August 30, 2004

  • Salvage a weekend when it rains and rains and rains.


    How?


    Bowie: 'turn and face the strain.'


    Ebola? No!


    Just running 5 miles in dreamland (aka --yesterday-- as nightmareland) without my 'legs' under me but on heart and soul alone.  Limp repetitive feet extending only half-intelligently forward.   Rubber knees yearning only to double-down upon the pavement.   Crazy sadistic hallucinations of growing old, growing old.  Collapse.  Into a pile.  And sleep.


    How the hell could anyone ever imagine to create a name like 'Rumpelstiltskin'?! heh


    But sleep I did not.  Unlike he, in this life I've yet a love to love, and less than loving is a loss gone beyond woe..


    So thank you, Crumpledplatformmembrane, but no.


    After running, I stumbled toward a complex of buildings used by groundskeepers as one of four work centers.  This one had an outdoor picnic table  in the middle and I decided to regroup there, enjoy a beer, and attempt to gather enough inspiration to write.



    But all I did was manange was scrutinize the grounds.  Two surprises found:



    A tomato garden.  I picked the reddest one and ate it.  mm-mm good.



    ... I entered the rest room intending only to use the urinal.  Walking into the restroom was a little spooky since it was all dark and I needed to find and flip on the light. Having done so, I noticed two stalls in addition to the urinals, and though I didn't intend to use them, I said out loud to hopefully nobody present: "I'm just going to have a look in here to make sure there are no dead bodies hanging out."  And I laughed out loud when I found this 'leisure reading' amidst the land of the dead.

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