We won’t stop running ’til we get to the lights,
when we get to the lights we’ll stop running.
We won’t stop running ’til we get to the lights,
when we get to the lights we’ll stop running.
And the lights, are like fiery knives.
Those candles burn with something we’ve got inside.
And you and I, we’ve got a lot to be glad for.
And you and I, we’ve got a lot to be glad for.
We’ve got a lot to be glad for.
March 12, 1946 – June 23, 2008
I got a little aggravated during my run the other night. Nothing was flowing for me. I was running downtown, and my usual issues were getting to me more than usual: uneven pavement punctuated by driveways, pedestrians slowly wobbling and tottering unpredictably in the center of the sidewalk, great food smells during exercise. Drizzle.
No part of me could get in the run, the moment –even my “Power Song” on my Nike+iPod was grating. Then it started raining. Then I got to an intersection where I had to stop. God I was miserable when I saw the guy in the wheelchair on the other side from me.
After I apologized to God for being such an asshole, I thanked God that I was an asshole who could go running in the rain in beautiful downtown Asheville. I turned off the iPod and listened to my breathing for the rest of the run.
I was catching up on back episodes of The Tudors recently, and there was a scene with a man on the rack as they tried to get a confession from him. He did not do the thing they asked about, and so was wretchedly stretched and broken and all agonized howls. All he had to say was “Okay,” and they’d stop and just neatly, quickly slice off his head (an inevitability anyway).
I thought, man, put a pair of dirty contact lenses on me, chap my lips, and keep me from brushing my teeth for about 8 hours and I’ll tell you anything. That’s really all I thought. I don’t have any new insight or resolve or anything. Well, except I’m happy I have chapstick and I’m not on the rack.
If Gary hadn’t existed in my life, it would have been necessary to invent him.
I was told last year I had young hands
They are haunted by Minnesota
They are marred by punctuation
riddled and dired
like dried ripples appled
killed by fascination;
ridden
verdant and voluptuous, verdant and voluptuous,
A story of backs and beggars
burned alive
such great hands
dired
for gary m my favorite
succinct as born yesterday
watching you tired watch me
sing the best mercies cryers of dull dark bore
sing the best mercies of dark palindromes
sing ourselves
I cannot figure out my favorite disease
scalding cauldrons of rage
clip
clip
clap!
Actually, I think the Official Name is “The Rush!”
I noticed the upcoming temps were going to be running-around-a-lake unfriendly, so, a few days ago, I decided to take advantage of the free 10 day trial memberships I heard The Rush! was givin’ out. Ok. Between the TWO HUMMERS they have for their advertising-covered garishly emblazoned advertising vehicles and the Fisher-Price color scheme inside, I was embarrassed and offended to be in there.
But I did it anyway, as exercise is important to me – clears my mind and all that. See, I swing both ways in the comfort and resource-intensive ways of doing things. I was delighted that the treadmills have fans built in, for example, and that some of the stationary bikes have ipod docks/headphone jacks and a pretty big screen, so I can watch “Damages” or old Frontlines if I want to, while making sure I maintain the proper watts output. (rpm is so 2002.)
""even as we speak the Dirty Creature springs a nasty surprise...""
- split enz
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| Asheville |
