Monday, June 21, 2010

a bountiful summer solstice.


the pure massive reckless speed of the brainstorm. . . . visual verbal, mingus-madtype jangle of language. . . . paint-stirred prose, jutting into image.
the runners body was haunted, was strangely false, like an unfinished rodin sculpture, displaced and sagged. . . . everywhere the runners walk, wearing their short shorts and their sports tops and sometimes rank with sweat and effort and other times cool & dry as a wine cellar. . . .


6.17.10

5 miles at the coast. hot. eleven miles for the week as knee heals, and kyote and I watch the world cup. . . . love the world news pouring from the pouty mouth of a senorita, lubricious hips swaying to a marching mariachi band behind, as the over-caffeinated dude in the suit spurts laughter bursts and apparent witticisms into the monologue. I understand about 20 percent of the newscast, but enjoy 100 percent of it.


a steep & slippery downslope my fitness suffered during the three weeks of nonrunning, and the two weeks of drastically reduced running prior to that. in total I lost over one month of running, acclimating to the southern coastal heat, and maintaining the level of endurance I was achieving. . . . . I struggle with three miles, my knee still funky but mostly just getting the rhythm of body back into the act of running. to choreograph the whole physical action into a smooth run demands breath, strength, mental fortitude, determination, all elements currently slumping. . . . while building that wholeness of form, I look to painting and others runners for inspiration.

6.19 three miles and the end of the run-week. 18 miles for the week.

6.20.10



kyote and I continue to watch the world cup on the Univision/ Mexican channel. . . . a fantastic, charged group host the events, and while I understand 30% of what they discuss, I thoroughly enjoy their fervor. kyote has learned to sing-say with me that rare but manic note: “gooooooooool!”

4 miles today in hot noon sun. bearing down on the chest and head, the sun just starts breaking me so much quicker. the thermometer was at 88 when I returned, and the heat index was likely higher. spring ends at midnight tonight and summer is already melting my soles. . . .

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