Tuesday, June 29, 2004

Uphill Both Ways

You think I am kidding. I cried. I did not stop but I did cry. You see that little saddle spike at about 65 miles? There, I got religion and my throat ached and I cried. I climbed and climbed and climbed and climbed to mountain prairies and icy lakes, got passed by riders older, uglier, fatter then me, was profoundly equalized. I depleted every bit of glycogen in my muscles and do believe that I cannibalized my own self to make it through, physically and psychically.
You see, I have ridden centuries (bicycle rides >100 miles) before...117 miles, 110 miles, 103 miles...am fast, kick ass, afraid of no hill... and so maybe I was a little blithe, dismissive, did not train, was not scared, should have been scared.
It was uphill both ways, it was always uphill. The first ten miles was a slow climb followed by a second ten miles of sheer cliffside ascent. Then 80 more miles at 5000 feet elevation (I live 20 feet above sea level). Every quarter mile of downhill or flat road was covered in like, a minute and a half and the corresponding climb back up was like ten minutes in a head wind. I was totally vexed by the fact that I could not remember the opening lines to my favorite song and everytime I tried to belt it out it mutated into GnR Sweet Child O' Mine and was double-vexed that there were so few sing-able stretches.
I cannot emphasize this enough. This ride was the most difficult thing I have ever done in my life. You have no idea how much you should respect me.
Actually I lied. I did stop. Once. Near the end of the course there was an nine mile descent that proved to be the most painful part of the ride. Ironic I know, but this was a steep grade and required a lot of muscular discipline that I no longer had. I actually had to stop because my hands were tingling up to my forearms and my calves and feet were just plain numb...not tinglely even. Numb. I stopped, put my feet on the ground and did not move cause I didn't think that my legs would support me if I did. I stood there holding onto my bike covered in the salty grit of every last electrolyte in my body for like three or four minutes till I felt recovered enough to finish the descent. And the wind blowing up from the valley didn't help. I really wanted to beat my personal downhill record which is 49.9 mph coming down the Teton Pass in Wyoming, and was trying hard to tuck into it but couldn't get over 43 mph. The wind was fierce. I was no longer fierce.
And the odometer read 7534 feet of accumulative ascent by the end of the ride.

Monday, June 28, 2004

Wednesday, June 23, 2004

The Buried Narrative

I am leaving soon, hopping on the freeway south for five hours for Saturdays ride with my dad. Am dragging my feet something terrible, gotta do laundry and pack still. Watta bum!

The results from last weekends race are in. I ran 8k in 42:42:45, or about 8:35/mile. Not too bad. 5/34 Women, 22/67 overall.

In other news, Sam is teaching me to curse in Italian...Cazzu! At work I am learning to say please and thank you in Thai. I feel more comfortable being rude in the Latin languages I guess.

Fed Up

UUUH, I shouldn't be up. I popped into consciousness this morning like premature birth and there is no going back to sleep. I want to follow up on this...

Both my brothers live by this isolationist doctrine that is totally foreign to me. I mean, I grew up smack in the middle of the two, superlatively distinct eras of family life that shaped these two souls. You would think that if this trait was indicative of something elemental in our household that I too would be shaped by its force...or maybe the subtlety passed me by entirely. My younger brother, J., is stubborn (good god!) and hunkered down like he has to insulate himself against fatal forces of bad influence... my older brother, M., is nursing wounds and making the worlds biggest pearl out of the raw materials of neglect and resentment.

J. seems to think that if you talk him into liking a new song then he is done for...
M. acts like we were all listening to the song for time immemorial before we let him in on it...

And this is what kills me, they both have fallen for the biggest social swindle and egotistical fallacy of all time, the Great American Myth of the Individual. Do we all really think that our actions and consequences belong to us? Don't we owe it to each other to not kill one another with emotional fallout?

Where do I start?
J. is going to Iraq. Oh sweet Jesus I am dying here....I love this kid like crazy mad, more then he could understand. It was a rough stretch there when he came along and we were more like a band of fugitives then a family, all kinda distrustful and desperate at the same time. He doesn't remember that particular emotional climate but I do, and I took care of him, made sure he survived, rollerskated around the kitchen, cooked him dinner...

Littler then me

And he is accepting Iraq like a bitter pill, ran off and married his sweetheart, got heady notions about duty and brotherhood, and is totally intolerant of suggestions that this is at all avoidable. Like this is his, affects noone else, is none of anyone's business. He was deployed to Egypt for a year, moved to Montana and is getting activated again, though there maybe some safeguard in his case against immediate re-activation. He yelled at me THERE ARE GUYS IN HIS UNIT WITH NEW BABIES, WHAT MAKES HIM SPECIAL? He gets angry at the perceived suggestion that he should shirk his responsibilities. But what the fuck are we supposed to do? It is survival instinct. Panic. This changes our lives, is changing your life...THIS IS HAPPENING TO ME TOO YOU SELFISH PRICK. I just wanna push him down on his ass for being so fucking stubborn but I don't dare cause my ass-kicking fortune turned about seven years ago during one of his adolescent growth spurts.

Bigger then me

And then there is M. Man oh man, he was always bigger then me and never let me forget it. I sprained my wrist once trying to smack him and the way I am feeling right now I would do it again. M. ran off and married the biggest bitch west of the Mississippi and I will throw her into any dog fight to prove it. Sheri is his second wife, is not the mother of his two children and is one wicked broad. M. hoards himself to himself with justified acrimony and she is like a fucking curator for his museum of pain. As long as he can get mileage out of his perceived wounds, his aches, his betrayals he will never let them go. He hoards his children, he hoards his fraternity and his kinship. She is incredibly adept at applying logical fallacies using pop-psychology language to make it all meaningful. She sees my mother as a mortal enemy, like some reverse Psycho Oedipus complex in which winning his attention is a zero-sum game. This has been going on for too long time.

Thick headed

But now she is playing the endgame. She has upstaged all this other grief by triumphantly excommunicating my mother on the most absurd charges...because she wrote letters to B* (mother of my niece and nephew). I cant stand it. I am going to put gum in her hair and sign her up for ten thousand magazine subscriptions. And he thinks his children is HIS*HIS*HIS and don't exist for the rest of us, but with his sanction and blessing only.

Tuesday, June 22, 2004

I Always Drink Tequila On My Birthday

The Mystery Drive...I have this other hard drive that went bad, is unreliable...bastard drive. Sometimes it is there, sometimes it is gone. I keep meaning to back up my files, two years of files from the coast and the first year back in the city. Today the drive was here, havent seen these picture for months.


And I always regret it.


The Word

Just found out a few minutes ago...I got accepted into the SLIP.
Feeling pretty pleased wit myself!

Sweet Blood

I was the pink-polka dot kid, covered with calamine lotion all summer long. One year the teacher called my mother, thought I had the measles or the mumps or something to explain all those bumps. It was really that bad....till about the time I started smoking. Now they are after me again, I found a mosquito on me in the shower for chrissake.

Monday, June 21, 2004

In Case You Don't Have Enough To Worry About

The Aral Sea is disappearing. The earth is getting hotter, dimmer, ickier, uglier...

"The Aral Sea receives only a tenth of the water it once did and has shrunk to half its original size.... A new UN report says the Aral Sea, wedged between Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan, has shrunk by half. The 106-page report warns: "If present trends continue, the Aral Sea will disappear altogether in the not-so-distant future, despite the many piecemeal efforts to save it. Bo Libert, a regional adviser for the UN Economic Commission for Europe, says the damage is so devastating that no matter what revitalizing measures are taken, the sea will never be what it was. "

I Thought I Put All the Chaos and Angst Behind Me

Music: Mirah You Think Its Like This But Really Its Like This

The heat gave way to spontaneous passionate skies, dark clouds, thunder and lightening. I ran through Forest Park above the city where the humid wind shook down leaves and cottonwood puffs, stirred up dust and that heady smell of earth. I knew the minute I stopped that I ran too far, did more harm then good.

Kay's Party

Big dog, big huge dog and mini pocket size dog. The guy on the left sat there by him self for like two hours making farting noises every time someone went by and set himself to drunken laughing fits.

Ran the 8k in damn hilly park, which is actually a mini extinct volcano and napped most of the day away after that, feeling like my bones were breaking. I went to a party later in the evening in this crazy backyard with tree lofts and firepits and hidden loveseat swings under paper lanterns and feathery tree limbs just dumbstruck tired...let them do all the talking and sat thinking about not much at all, thinking about mint and raspberry bushes and the smell of fresh crushed leaves...

More old friends, Sam again, Andy, Courtney, Joe who it is delightful to see, says he has a job for me...
*Where are they coming from*

Sam and I went to see Dame Darcy this afternoon in the sweltering heat, whispered SHE FEELS LIKE HIGH SCHOOL and we are inextricably mired in the past. She says accusingly there were times that I got mad at her, am territorial, it is all suspect again. Sometimes friendships are harder then romance.

And yeah, there were times when I have behaved horribly, threw a carved wooden giraffe across the room at her birthday party and she punched me in the mouth. My boyfriend at the time was about as sinkable as a seafoam and hypnotically calm, was tonic for me until I became disgusted and bored at his lack of justifiable ire...I was a terrible brat. I was thunderstorms and power outages, flat tires, running out of gas under crackling power lines, rockslides, sharkbites, fistfights... and hopelessly highminded about things I had no context to understand. Mad at the wrong thing, this night stands out...laying on my older brothers couch watching Saturday Night Live Ace and Gary with him and my dad and they are laughing, and its so unpleasant, redneck chortling and snorting and I am screaming HOW FUCKING DARE YOU and I stomp out to the car, write a letter to my mom about the trials of family using lines stolen verbatim from her journal, something I memorized ten years earlier...and what I want to say, what I should have been saying was HEY DAD, WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU FOR SEVENTEEN YEARS, DID YOU KNOW THAT I CRIED MYSELF TO SLEEP? But I rode in the car sullen staring out the window, half shrugs and monosyllables for three hundred miles...cause it was all about social injustice...

Everything got sweet and sour, like Sarah always falling in love too hard, hopped trains, went a thousand miles away she is the left ventricle of my heart, Katie and I locked in wicked self-destruction till it finally imploded and we didn't speak for too too long, Dave wants to walk 20 miles in the dark cause he is fed up with me being forever evasive, John swooped in one hot summer night when we were drunk throwing garbage cans out the second story window, he said he came to save me but he made me cry. I tried to bite him and left him sitting in the dark, moved away. But man there is a lot wrong in the world and there is nothing I can do because I am sick and trying to make it in the city on a thinthinthin yard sale mattress from an old married couple set so deep in their ways I dream her dreams, then roll over and dream his dreams. He comes to visit and I stare at him horizontal, napping next to me infuriated with his calm that I no longer find calm.... I broke up with him by never calling again.

Today now, all the light and heat of summer suddenly and suprisingly upon us. The sidewalk glinting cruely. I mean, none of this even has to come up, doesn't come up but it is there just the same. YOU GOT THE TATTOO she says, WE WERE ALL THREE SUPPOSED TO GET IT... I forgot all this stuff in the interim, grew up, grew calm, grew roots ya know, and have this aching for gentleness, for the smell of blossoms, swingsets, trailing vines, scattering seeds for song birds, hummingbirds, blackberry jam, swimming holes...

But she reminds me that I totally deserve every punch in the nose I ever got. Its true too!

Friday, June 18, 2004

Saturday Race Day

Running an 8k tomorrow at 10am. Thinking I should get some sleep but feeling poignantly un-sleepy. Laying under the fan feeling hypnotized, feeling like a summer storm, feeling manifest ownership of my body. I think I could consume you.


My little colony of mushrooms is growing. The first one died and these two popped up in its place. I love them cause they are bright yellow and there are like a hundred wee babies pushing up in the soil. So far they seem totally harmless to both me and the plant so I am going to keep them around, will nurture them and sing them songs...I wonder what the airborne spores will do?

Oy, just remembered Kay is having a party. Guess I should put on some clothes and head out for a bit. (If You See Kay...tell her I said Hi, lalalala...)

By the way, I got an A in my ASL class...go figure?! I shouldnt worry so much.

Wednesday, June 16, 2004


It is HOT out, and beauttiful and perfect and evokes nothing in me but simple joy...houseflies in lazy circles and housecat dozing on the stoop, tail twitching. I have the day off from everything, went to Home Depot for potting soil and ended up being followed around the store by an employee eager to talk and eager to please. I inspire some kind of affection from these young guys, who alternately confide and boast...it happens stores like GI Joes and Home Depot and Automotive stores where I wander around hopelessly till I figure out how to ask a question...
I sound like I know nothing at all, which I dont and they love me for it. I had to get a stud-finder to hang my bicycle hook and a special battery for my car alarm beeper-thing and now I know about Corvette keys, their alarm systems and factory key chains cost like, 40 bucks? did you know that? And I probably dont want to by a 6 volt drill, gotta have at least 12 but I could also borrow one from a neighbor, and a small screwdriver is really handy but I can put the battery in for you if you dont have one at home. He has lots of friends in various states of car worship/delima and finally I have to just pull away like taffy and say goodbye. They love me, have a real affinity for me.

Monday, June 14, 2004

I Want To Be Seen

Man, these are days... living in a country run by a man whose emotional range is SMUG (some occasional coveting) and if he wins a second term we are SCREWED. A sitting duck president with four years of not having to worry about re-election. At least Reagan had charisma.


Hey! I have been trying to get into the Chance Meetings and the I Saw You section of the personals for a long damn time (riding around on city busses looking sad and yet evocative in a lily print dress, reading Punk PLanet in public squares, making eye contact during rush hour) and short of taking out my own ad I figure a little coaching doesn't hurt...
DO be witty and charming
DO be sure to mention the fantastical first impression I made on you
DO be enraptured by the second, third and fourth impressions if the situation dictates
DO be pickled by the heart on my sleeve
DON'T be too blunt, were talking intrigue
DON'T be trapped by boring facts: Chem Lab, 9am you have a short space to make an impression
DON'T end your ad with: coffee? Be original.

I have been clipping ads that I fancy for quite awhile. I am listing a few of them here.
Library Girl

You are like a tree trunk in the snow. A little push should be enough to set you rolling. No, it can't be done, for you are firmly wedded to the ground. But see, even that is only appearance. Send an email!

You: Skirt Me: Pants... Let's make sweet sweet love. Send an email!
You tell secrets in your sleep! Are you in love with a sandwich. I wish I was that sandwich. I can dress up like a sandwich. Wanna sandwich? 8425
Oh Well

6/23 You ~ all black & holding a little bag, you looked like you had a lot to say. When we got on the bus you looked out the window & looked really sad. I really wanted to talk to you. Send an email!
Addis Apparition

Saturday morning coffee is the only thing in this world that passes for heaven. Come with me to Africa and we can travel the hot, fertile Nile Valley at midnight and make out in the moonlight. Let's run away. Send an email!
OMG can I do you now? Send an email!
Fred Meyer, St. Johns, Friday, 28th May, about 5.p.m. Registers next to each other. You: woman, sweat type suit, curly hair, gorgeous! Me: man with daughter, very interested,are you?
You: blue car Me: black truck. Morning commute, Sunset Highway. You drive too fast. Sex?

Really, I don't own a lily print dress, god forbid....and I don't do Chemistry Labs at any time of the day.

I Am Full of Bad Ideas

Music: Modest Mouse Good News For People Who Love Bad News

Damn, I have been trying to get online all day and for some reason Internet Explorer would not navigate past Yahoo without freezing up. Man what a pain. I sent so many of those stupid little Error Reports to Microsoft they probably have a file on me.

I went out last night after work with my friend Kay and spent the day trying to not die...SICK SICK SICK and feeling inexplicably hyperbolic. I lay in bed most of the day dozing and exaggerating on paper, on the phone, in my dreams, to myself. I have these three stickers on the ceiling above my bed that say LIVE YOUR LIVE so I know what to do and why to get up, and strewn about on my bed a hundred thousand words. I am a word whore with no shame, books and zines and magazines and texts and encyclopedias and dictionaries and notepads.... Last night I went to bed with a pen in my hand and don't really remember writing this:

Maggie shocks self when she reaches to serve herself first. Fried rice. Enervated, she initiates divorce proceedings against her husband Thom. It will be 20 years till fruition.

And weird dreams....

He is upset cause he sees the word RAPE anagramed in THERAPY and the caffeine warnings on the backs of tea bags say you better hold her late into the night, and you better hold tight. He is crazy, wandered in off the street and I wont let him use the bathroom. We wrestle in the bathtub and I laugh with the cops.


I am surrounded by ghosts. Ex-boyfriends whose last names I cant remember anymore and girls who learned all about sex and love and loss right along beside me pretending we already knew, and boys whose parents phone numbers I still have memorized, and the exponential flowering of old acquaintances. Kay and Layla and Ron and Randy and Lori and Lucia and Todd and oh My God it is so weird...like my life got detoured for six years and all the sorrow and strain of life with Jason is just being sutured up by the end of THINGS AS THEY WERE with the beginning THINGS AS THEY ARE ONCE AGAIN and all that time was like an ill-advised shortcut that drops you off right where you detoured from, a seamless transition from the past to now. And a faint little bump of a scar that I run my fingers over once in awhile. Baffling memories of a dream half remembered. Eerie.


Just so you all know that I am not totally full of hogwash, no sugar means I don't add it to my coffee, and no coffee means three times a week instead of three times a day, and no alcohol means once or twice a month, though that seems, in the light of day, particularly ill-advised. Its an exercise in relativity.

And amends, I am an incorrigible mindwanderer and I look at everybodys butt. The last week I have been extra-super distraced and I am probably checking out your nice bits rather then paying attention.

cant seem to get online

Thursday, June 10, 2004

Deify Reagan?

Okay, I have been pretty tolerant but I think its time to get over it...Ronald Reagan a national treasure? Pfft, please...
I mean, sure he is dead, and yeah, he was president for eight years but lets not re-write history. Ronald Reagan was a selfish old geezer with greasy hair who did what he could to keep it all to himself, and he couldn't take it all with him after all. HAHA

Here Goes....

After getting all biblical, I am going to miss out on a six mile run today. Oh well. I have to go to my SLIP* interview...and this is it guys...this is the enterance exam. Futures are made, won, lost, broken. Wish me luck!

*Sign Language Interpreter Program for those in the know.

Wednesday, June 09, 2004

Sprints and Shin Splints

I am clutching my madstone, and the sky is lust and rage and in the dusk all the greens are GREEN and every sound is hushed like ocean waves in a thick fog. I can only hear myself breathing with my footfalls under a canopy of trees where the sidewalk stays wet for two days after the rain. In the west the clouds are amber ocher and heartbreaky and the sun is weak behind them. I cant stop watching the sky. Its like reading my dairy. Everything I have ever felt is up there, the imperceptible yearnings and that sad disorientation you felt when you woke up from a nap and you were just a kid and the windows were all open, maybe everyone was in the back yard and you weren't sure why they were laughing....
I am all fire, my planets and stars and runes and tealeaves, I am fire and air and wood and I burn like mad. I belong here, where the inhabitants of this land are viscous and clammy and moist like slugs. I run in the slanting rain just to damper the inferno, splashing through puddles ankle deep with raindrops breaking the surface tension like people dancing. Holy shit. I feel like my chest is going to explode when I look at the sky. But I was born with a caul over my head so I am safe here. I will not drown.
I am in love again with the fury of motion. It is my fucking religion.

The Year of the Tiger, Poor, Poor Tiger....

I know, I know...its not the year of the tiger, but it should be.
And the grammatical cuties are not mine...
I would put a link directly to this page but the link opens as a window without an address bar???
Anyway, things arent looking up for me...Imagine my whole graduating class of women running around outgunning their partners. They unleashed us onto the world!!

... a symbol of luck

Miss Tiger
Miss Tiger is one of the most charismatic Ladies, with a big heart and a wonderful character. *shucks*

Nevertheless she is the most complicated from the 12 symbols and the biggest challenge for every man.

Her logic is so very different from the rest of the world, that it is almost impossible, to have a peaceful relationship with her.

One has to consider, that a big part of her personality contains more male elements than even some men can throw in.

That`s why she is so strong and wild, what does kill relationships more often and leaving broken hearts behind. In fact this is very sad, as Miss Tiger is without a doubt one of the most adorable women. *aww, gee*

Tiger love is very emotional and their love goes more than deep. Not much of a problem for them, but for those, who fall in love with Tigers and who will have to explore their very own special logic. Very few signs are able to share such difficult romance and have to run away with greatest pain.

Tiger Demi Moore and Goat Bruce Willis ended as sad as Tiger Tina and Goat Ike or Goat Pam Anderson and her Tiger Tommy Lee, who had tried it very hard despite their love was like living in hell.

Mr. Tiger can even be gentle at times, but Miss Tiger offers the real volcano experience for all those, who feel strong enough to explore the wildest possible female experience.

Traveling is what all Tigers love madly and a strong passion for justice and freedom is one of their driving forces.

Are You Compatible with Me?
Dragon: Tigers expect reliability and depth whilst Dragons fly high. Nevertheless, they like each other a lot.
Rabbit: Limited chances for understanding, but still it may work.
Tiger: It may work for a while, but chances are slim and risks enormous like shown by Penelope Cruz and Tom Cruise.
Buffalo: Exceptions are, but overall a true mission impossible as both seek something totally different.
Rat: Why not. Both enjoy communication and frequent journeys into different cultures.
Pig: Intellectual differences could be a problem, but for both it`s one of the most exciting and promising encounters.
Dog: Claudia Dog Schiffer and Tiger Tim Jeffries might have had a great future, but failed in the end.
Rooster: Almost impossible, because Miss Chicken will feel neglected and Mr. Cock doesn`t like tears.
Monkey: Monkeys play and laugh a lot until Tiger gets wild. Poor, poor Tiger.
Goat: Instant sympathy, but then even the hardest nightmares will be very hard to escape as Love goes deep. Very sad is, that marriages between Tigers and Goats are usually fatal.
Horse: Not bad in every aspect, but when these two strong egos clash, things might get extreme.
Snake: Emotional differences will make it very difficult at many levels.

P.S. Ma, you're a Goat

Tuesday, June 08, 2004

Looking Up At the Sky

Most of that awful pain is gone but for residual numbness in my thumb and an aching fragility...a sorta sweet sorrow for my corporeal body, and for yours too. We're dying you know?

I got asked two things in an email:
Have I flunked any more ASL tests?
What about the Biologists?

Well, you will be proud to know, I got a perfect score on my last test. My final exam is tomorrow night and I will be videotaped telling a story using all the technical syntax, conjugation and grammar from the term...demonstrable understanding of the subject matter and I will do just fine.

What about the Biologist? His ex-wife is dying of cancer and he is doing what he can to support her....again that aching. Geez, what an odd time for a light laugh and a sly smile. I swear my stars are aligned like broken vertebrae. But he is sweet and kind and far away. Its perfect. I am a remote planet...unconfirmed to sustain life but gravity can hold you in orbit if you want to be my moon.

Recently he and I went out to eat and this girl, this face, this old friend from high school taps me on the shoulder and, I mean, Whoa, what do you do? She is in all my pictures, she knows all my stories. She remembers my green hair and the time I drank her mothers rum and got sick off the back deck. I once spent a whole weekend hiding at her house and I got caught anyway. Oh man did we laugh. So yeah, she said, lets double-date sometime. It is so "Happy Days"....I don't know if I have ever gone on an official double-date but my god, it makes for a great plot line. Lets do it!


Anyway, I am strained these days. My family is falling apart and I feel fierce, am painting my face for battle but really? I am totally powerless. Its only the act of beating the war drums with righteous indignation, that keeps me from having to take in the scope of things and be crushed by them.

I spent a lot of this last week gritting my teeth and humming a tune (for some reason I have had that song Guilty feet have got no rhythm... stuck in my head for like three whole days now). There is a numbness that spreads all over you when you try to reckon fairness and bargain advantages, shaking your fists skyward and then just letting them fall in your lap undecided and unresolved. I try to keep it in context and it feels like there is not enough context in all the world. I am whispering hoo-doo epithets to the ethers. Man can I curse up a holy blue streak.

I went to a BBQ Saturday afternoon with a hundred thousand kids chasing chickens and a lousy garage band. There was cheese dip and scraped knees and a few raindrops...The sky here, it can make up your mind for you. It is that persuasive. Outside, it's rainbow weather.

Monday, June 07, 2004


Numbness and dull pain, smeared mascara and drooped lids...wandering from room to room then back to bed with a book or a notepad, meaningless and flung aside. I got drafts and scribbles, ankle deep in crosshatched lists of things I do, did, want to share, am afraid to share...
From down here you see the cracks and the mildew. Things dont look as strong and sturdy, including versions of your own self.

I have it all here. I cant quite say it cause I dont quite know how to feel. Not yet...

Sunday, June 06, 2004


I want to light a thousand tiny fires...

Friday, June 04, 2004

My Thoughts Just Trail Off......

Wow, if I thought I was messed up before.....
I tried everything I could to get to sleep last night and not even the pain medication helped. Finally I gave in and turned the lights back on and tried to read. I dozed off with a Seymore Hersh article on my chest and woke up in tears. This is the second time George Bush has made me cry.

I was brought to a small cell that already housed two Arab-American men. It was a small, dusty, green moldy, hanging-lightbulbs-rotting-floorboards basement cell. I asked to use the computer to contact my friends and family to let them know where I was, but was told the computer was for Political Access only. Finally they relented and someone called my mother (I think). I was clutching the article that had led to my arrest, a news headline that I had posted to my blog with the text body saying Bush is unfit to be president. A committee, whose byline I cannot remember gave the reason for my detainment...something about inappropriate political leanings...and there was no trial. After I got all the papers from my mother I said goodbye and went back. Bush was in the cell giving a PR broadcast about how he is in touch with the people and looking out for them against injustice. My foot went through a floorboard. I cried.


I saw another sunrise. There are bags under my eyes and my hair feels brittle and my thoughts are mostly monosyllabic. After you break it all down you have to build it back up stronger, that is where the problem lies...not enough sleep for the amount of training that I am doing. I am just breaking it down. After I finally got back to sleep this morning I slept till 3pm. But I am still in defeciet. Where does that put me on tonights schedule?

Thursday, June 03, 2004

Fleet Feet

Man, I cant remember the last time I was perky at 5am. The sunrise was beautiful and it was easier to walk around barefooted under a pink sky then try to sleep on a grumpy and uncooperative shoulder. I stayed up for two hours and mapped out every single training day between now and October 3rd, Marathon day. I mapped out easy days, cross training day, long slow distance runs, tempo runs, repeats and rest days. 550 miles in 123 days, including today and race day...barring injury and scheduling difficulties. Ambitious, I know, and a little intimidating. There are 8, 10, 12, 14, 16, 18 and 20 mile runs scheduled, as well as 3 and 4 mile sprints and hill charges. I am excited.

At 7am I crawled back in bed and finally got comfortable enough to sleep.

Wednesday, June 02, 2004

Goodness and Light

I am still disoriented but its a much nicer kind of disorientation, like fuzzy-brained on a heating pad watching Absolutely Fabulous, which by the way, works wonders. The publication party was today on a sweltering hot patio with cookies melting and warm lemonade. I could feel my heart beating through my ribcage, watching fuzzy tufts of pollen float across the blue, blue sky. Damn Blue! From the podium bits of poetry and prose, I followed tufts of words that strung together incongruous images and thoughts that seemed drawn out beyond my comprehension. The pollen made a lot more sense to me.

They say one of the dangers of derivative drugs like vicodin is that it fills you with a false sense of well being but it seems to me that one of the greatest dangers life has to offer is a false sense of looming disaster. And it logically reasons out, inspired by pills or not, that I have much to be grateful for. Everything I place a premium on, I have in abundance: health, friendship and perspective. And I am working on my posture. There is nothing in my databank of worries that poses a mortal threat to me, nor would I have one IOTA of control over such a threat.

My fungus friend

I have a colony of bright yellow mushrooms pushing up in one of my house plants. They are quite lovely. I am singing Mississippi John Hurt songs to them. I cannot get swept up in fungus-passion though cause I have another ASL test tonight and my track record, as you know, is not so good.


Interesting article.

One of the most important disorders is the antisocial, sociopathic, or psychopathic personality disorder. This disorder is chiefly characterized by a personal history of chronic and continuous antisocial behavior in which the rights of others are violated. Poor or nonexistent job performance is another major indicator. Persons with antisocial personality disorder make up a significant portion of the criminal and delinquent elements of society. Besides persistent criminality, the symptoms may also include sexual promiscuity or sexual aggression and drug addiction or alcoholism. Sociopaths generally accept their behavior as natural, feel no guilt when they hurt others, see little reason for or possibility of change, and resist therapy. — Encyclopedia Britannica, "personality disorder".

Tuesday, June 01, 2004

An Ill Wind Blows

I have some muscle-oid under my shoulder blade that is freaking out and putting the squeeze on a nerve that runs to the very tips of my fingers. AGONY! LEAVE MY NERVE ALONE. The last three days have been a real trial of patience, and well, not a very successful one at that. Mostly I just keep my eyes closed and hold my breath as much as possible which seems to work as long as I peek out often enough to check where I am going. There is nothing in my power to kill the pain. Right now I am waiting to see if vicodan can do it. Has time stopped? I am eager to crawl back into my skin. Dr. Dan told me all the hows and whys while he harassed my muscle into being nice again. All my instincts are wrong here, I should have heated but I iced, shoulda straightened but I curled, shoulda breathed deep but I panted. Now I just want to be knocked out for a short while, just give me a fucking break.

And its all shaking down too. Like, work drama and family crisis and physical injury and financial hardship. I can hang, ya know... normally, but this pain, its like unbelievably disorienting and I have exercised some bad judgment within its parameters. Mostly hollering then crying and shaking my fist at the same time. I ran the 10k race on Monday morning regardless and rose above for a short while. I finished in 53:04, or 8:55/mile....a whole minute per mile faster then the Bloomsday run but a much straighter shot. Katrina and R- walked the course and came in DEAD LAST. I called her the night before and was furious with her for being drunk cause I wanted the race to be for her what it was for me. I want to save her life, I want to quit smoking for her, I want to convert her, get her strung out on endorphins. But to her credit she was up and at it first thing and finished with bloody blisters and all. I spent the rest of the day trying to nap away my furies and ouchies.

I am keeping a low profile for the rest of the week till this passes. Hunker down and hold on to what you got. My sister-in-law (older brothers wife) sent my mother an enraged and vitriolic email in response to an announcement that my younger brother got the offical word about being sent to Iraq and I am all fired up. The crux of the matter is the extreme self-centeredness it takes to respond to a woman whose youngest child is being sent to war with an estranging letter about how hurt you are that she is in regular communication with the ex-wife and mother of her grandchildren... Follow the logic? Maybe that vicodan is kicking in. Later. I will explain later. I have this gigantic proprietary instinct for people and places that I love. They become mine, they are mine and my fighting insticnts are fierce.


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