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April 21st, 2006

wonder how we got "yard" from "yard"

Didn't grill Lawrence last night. Worked in yard. So many hours of so many days already this year, yet so much not even begun (particularly back) there. I feel as if I've got the jump on it this time, though. Or a jump.

I have been observing, though, and saying to some of you, that my muscles (for some reason I want to pronounce that "musk-ullz") are doing rather quite very well with it all. Fancy that. "Musculature"? I like to refer to it/them that way too. The variations are probably to undercut sincerity so's to be sure not to be making any association with, or any appearance of valuing, any of the despicable aspects of the cult(ure) of athleticism. Which is crap, of course, cuz muscles don't have anything to do with that stuff, per se, and I know it.

I guess I know it but don't trust that anyone and everyone who might be reading these words does... ha!

Yes, I am coming out as having muscles. Not great show-off I'm-better'n-you muscles. Not other versions of muscles, as well, I'm sure. But muscles. Muscles with which I have a newly more pleasantly interactive relationship. Stronger muscles; moreover, muscles that are more fun. And muscles that, lo & behold, do much better with yardwork---while I'm at it, and in recovery thereafter, t'boot.

In other news, squirrelykat has kidney stones again, as I'm sure she wouldn't mind me mentioning here. Poor thing. Let us all cross our fingers for their quick passing, and with as little pain as possible.

thrown for a loop

fuhhh! i guess i would have guessed i'd feel some weird shit, but, fuuhh!, it still seems bizarre, uncalled-for, and weirdly physiological.

of course there is a strange air pressure out there, as the cold front nears, and isolated thunderstorms get ready to (like this thing) break out, appear, or whatever else you think of little upcropping roilers doing. but that ain't the main prompter of this weighty warmth of flesh, awareness of the face, swirly inner ear, etc.

can't shake the notion i'm an utter moron for all of this.

so now there's the question of what to do now, this evening. fake going on about my business, or whatever alternate business i'd be doing, since it's spooky storm dark out? how about go exhaust myself physically? drink, drug, unconsciousness, lite movie? charge nonnecessities? i can imagine no option that isn't an evasion.


the obvious answer is to stand in the metaphorical storm and get soaked with it until it's boring. wonder if standing in a literal storm is a good way to do that.


Postcard of the Day

(a feature involving a postcard on a day)

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For another postcard thing, see
my old postcard poems tumblr or
its handy archive.

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Many posts are friends-only; livejournal "friend" me and tell me who you are if you wanna read.


"What was once thought cannot be unthought."

-- Möbius, The Physicists


"The moment of change is the only poem."

-- Adrienne R.


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