Situation Normal. Atmosphere Breathable. Brainstem Injected. Dialogue Engaged.
Thursday, March 10, 2005

Light And Glare

Sunday was a tease. I walked outside into bright sunshine, gentle breezes, and children's laughter. A neighbor was playing catch with his son. I flinched and pinched. I was indeed awake. This was no dream or bizarre trick of perception. I took advantage of the March miracle sixty six degree weather and drove over to the filthy taco shack on Harlem. I ordered chiles rellenos and horchata and rolled my windows down. I listened to the Cubs game on the radio. The Giants slaughtered them 10-1.

I realize it's trite and obvious to say so, but I can't wait for summertime. My favorite exercise is walking. Preferably when the temperature is ninety plus degrees and the humidity is thick and stifling. Sometimes I pop a few pills, but usually I go clean. The conditions cause me to perspirate gallons. My sock threads mesh into my footskin, eventually causing blistering, bleeding, and peeling. My shirt becomes drenched and shows tree rings of sweat when it dries. I feel my pulse beating in my scalp, a wake on a river of capillaries. It is all glorious to me. The aching feet and and rubbery limbs complement a cold beer very well when I've finished five or ten miles.

This summer I might try jogging. As a smoker I didn't dare. Now that my lungs are closer to regular capacity, I may give it a shot. I'm terrified that my knee cartilege will buckle and snap off my bones. I'll slingshot to the pavement and my legs will flap about like fish tails while I whimper and panic. My lungs will revolt and exhale so hard they turn inside-out and rocket out through my mouth like starved tapeworms that smelled a possum carcass on the roadside. My eyeballs will pop like gnashed grapes. But it might be fun.

I also love the scenery. I see lots of oblivious drivers picking their noses. I hear lots of bad music, identifiable only by a farting bass line as the vehicle speeds past. Certain plants like lilacs and rose bushes have very short blooming cycles and I have the privilege of witnessing these with my eyes and nose. I eat mulberries right off the tree if there's no visible insects or birdshit on them. I watch ant armies carry ice cream wrappers to their holes, where they pore over the surface until the formerly sticky paper is dry as an autumn leaf.

Soon enough I'll return to all that. I used to like winter and hate summer until I began my ritual physical torture program, but now that I rely upon it for masochism and a sense of accomplishment, winter seems awfully patsy.
12:05 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm


March 10, 2005 9:37 PM, Blogger Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm said...

Testing this motherfucker.

March 11, 2005 11:40 PM, Blogger daniel said...

love the new layout mate.

Gave me a technodork tyrannosaurus.

Looks shit hot.


Post a Comment

left-arrow Home

Muck Gripe
Hellbent and Furious
Shoelace Noose Considerations
Homeward Bound
Mouthbreathing Foreign Drug Fiends
Concrete Mattress
Piwo Jasne Pelne Okocimskie
Grimace's Appropriate Name
Gnats, Rashes, and Malaria
Neon Safari
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
August 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
February 2008
May 2008
August 2008
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
December 2009
February 2010
March 2010
April 2010
May 2010
August 2010
August 2011
September 2011
February 2012
June 2012
July 2012
August 2012
October 2012
November 2012
May 2013
August 2013
September 2013
December 2013
May 2014
October 2014
November 2014
December 2016