles and offer any sort of decent angle. They’re not good muscles anyway — not on me, at least.
All of the sudden I’m insecure about my shoulders and traps and that. I don’t care how they look but I’m realizing that my shoulders are weak. It would be a very effective attack if someone were to karate chop my shoulder. I can feel it. It stings. It makes me feel disabled. And even turning my neck is hard. It may be in my best interest to work these muscles.
An angle I invented
Technically this picture is *upside-down* and I tell you this because I do not wish to deceive you. You can see my little neck bones, which give me plenty of space to have my neck protected, and on one shoulder there’s a bulbous little muscle pocket.
Then there’s my legs and belly. I was hoping we’d see facets of my legs we hadn’t already seen, but instead we see only their pale length. No hidden muscles. I tried to find them but they were not there to be found. I am exactly what you see.
I am sitting on you (clean)
Really this says it all. I may look jacked, but ultimately I’m just kind of a regular guy, sitting on you. The belly, the boobs, the expressionless stare…I’m just trying to get by, man. I’m tired and just looking for a place to sit down.
I conclude below.
What did you think? Are you worried? I’m not worried. I need to go to the dentist but I’m not worried. I look forward to reviewing 2025 — hopefully I’ll take notes so I don’t have to look back and hardly remember a thing, as was the case this year. Maybe I’ll be wearing different glasses and maybe I’ll be strong. Until then, cherish your body and be nice to yourself. If you ever feel weird or negative about your body, send me pictures and I’ll do a muscle review of your body. Ooh, I just had an idea — a muscle review for a dog? Or a baby. Lots to think about. Creatively undead, would you look at that.
