December 15, 2002

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    Still running (7 miles yesterday, 4.2 today) and writing in the cemetery here in wintry, late-fall Northern Ohio.  But now, after running, when I’m consequently sweaty, I take to the cab of my truck to write rather than risk catching a chill outdoors. 


     


    While running today, I realized that my modus operandi vis a vis running is precisely now contrary to what it was while I was in the military years ago.  Then, though I quite often ran through a cemetery (Corozal, Panama), I never, except for one shocking psychic moment, stopped running while in the cemetery, but always ran back to ‘home base’ unstoppingly.  But now, I always end in the cemetery.  How the hell did the cemetery become my new ‘home base’? 

    Hey, I’m not concerned that I’ve yinned my yang.  I think, indeed, that this reversed implementation now matches up well with another realization that occurred to me right after running yesterday: that I’ve transformed my warrior role from service to the state into one of failsafe rebel.   And what that means is that I exist to crush our government should it ever attempt a wholesale curtailment of our freedoms.  Precisely the notion that ran through my head was this: ‘If our government ever stifles freedom so entirely—on whatever grounds or for whatever justification—so as to become indistinguishable from a totalitarian regime, the counter-measures I’ll undertake to devastate the regime will make today’s terrorists appear to by fighting by Marquis of Queensbury rules.’ 

    Yep, I’m now a rebel-in-waiting and hoping never to see 'the day'.  For the true warrior yearns for the fate of the proverbial Maytag repairmen: waiting un- (but not dys-) functional till all the laundry’s done.


     



     


    Hey, don’t look at me that way—what did you expect?  I’d never ever want Bush’s Borg-total-control-clone to consider me more than once as anything but nondescript.

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