After having run through a barrage of days of 90-degree tropical humidity-type weather, it was finally just a pleasure today to run in 85-degrees and 20% humidity.  So much so that I tacked on a couple of extra miles and stretched it out to 7.  heh, on my last lap I caught up with a couple of young girls who were running ahead of me.  When I run, I can be such a simple guy that I found it a genuine thrill just to say “hi” to them and then go on paving my own solitary way.

Now (right now) I rest after the run.  It’s just a perfect summer day as I watch three dragonflies skirmish-play above the hills of Dreamland.

In the distance, there’s what I assume is an ice cream truck playing the theme from “The Sting”.  The music is just about as loud as the birds in the trees nearby and wafts in and out with the breeze.

Oh, now the ice cream truck has been drowned-out by the bellowing rumble of a train passing about a mile away.  Oh well, I didn’t want any ice cream anyway.

*sips on beer*

You know, as I just closed my eyes here in Dreamland and “looked” towards the Sun, I lost track of both locality and temporality.  Yaqui sorcerers  used to call such “a shift in the assemblage point of perception.”  I call it sailing through the heliosphere by letting the solar wind inflate one's sail.  Or getting lost in the vast incandescing Ocean of Incalescence. 

That's my story:  Always lost.  And on the run.