i feel better, the running suppressed my hunger.
couple more blocks until i hit the main road. the sky looked clear with patches of fog coming in. the same was true earlier in the city. i felt myself catching for breath, but i kept on. on and on until my calves hurt like a mother. used the same breathing routine i’ve been doing for almost a decade. toe-heel and i felt the strain in my left knee. not now. i still half a mile to go. i looked up and saw the serenity of the moon shining down the dark side of the hills. these streets were somewhat desolated during this time of the evening. i only saw cars passing through, quite oblivious to my john howard griffin stealth. i ran past the dark sidewalks, noticing the huge houses that looked like haunted houses. shrub covered some of the walls seen from my peripheral vision. almost stumbled into that protuberance on one part of sidewalk. kept going. i smelled the raw darkness of nature in the evening, an amazon richness that did not amuse my plausibility to stumble by any moment. my legs were about to give up as i crossed parker. a couple blocks up and i remembered that house party last summer when i threw up four times. already buzzing from the workplace, more alkie consumed by the time i got to the southside area. i’m running right now, and i didn’t even want to think about diluting my senses with surrealistic satisfaction. taking two days off from working out did make sense… reached the apartment, timed over half an hour covering 3 miles tonight. i needed to run more. i could see my abs forming again as i knew the program was apparently working.
i stared at the take-it-easy flyer for this friday. listening to classic reggae and dancehall shouldn’t be bad, but i didn’t feel like going to that alameda place. alameda. place where the first known virus was discovered until yale claimed their rights. scarface.
my inner feelings show no mercy on my enemy. i got to get this motherfucker fore he gets me. so in your own blood you’ll bathe. and i won’t stop until i put this mutherfucker in his fuckin’ grave.
i’m too old to think about such ornery. taoist is better. black eyed peas.
we take the pleasure from small things, not from a lex nor diamond rings. i just want a crib and a studio set, build my enterprise connection projects.
somehow i wanted to be off somewhere where i could survive by myself. no other people. somewhere where i could develop something that i thought i could achieve, sarcastic to a cynic’s ideas. to free my mind up, let lose of everything, and experience something that i’ve longed for in this life. i’ve been there. nothing but prolific wonders nobody could ever imagine. the consequence is real, but it’s worth the risk. calming. soothing. the waterfall pounding my head and back while i close my eyes to seek something out of familiarity. a surge of energy flowed out from above, engulfing my senses to the brighter understanding. it all begins from there.
la fontaine’s les deux amis.
lasciviousness, i dare not myself. it is not plenary any longer. my being inheres to this void that gives me the right answers. the pretense that i see does not involve personal matters. but something precludes the next 30 miles down the road. i am yet to see this, and one way or another i’ll take it.