Allen Ginsberg Won a Race Today

Yes, despite being dead for 15 years, the Beat Poet Allen Ginsberg won a local 5K this weekend. Upon finishing he exclaimed, "I paid money for this?" and then ran off into the woods.

One can only hope he finds the answers he has been searching for.

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I think it would be a wonderful running tradition if all runners entered themselves as deceased poets. That would bring a lot of class to the sport.

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I think we should re-parse the phrase "do not want" into one word: donotwant! and it should be pronounced (doh-nah-twant) with the stress on the final syllable. DONOTWANT!

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My current laptop wallpaper is a French ad for Uncle Ben's microwavable basmati rice. To date, that makes the second predominately orange wallpaper I've had advertising a product in French. They just make classy ads, man.

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What would it feel like to evaporate? Like, to slowly turn into vapor and become a cloud. That could be a good story.

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I had an Evil Penguin-Man moment today. Where I scared myself with my thoughts. My friend and I were crossing a busy road and I was running and she was biking. And so I cross the road and I look over at her and she's on the side of the road but the cars were just close enough that my brain had time to imagine her falling off the bike and getting hit. And I almost went a little crazy just thinking about it. It was so real and I knew my brain would be like if you dropped a hiking boot filled with molten lead onto a chipmunk. It would not even have the possibility of holding up. Wouldn't even be close. SPLAT!  Gone.

So I was freaking out and I couldn't stop replaying the scene in my head. But I didn't want to say anything because that could be perceived as weird. If I was talking to someone and then said, out of no where, "Hey if you died in front of me I'd probably go crap-my-pants crazy. Whaddya think of that?"  I felt the need to say something though, so what I said, out loud, instead, was "Cars are scary."

And she said, "Cars?"

And I said, "Yep."

And that's it. Then silence. So that was about equally awful as the Penguin Man but at least more grounded in reality. And I spared myself an awkward conversation. Good job...brain?

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Life is fragile like single ply toilet paper. You still gotta get up every day and wipe. You still gotta play the game and act like you're safe. But every once in a while you try grabbing toilet paper with wet hands or something and it rips and tears into little TP-shreds and you're like, "MAN THIS STUFF IS REALLY FREAKIN' THIN!"

And then you think: What am I doing with this stuff? Where am I putting it?

But that's the fun. That's the challenge. You just have to prepare and make sure there's still enough left on the roll before you sit down....not really sure where that metaphor wound up...

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boo-yah cathedral.