Whew. Just ran a TEMPO, 5 miles in 30 minutes flat. Good flow, felt solid. I got in a little zone, which will happen, if you are lucky.
(The most I have won in one hand of video poker is $1000.)
Running is the best sport in the world. You just bring your shoes, and then fall forward. Ok, you do need shorts. I know people run naked, but you are just being troublesome. I think humans have been running for 50 millions years, so when you discover running it’s like finding the DNA eyeglasses you lost years ago while skiing. Like that. Sometimes I hide things to later find, to get that glow of finding–this a useful technique to avoid depression. God hid the fossils for this very reason.
You can’t catch me, Paw! I am leaving for the big city and the cocaine!
Friend of mine sent me a link about this guy. He ran 7 marathons, in 7 days, on, uh, 7 continents. Feeling like you did a lot today, punk-ass? Well, you didn’t.
[Aside: Sometimes I will read Tao Lin’s blog and think about how little writing, especially decent writing (most of my writing sucks–but that isn’t really my point here), I actually do. I think, What the fuck? You blog about writing and make a living teaching writing and all of that bullshit, but do you actually do enough writing? No. You fucker. You fucking fraud. Die! Or at least fling yourself into a pile of roadkill (but are the opossums really dead?). Kneel there and inhale reality. (The wet matted skin of a opossum is strangely remarkable, this shade of soft gray.) Something…Then later I’ll just drink beer and let myself off the hook, a little. But, oh the nights (late blue light of thinking) I’ve considered returning to nursing. Oh the nights. Hell, maybe I will. Maybe…Then I think, well Sean, you are a great dad and a decent husband and a damn good disc golfer and runner (relatively) and fisherperson and you care about your teaching, care a lot, so on and so on and why not shut the fuck up? Good advice, actually.]
At least I have a food ethic, that’s something. I will not eat meat I do not personally kill. I suppose that means something. I think so.
I caught a fish once with a bite out of its side, a perfect half moon. I was cutting this vast lakeside yard in Alabama and up walked a zebra and a Great Dane; they walked together, simpatico. That was a weird day. One time I shot my uncle but I didn’t mean to and he didn’t mind. He just shrugged and on we walked down the railroad tracks, no worries. I remember the blood mostly, the sunlight off the rails, and that shrug.
They took us in a room to see a dead person. Like a rite of passage. You are in nursing school, so you are going to see a dead person. Don’t even try to run away. Come on, Mr. Lovelace, and why does your breath smell like tequila? (Thursday was dollar margarita night, Dr. Dyer (We had a nurse who was a doctor, very confusing), you are smelling residue from last night when Peter lifted me above his head and threw me into shrubbery). I see. Come on in here, this room. See that? See that lying there on the bed? It’s a dead person.
I am happy to see writer/blogger/readers continue to give the Nathan Neely piece on elimae some run. He is a grad student at BSU and I once ate caviar and cactus with him (no lie).
Another interesting “text” is this one by Robert J. Baumann. I think this piece could actually be a drinking game, though I am not sure the rules.
I think of all the Drunk History videos, this one is best. I think I have a crush on Jen Kirkman, so maybe that helps, but it is easy to be fascinated with someone in a cool video. Like a singer on a stage in a small nightclub. You’ll get fascinated by them, want to sleep with them, whatever. But if you just met them at Sears they aren’t that fascinating and don’t even have a hobby or any real interests outside mass media consumption and maybe even don’t eat nachos or even nachos (or nachos) and just go around saying lame things like, “In Pulp Fiction, they say the word fuck 400 times.” (They do not. It is 257)
This is the best drunk history.