Sunday, January 21, 2007
*****ECSTASIS*****
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Five years of my faith, my suspension of disbelief regarding the idiocy of professional football functioning as a nurturing metaphor for my suspension of disbelief regarding the idiocy of my existence, five years of friendships forged in savage derision of the church league team from Wisconsin, bear enraptured witness to the singleminded seizing of momentum toward the indelibility of championship.
What could be better?
Why, only the arrival of proper running weather in my beloved desert burg. I stepped out the door to pick up a burrito and greeted the element which both hides and reveals with an immediacy unmatched for gratification. I cherish the unlikely, and right now, it is the snow-coated cars parked outside the Carousel apartments and the lighted eyes of the snake bridge being made to sneak through a white flurry. Also, my running--the cultuvation of uninhibited excellence through the inhibition of habit--once blossomed under and over the hazy slate of snowflakes before crumbling into a cold clear day of dodgy hamstrings and manic psychology. After being broken in part by the swarming consciousness facilitated by it being so goddamned temperate here, this can only be a good thing.
The only way to close this is by acknowledging that it will probably melt by morning, never to be seen again in '07. And that I'm a sentimental mess. And that I don't know how to upload images to Blogger.
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* * * *** **** * * ***
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*** ***** * * * * ****
Five years of my faith, my suspension of disbelief regarding the idiocy of professional football functioning as a nurturing metaphor for my suspension of disbelief regarding the idiocy of my existence, five years of friendships forged in savage derision of the church league team from Wisconsin, bear enraptured witness to the singleminded seizing of momentum toward the indelibility of championship.
What could be better?
Why, only the arrival of proper running weather in my beloved desert burg. I stepped out the door to pick up a burrito and greeted the element which both hides and reveals with an immediacy unmatched for gratification. I cherish the unlikely, and right now, it is the snow-coated cars parked outside the Carousel apartments and the lighted eyes of the snake bridge being made to sneak through a white flurry. Also, my running--the cultuvation of uninhibited excellence through the inhibition of habit--once blossomed under and over the hazy slate of snowflakes before crumbling into a cold clear day of dodgy hamstrings and manic psychology. After being broken in part by the swarming consciousness facilitated by it being so goddamned temperate here, this can only be a good thing.
The only way to close this is by acknowledging that it will probably melt by morning, never to be seen again in '07. And that I'm a sentimental mess. And that I don't know how to upload images to Blogger.
