I went down thar into the hollow I did. Logs the size of Sara. Stairs up and stairs down. Sucky mud. The Eagle Creek Park 15k trail race. I ran that thar 15k over mud and water and weeping skulls of deer. I caterwhomped, I did. I caterwhomped over a log twice and now my L thigh all sore like a thrown crow. CAWWWCK it do so. Ruffled bones.
Place: 17th overall.
Post-race meal: nachos.
Thanks Qdoba! I didn’t know Qdoba didn’t suck. I assumed they were blar. The chips are not blar. They were tight, crispy like aspirin tablets, fresh as the smell of corn gasoline. Perfect balance of corn, salt and fat. Yet can they support the weight of serious nachos? I doubt. So, if you stick with salsas, Qdoba chips are glow. I give them a 6.86 on the LOVELACE SCALE.
Trail running is odd the miles flow by because you aren’t thinking miles you are thinking don’t-bust-ass look at that Bald Eagle holy shit hundreds of wet wooden steps was that a bear? don’t bust ass what a pretty blue fern or was that a Mountain Dew bottle?
The trail runs seems to hanker back to when we were chasing something down or being chased. There is something remembered, recollected. The runner is very present and eons old.
Trail runners are simultaneously ugly and attractive. Covered in mud and beauty.
I prefer trail runs that are NOT loops. This was a loop, 3 times. Two laps I had to keep yelling out, “On your left!” or “On your right!” as I passed people. Annoying, and half the time you shout out, “On your left!” and the damn person jumps left!
The trail run offers the instant opportunity to fall. To fall and tumble is a rush, I’m sorry, a rush to avoid but then embrace. A man fell in front of me, a sort of odd, clunk fall, his legs somehow wrapped in a bog, then he sort of collapsed/crumped at the knees and rolled down.
I slowed and said, “You alright?”
He said, “It happens.” He laughed. It was a muddy laugh.
He’s right: It happens.
I have fallen on rocks, down boulders, while crossing mossy streams, etc. It hurt but I am glad I fell. I climbed something as I fell.
J.A. Tyler emailed me about his new book and said:
If you don’t like my book I’ll write you another book on the inside of that book. Order it, read it. If you don’t like it, ship it back to me & I’ll write a new book for you on the inside of that book. Yes. This is how much I believe in these words. A MAN OF GLASS & ALL THE WAYS WE HAVE FAILED.
This email made me think several things:
1. Couple years ago I remember when Molly Gaudry challenged J. A. Tyler to a publishing battle, like who could publish the most in one year or something. I think J.A. Tyler published 40012 times and Molly went a tad under 300 or so. Lesson: Never challenge Tyler when words are on the line. He will eat your typewriter.
2. J.A. Tyler could and would write an entire book in the pages of another book. I mean he could do it. The man makes Joyce Carol Oates look lazy.
3. J.A. Tyler is everywhere. Example, I sit at a desk right now. In arm’s reach, the new Broken Plate–J.A. Tyler has three texts inside. Oh look, right here behind my computer, The OFFICIAL CATALOG of the LIBRARY of POTENTIAL LITERATURE. Page 1: J.A. Tyler.
4. I have here a pink booklet with the letters MLP stamped across. Boy & She by Jessica Newman.
5. I need to order this new J.A. Tyler book, me thinks.
“We are told, for example, that Ralph Waldo Emerson, while he disapproved of laughter, did occasionally allow himself to smile, but he did so only with his eyes closed.”
Top poem about muffins I’ve read this year: Jeff Alessandrelli brings it a Diagram.
This Kyle Minor CNF interest me. The way it collapses and stretches and then goes spiraling out. It has a vast structure, yet folded into a tight steel canister, thus its pressure.
We begin with the trouble, but where does the trouble begin? My uncle takes a pistol and blows his brains out.
Also I just glow Gulf Coast.
Also years back Kyle Minor and I were drinking incredibly dark beer and he told me a story about a rabbit. Then he said, “Don’t steal that rabbit story.”
Last week I did a 20 miler on the treadmill while listening to an exhaustive three chapters from a long, long book on Siberia and it just now occurred to me how running 20 miles on a treadmill and Siberia are similar.
Teens from around the county spent the night dancing, playing basketball, and eating nachos, all while raising money for community charities. Been digging this cheese lately:
Bake corn tortillas. Add cheese.
Add to your favorite green nacho bowl.
Or even use your backup bowl. (You do have a backup nacho bowl, right? Bought mine a few years back from a BSU student in ceramics. Thank you, BSU student.)
I am late to this party but The Human Mind by Angela Woodward is fucking Mondo Glow!
These flashes wind and set piece break apart piece and take us into tunnels and along the edge of Gothic arches. Sort of like philosophical throwing of glass. Ideas sharded into our guts and eye-meat. Victorian prose spliced with birds made of neon pink. Odd, in a great way. A book that you put down, and think a while, then pick up and read, and think a while. A machine, a lovely machine. I will now go find and read more Angela Woodward.
BSU IN PRINT FESTIVAL is next week!!!
Tina May Hall, Debra Gwartney, and Paul Killebrew will read from their recently published books. The event will be followed by a booksigning and reception.