more worky outie

listening to kris delmhorst, covering peter mulvey's 'ithaca' (i've always worked out better... or should i say that i've had better workouts, while listening to slow, intense music, rather than loud, pulsing music... maybe that says something about me?):

we leave this cursed city
the same way we come in,
we trace the roads
on our way out, we shed
our uncertainties like clothes...

then i spend time cruising the news in between sets of reps (again, one of those odd quirks... i love reading in between sets... think a little less about the aches and pains, i guess). i find headlines like 'j.lo craves an oscar' a few inches from 'nation honors rosa parks' and a few more inches to 'Claim of responsibility for deadly India blasts.'

love will never listen to us,
why should it?

love knows the score,
builds better songs than we do,
sings a better metaphor....

typing

while wearing weight gloves... not so easy.

why do i always seem to get the urge to write while sweating? what's up with that? could it be that two healthy things go together? body sweat and mental sweat consipiring together to make good things happen?

naaaaah.

however, i've begun doing some hardcore research on this book-type thing that i've kinda overcommitted myself to writing.

something interesting that came to mind during the research. anybody else notice the similarity between the current war in iraq and the holy crusades of long gone? not overt similarities with people chanting in the streets about killing the infidels (though, would that surprise anyone?), but the idea that the ends justify the means? just a historical comparison... not sure if anybody else sees it, but then again, i've been buried in history books lately.

speaking of which, this is odd: my huge amazon.com order shipped in bits and pieces, which is wont to happen... but my copy of the king james bible and the liber chaotica shipped together. is this about balance, or something stranger going on? only time will tell.

also on the subject of history, but more of an emotional history sidebar: been working over a new piece in my mind, and it's been occurring to me more and more how much of our history we drag around with ourselves on a daily basis... like the fact that i don't like to have my back touched... it's a defense mechanism, or subconscious something or other, but i tend to jump just about anytime somebody puts hands along my back... even close, intimate friends or lovers... it's just another bit of flotsam and jetsam of my emotional history poking it's head out of the closet and saying "boo."

more later, after i've had time to digest it a bit.

ayyyyyyy!!!!

okay, so beginning this whole exercise thing again.

aside from the physical torture being self-imposed, i've been doing most of it facing a mirror, and trying to catch a glimpse of the person that i think still lives there. it's surprising how physical exertion almost always forces me into introspection.

and is it any wonder i gave it up?