It’s John Milton’s Birthday!!!!
We have a reading tonight at BSU Bracken Library, 5-7.
I refuse to read anything by John Milton.
So. I am reading something about margaritas and fasting and divorce and the real lack of impassioned speech in this world.
Whew. Just ran a pretty tight fartlek/temp thing. 5.5miles total, including warm up. I feel good, that tired good that makes your legs sweet, the mouth a little taste of blood, the lungs tight. Makes you feel alive. Juices coursing, your body an earth, veins all tributaries and flow. Etc.
2min @ 6:oo/2min 5:52
One mile 5:45
2min 6:oo/2min 5:52
One mile 5:45
2min @ 5:27
Pretty solid. I dedicate this workout to Katherine Switzer, the first woman to enter and run the Boston Marathon. This was illegal since the marathon was sexist, as in men only. Scientists (also sexist) at the time thought a woman would die if she ran 26. 2 miles. Katherine entered as a “bandit,”one my favorite running terms. While running the race, she was attacked by a race official!!
Pretty cool, eh?
1.) Note how immediately two runners start kicking the official’s ass. Runners always backup runners.
2.) How bout them sweats? I imagine that added about 20minutes onto her finishing time.
3.) She’s just smiling it off. That’s what runners do. During my last race, an ultra in Kentucky, I stepped on a root and busted my ass on mile 28. I just jumped up like a little squirrel and ran off smiling.
Murakami says, “You are going to feel pain. But are you going to suffer?”
Lunch…Ah, decision, decisions…
Blake Butler wrote some kind of poem post I don’t really care for.
Christmas goes well. The weather is miserable and Seasonal Affective Disorder settles in like wet sand. My brain gallops along. I am buying most people inflatable toast.
Here is a Christmas poem by Jason Cook at Theives Jargon.
Here is a Kwanzaa interview by Ken Bauman at Art Noveau, if you were all wondering about Kwanzaa.
If you are one of those bland people who insist on just saying, “Happy Holidays” so as not to possibly offend, here is a novel excerpt for you by Steve Armour at Pif.
Here is a complaint letter I wrote Charms Candy Company when my Blow Pop was Fractured:
I am writing concerning your Super Blow Pop Bubble Gum Filled Pop, specifically grape flavor.
I have been eating Blow Pops—standard size—for years. I ate one during my first advanced swimming lesson (YMCA, 1979, a modified Finnish backstroke), as I competed in my first school chess tournament, while taking the ACT exam, during my first real date (this was in college—I started late due to my enormous unsymmetrical ears), and also a green sour apple blow pop as I was encouraging a young lady to accept a large diamond. All of these endeavors bore fruit: I did not drown, I got 2nd in the chess tournament, I scored 31 on the ACT and was accepted to the institute of higher learning of my choice (Alcorn State), and I eventually married my first date. (She has a uni-brow and a problem with caffeine, so maybe does not mind my ears!)
In any case…what I am saying is I have always had Blow-Pops. And have I had to defend them! I once had a chemistry professor who disallowed them during exams. I dropped the class, told him off, and wrote an informative letter to the editor of the school newspaper. I’ve had several people mention Blow Pops are inappropriate for church service. Funny, you can drink wine and eat stale crackers, but you cannot suck a simple lollipop? Where does it say that in the bible? Nowhere, that’s where. And I have friends who swear the candy cuts their tongues! Have you honestly ever had a case of someone lacerating his or her tongue on a Blow Pop? That’s an urban legend, in my opinion, like rubbing fabric softener on your body will keep off mosquitoes. (People believe this.)
My dad says never play poker with a tattooed lady, though that hardly seems relevant here.
Anyhow, my concern: The Super Blow Pop, which was a bit of an extravagance for me—I usually go with regular size. I unwrapped this sugary sphere of purplish joy and, to my horror, found it, well, destroyed beyond human repair. Imagine a tank rolling over an acorn. Think of the earth being hit by 10,000 earthquakes, the big Hollywood quakes, with cracks in the ground and cows tumbling in and people running around tearing their hair and stabbing each other with forks, etc. Imagine a bowling ball dropped from the moon onto a Wal-Mart parking lot. This is what my Blow Pop looked like!
Why? Tell me what happened. Help. I want to know. I need to know.
Sean Aden Lovelace