"Theres more said, then in the lines in your forehead
Then could ever try to find print on the inside of that warhead"
and here i am.
*cue the holy roller mock voice*
AND OH JEEBUS HE PERFORMED A MIRACLE!
no. not really. he just did some doctor stuff, treated it, and made it better. he even ok'd me to race if i felt good. and this morning i felt good.
so i gave it a go.
not only did i run 13.1 miles in a personal best time of 1:37:33, but i also discovered a new, fool proof racing strategy for success: keep the cute runner girl who runs 7 minute miles in your sight. at all times.
and by the power of leeeeeeeeeerooooooooooy JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENkins i imagine the fucker's right.
but not this time! this is new!
i think i posted a vid of this creepy muthafuckin' kid before... he just keeps gettin' creepier.
he would give them sunlight. and food. and bonerjamz.
and in return they would dress up like teepees with deer imprints on them (for the second to last wednesday of every month) and raise their stalks to the sky singing "habba labba habba rabba hiney ho"...
what? you don't believe me?
(image via skull swap)
i get to see some of my favorite people in the whole world tomorrow!
my ass won't heal quite as fast as i'd like it to. in fact, it might not even be my ass, but a disc/nerve problem in my lower back. my entire right leg/foot has been numb with pins and needles for the last 48 hours.
despite the broken heart, i can still charm the pants off beautiful women!
happy thanksgiving y'all!
i begin every run by saying thanks. not to jesus, not to alah, not to any make-believe sky daddy. i say it to myself. to remind me of the perils i could endure in another body, another world. i proclaim to no one in particular the graciousness i have. that -- at the very least -- i have the ability to RUN.
and nothing brings that passion to light more than dealing with a fucking injury. i mentioned previously my "butt pain" and how it wouldn't keep me out of this coming saturday's half marathon. well, it's not getting any better. and from what i've read it could take 2-4 weeks to heal completely. and i don't have that kind of time.
i also don't have the luxury of being stupid. if i run on it, i could make it worse and endanger much more than just my chances of finishing one, measly race. so, in having to take my own advice and find the fucking bright side to every possible negative, here's what i got:
i can still walk.
if i can't run, i'll volunteer at an aid station and cheer on others.
i still look sexy in my winter tights.
take that murphy you fucking dirty whore troublemaker you!
now this is what i call a weapon of mass fucking destruction! they can kill people, they can kill boners, they can kill free thought, they can kill sanity...
and much fucking more!
i'm human. so sometimes i do human things, like getting tunnel vision and thinking the entire world revolves around me.
i know that's not ideal, that the world has other things to worry about than my wants and my so-called needs; so i'm actively trying to curb that shit. but that doesn't mean i can skirt my frustration at will.
my running regimen has stayed tough and steady for the last year or so, and as i prepare to run another half marathon this saturday, disaster struck! in my fucking ass!
blame it on the cold weather, fibers not twitching fast enough, or just fucking murphy's law, but i ended up with a nasty strain in my right glute the other day and so far, the pain has not gone away. in fact, that one little muscular nuisance took me from running 7:15 miles easy to running 10 minute miles like an old man.
so. finally... after trying to run on it anyway (smart move? not likely), with no luck, here i sit.
and it's fucking driving me insane!!!
patience. i believe patience is an integral part of mental toughness. it's the part that is often overlooked, mostly because when it comes to certain subjects -- the ones i hold closest to me -- i just don't have any.
but all in all, i see myself as a patient person. so i'm gonna try to borrow that virtue from other areas of my life, apply it to my sore ass, then hope i can run like a muthafuckin' fiend on saturday.
if not, i'm still hobbling over that finish line, on my own two feet or not.
i'm finishing that fucking race.
most of the women in my life are into vampires. whether it's twilight or dark shadows or true blood, the ladies be lovin' them bloodsuckers.
are they sexy? are they... attractive? are they... what the fuck are they?
a couple months ago i sat down and watched the season finale of true blood. granted, it was the first (and only) episode i'd ever seen, so i was quite clueless about the plot; but regardless, i can assure you: it didn't appeal to me. at all.
then the other night i met a girl who was so into true blood that she assured me i would enjoy it, if only i started from the beginning.
i assured her i wouldn't.
she assured me i would.
i assured her i wouldn't.
and so on, and so on, etc. yadda yadda yadda.
i dunno. in the end, i think vampires are... well, kinda gay.
i don't mean that as a knock on homosexuals. not at all. i mean it like the kidz mean it. lame.
but for some reason "lame" just doesn't sound right, so i'm gonna stick with:
vampires = gay.
and martial artists.
okay, now i'm just stereotyping.
but seriously, i'd put any fucking nutso chinese or korean or japanese christian up against the most hardcore evangelical rapture lovin' delusionoid...
while living in beijing, i was once trapped in a public park and swarmed by a group of undercover self-mutilating christ-fiends whose only harness against shouting their imaginations in full voices to the skies was the fact that "a highly militarized faction of government spies" was constantly watching their every move.
i took on a thick afghan accent and told them (with wily eyes) that i was a muslim.
naturally, they left me alone.
'cuz ain't nothin' crazier than a wily eyed muslim dude on the cusp of bedding 72 virgins.
religious folks (who more often than not are also an integral part in the beyond-reason-ultra-conservative-ignorant-fucktard movement) are experts in one thing that should never be overlooked:
these fuckers are experts. i mean, consider the fact that they've been spreading idiocy all over the planet for thousands of years with absolutely no proof backing up their outlandish claims of supernatural sky daddies, talking snakes and parting seas. and they're still doing it. successfully!!!
don't believe us and we'll stone you to death. or fuck your children. or rape your wife. or see that you burn in hell, for eternity, with nancy grace reruns playing in the background.
IGNORANCE IS THE MIGHTIEST DETERRENT OF PROGRESSION!
pass it on.
(thanks to AT for the pic)
looked pretty fucking cool though.
you know noah. he built a boat and put one pair of every fucking living thing on the face of the planet (uh... yeah, right) on this boat. crammed at least two of every fucking living creature on the ENTIRE GLOBE in this dinky boat.
and that's not even the craziest shit.
because noah also sired three kids. when he was 500 years old (gen 5:32). three kids. in one year. his wife? for all we know he had just one... but she's never named in the bible.
AND WHY THE FUCK WOULD SHE BE? SHE'S A FUCKING WOMAN? THEY ONLY GAINED THE RIGHT TO FUCKING VOTE IN THIS COUNTRY 90 FUCKING YEARS AGO (even though woodrow wilson* vehemently opposed it)!!!!!!!!!!
the bible is a fucking shitpile of rubbish. every time i see one my faith in the human mind's ability to progress takes a hit. how many more hits must it take?
*tangent: i once dated a girl who had a huge crush on woodrow wilson. yeah. woodrow wilson. when i went to the smithsonian, she made me take pictures of all the woodrow wilson shit. woodrow fucking wilson made her horny. gee, i wonder why that relationship didn't work out...
right? wouldn't life be so much better without sadness? i don't like being sad. no one likes being sad.
so... how do we fucking beat that shit?
i've gone through points in my life where i could definitely cover it up. where i could mask it with toughness. with substance. with fists and fury where i could grit it out.
but sometimes ya just gotta let it in, so it can get the fuck out.
i think buddhism is just as nuts as the rest of the religions, but i do believe one of the buddha's mantras to be very helpful: life is suffering. without suffering, we can not know what is good.
shit happens. it's gonna hurt. feel it and move the fuck on.
and give me your money.
if you want ;-)
(image via smbc)
i have tried. very, very, very hard.
and i have done well.
but fucking christ, this video features the most RETARDED motherfucking people on the entire motherfucking planet!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHO THE FUCK WANTS TO MARRY HIS MOTHER, YOU DUMB MOTHERFUCKING RETARDED FUCKHEAD FUCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!
jesus FUCKING christ.
and also, how could god possibly hurt those he loves by punishing them to eternal damnation? huh? answer that, you pompous warriors of insanity!
open your fucking eyes and know you're delusional!
(this would be my pulpit speech if ever given the chance. i imagine it would be a very short speech. right before the entire congregation murders me)
but isn't. at the same time.
i started doing it as a kid. all the time. it was like... playing. make-believe. i'd cue up my favorite song on my favorite tape, throw it in the walkman, scoot out the door and... walk. jam. sway. ride. with the song... a theme song...my theme song.
still, to this day i'll do it. i usually don't talk about it, but i don't really give a fuck right now. sometimes i play hans zimmer's dark knight swoon and walk around the loop, acting like a fucking badass.
sometimes i'll go with rage... fire up some pantera... run around like an animal.
but my favorite is crockett's theme. the fucking fpu remix. yes.
i don't know what it is about this song, but i can move to it in any place, in any mood, at any time.
move the fuck over, sonny!
(play the below video while you read this, maybe it'll help)
well, it starts... with a beat. a nice, steady, uptempo beat. it's a beat you can feel in your body. primordial in fact. we all have it. it's the beat we walk to when we're havin' a good day, feelin' on top of the world.
that's the muthafuckin' beat.
and then you have melody. a sweet, breath and air melody... that floats... it floats atop the beat. and we're feelin' good. and the melody waves and waves and it makes you smile. maybe it's a synth... maybe it's an acoustic guitar. a woman's voice. or maybe all three! or neither! or something else! but no matter what it is you hear it and you're uptempo, and your havin' a good day body can't help but smile to it. and move to it.
and that's the muthafuckin' melody.
it's all that's necessary. the breaks, the builds, the climax... all natural. organic to the beat and the melody. your body knows and the dj knows and it's a big communal revelation.
it's fucking bad ass.
it's the soundtrack to my life, too. seems to teeter back and forth between those dark, sometimes depressive minor keys... back and forth, forever it seems. and then, FINALLY, it...
i think that's pretty fucking cool.
"Take the blasphemer outside the camp, and tell all those who heard the curse to lay their hands on his head. Then let the entire community stone him to death."
sounds good, god.
jesus fucking christ. kill a guy? with fucking stones? 'cuz he reacted naturally by saying a word most people say all the time???
and people wonder why i have the 'audacity' to call religious folks bat shit fucking crazy.
the guitar rhythms on this song that thunder throughout do a good job of relating the idea of 'threshold', going to the limit and staying there... holding it... enjoying it.
for me, this is a challenge... something i am determined to get really good at.
as a long distance runner, i'm particularly interested in how much physical pain i can endure in one session, or a period of sessions.
and as i find success in going harder, longer, stronger, i'm becoming a bit obsessed with testing the limits of my own body.
breaking through pain, chasing that high. yes... that's the driving force... the high, but through it i learn a whole lot about myself that i didn't know previously.
i'm fucking addicted to it.
and the longer i can hold it -- pushing, driving, embracing the threshold -- the more high i get.
and those fucking ultras are winking at me from the corner of the room, hiking up their skirts.
so when i cook and i taste the dish and it tastes sorta bland (which, is often the case) i just douse that shit with sriracha hot sauce and he doesn't even blink before scarfing it down. he eats like an animal when he smells that stuff.
then again, half the time he doesn't remember eating anything anyway... so... uh...
but i didn't bring it up. i promise.
10-15 minutes into it and the conversation is rolling along... and somehow i mention that crazy fucking story of Lot that i like to tell. you know, the one in the fucking bible. yeah. that one.
to my surprise. no one had heard that story.
ever the performer, i told that story... and i told that fucking story... and i TOLD THAT MUTHAFUCKIN' STORY BITCHES! i built it and built it and BAM had the entire crowd!
high five. it was like old times.
and they all became non-believers after that.
just fucking run.
the feeling i get from that is reminiscent of being a kid, when i didn't have a care in the world other than right now, present... time and space. takes me back to my primal roots. and it fucking feels fantastic.
but i never even considered doing that regularly. i thought once a week was enough... just to keep me grounded. any more than that and i just assumed i'd burn out.
then a couple of weeks ago i dropped (and broke) my zune. i had to send it off to get fixed, which left me mp3-less for a week and i... got scared.
sure i'd gone once a week without tunes, but every day? what if i got bored? what if i lost that feeling?
i never got bored. i never lost that feeling. in fact, i woke up! tuned in! felt and experienced the world around me! as it was happening!
- - -
yesterday i ran a race with 30,000 other people. THIRTY THOUSAND PEOPLE. it was an awesome sight, all of us packed together, a natural experience vaguely akin to pack running on the hunt... except about half the people had earbuds jammed in their heads.
and they totally missed out on the raw ecstasy of communitas, rambling through the city streets, doing what it is we've been doing for hundreds of thousands of years...
just fucking running.
i mean, that's a pretty broad statement... but it's essentially true.
people have lost touch with their bodies, with their surroundings, with the idea of a collective good for the species.
this ain't no "i'm smarter and better than you" moment, but i understand how people might see it that way.
fuck them. i don't care.
'cuz if people just tuned into what's actually going on around them, life (for all) could be much simpler, much happier, much better. from blabbin' jesus to cuttin' me off in traffic to spittin' into the wind (i'm behind you, thanks, motherfucker) and knocking me over with your oversized fucking backpack...
...all one needs to do is OPEN his eyes.
OPEN her ears.
TAKE a fucking look around and move in space as that space allows.
oh... and smile. every once in a while... just fucking smile.
but just once.
"well, she really just prayed about it."
"uh... okay. but what did she do? diet? exercise? surgery? what?"
"she didn't do any of that. she just prayed about it."
"she just... prayed about it. prayed about it?"
"yeah. god's work is amazing."
(uh-MAY-zing. this fucking bitch. what, is she fucking nuts?)
"you mean to tell me she just prayed about it and she lost the weight? like magic? 200 pounds gone?"
"you're a liar."
"no. why would i lie about god's work?"
"you're a fucking liar. a delusional fucking cracked out liar." (i'm chuckling in disbelief as i say this)
"did you see the wire?" she quickly changed the subject.
they are real. they are crazy. they are fucking everywhere.
and they will destroy this planet some day.
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!
if i had one bit of advice i could give a young, impressionable teen boy it'd be this: don't date christians.
but if i could add in my other two cents i'd also say:
never turn down the chance to fuck (because you never know when it might be your last) ...
really, i'm serious. don't date christians.
- people are more apt to talk to you
- when you walk around you feel a sort of power over everyone else, that you can do things or get things easier than someone who isn't a wearing that silly collar
- everyone assumes you have some strange sexual fetish
- no one questions the insanity for which you stand
but so many timing i not rike was happen. so den i tearing myserf is okay no probrem.
and den is rike i cannot having trub-oh stay talking you in engrish so is okay but no one can knowing diss one.
i can tearing dem is forever twenty one.