tiger balm, RICE, restlessness and anxiety. . . .

may 26th. a second anniversary in a private hut-table at indochine restaurant. superb. a dusked drizzle tapped a tranquil rhythm throughout our meal. the appetizer was a steaming crock of mussels, served with a delicious coconut milk curry, a wonderfully deep flavor alternating with sweet & spicy notes. from there we had a dragon tail of shrimp and orange wasabi. the entrees—i had aubergines and tofu curry, kas had the “happy asian melody.” concluding the meal was an apt plate of fried bananas and vanilla ice cream with whipped cream on top.

y’day was my trip to the orthopedic.  the lobby was a busy bustle of wheelchairs, neck braces, shoulder apparatuses, hip cuffs, casts and crutches. . . . the percussive shake of pill bottles and nurse shuffles. once seen, I was my usual flustered self as the doctor asked me to explain what was going on. after rambling while facing my three x-rays showing a perfectly good knee (the patella “may have a slight tilt” he says), then getting a few motion tests and pokes and prods on my left knee, the benevolent doctor announces the verdict. I have patellafemoral pain, aka runner’s knee. neither surgery nor shot will relieve it. there is no serious damage, no torn meniscus, just enflamed tendon and ligament and possible muscle scooped up by ridged bone with every step. burning my knee out with overuse he said. hhmmph. alternating ice and heat, tiger balm rub and alleve or Tylenol should do the trick.

so a mixed bag of news—but since surgery was not an option on any level, an overall positive prognosis. . . . moving on.

may 28  blank canvases.

running long distances is a meditation. the psyche's narrative throughout a run parallels the various emotive stages of life. the endurance necessary to heal various life-struggles and damages is represented on a macrocosmic level in a run-- a sort of physicaly poem or metaphor. . . . . to remind myself of my strength and courage, to reawaken my elan vital, i continue to run. i run to reclaim my Self. the moment i worry about what another person thinks of my running, i desecrate the beauty of the act. i lose the act as a meditation, as an expansion, as a pure thing.  i clone consumer concerns of name-tag emblems and icons, i clone my body to magazine covers, i abstract the act of the run into a flailing eruption, an unnatural grotesque.

the canvases sit untouched but for charcoal spills, lazy lines, and the marks of their journey through false starts and abandoned/ recycled imagery. . . . they evolve like ruins in a garden.

june 1. coffee on the porch as rain drenches the freshly mowed lawn. tomato leaves blink against the falling rain.

memorial day weekend passed with full home of in-laws and then friends from Fairfax, VA. a social weekend full with straight shifts running late, getting home at 1 am two nights in a row. Carolina beach one morning and Wrightsville beach the next. swimming and playing in sun and sand. my knee is now ten days out of running and into healing.

canvases on back deck as images emerge, lotuses from the mire of mind. . . .

Updates and low days.

may 23rd 2010.

appointment tomorrow at atlantic orthopedics for my knee. not even a swift sprint seems possible now. . . . . stressful on too many levels to consider.

meanwhile my tomato plants are doing well—with mr. stripey actually showing his first fruits!

may 24th-- kas and my two year annivesary.   her gift is pictured below.

my new workspace!!  (ky's pool in background)

mahler, oil sticks, oil of night, strange divulgements. . . .

may 10.

a coupl’a mahler symphonies and a history of war & fucking. . . . a running (internal) dialogue.

a nighttime run, the first night run in at least one year, and a truly surreal experience.  the first kicks were normal and stretching and then the weirdness fell around me.  the grass became an asphalt mosaic, with no topography visible, just feet responding to what was there on the kick. then a blazing-eyed albino cat, the white cat that would stalk my run for perhaps a quarter mile as bats overhead dangle from a hyper puppeteer's wires in the azure fade-out of evening. . . . the porch visits of neighbors, dark and vague but for crystal voices and occasional distorted laughter. . . . then the long quiet of the night’s arrival, hardly a bird, trees stalk stars still as a cat. . . . pastels fold in on themselves and the stars emerge (in my periphery a tree quickly lunges). . . . night collapses and form dissolves into cloud-mind. . . . symphony.  the same effect as long daytime runs, but in much shorter work. hallucinatory and introspectful, an accompanying sensory deprivation yogis & ascetics endure as happenings approaching enlightment, Awareness. but I just kept running and breathing, the nights delirium containing me like a wolf-womb. stretching in front of the house, the night folds up its immense strange theater set and all is restored to normalcy. 
now pbs—“an American life: into the deep.” a show of American whaling and specifically the Essex’s disastrous and horror-stricken voyage.

night pours across the land like oil in the gulf.

time for pastel drawings, oil sticks. franz kline and joan mitchell, motherwell in mind. the french painter—soulages? the Italian poor artists, arte povera. . . hemingway is in mind much lately. . . . should revisit his short stories.
may 11. 11h01am. seven miles at the beach, summer rest loop and around the loop and the causeway park area and back. . . . gray broke into sun and warmth. mozart’s requiem on the way home.

have tapped into a great local band, and (as usual) I am the last to know. no dollar shoes is a group of mad-talented local boys who tear up the traditional bluegrass instruments with a certain punk sneer in their drawl. check it out here or here.

may 12. mahler and miles. . . .

mahler’s seventh today, a ravenous recording from the berliner philharmonic and was up latelate with kyote and croup. . . . . a long day followed. . . . brahms and flogging molly and memford and sons.
may 13. eight miles and change from folk’s café (downtown) into fifth and fourth and catholic school laughter and restoration construction across many porches of the southern homes leaning over the sidewalks with oaks and magnolias and taxis and sherrifs and small convenience stores populating the road towards the railroad passing where greenfield lake becomes visible. . . . a good day for a run, as temps rise into mid 80’s quickly with the sun. an old box turtle creeped along the edge of the park, his shell partially algaed over, a Mandelbrot puzzle of age in each pentagram formation and the interlocking shapes. . . . . recursive imagery. gatorade and old crow medicine show on the drive home.

a slight envy of the artists who meet for coffee and kibbutz at folk’s café each thursday, inclusive and interested. they would recognize my paintings but they would not recognize me.  I was just a runner (in a sketchy neighborhood) looking for a banana at the café where they sat. anonymity as exclusion.

may 17th.

one cannot structure the emotional into form, rather one allows the emotionalism to possess the body and surge into work and Act. this is true in running as it is in painting.  the interesting parallel between running, painting. . . . . the crux of the thing.  act serving as nexus to higher self.
saw porpoises, two of them, swimming across the tide-break sunday morning with ky and kas. 

don't let the work take the joy out of the thing--

may 5 2010.

don’t let the work take the joy of a thing. that was the mantra running through pa in ribbons wrapping farms and silos, grazing cows, the quietude but for my footfalls (& footclimbs) on the hills of the area. . . . . the bucolic, external beauty became an internal beauty, became a mind-journey as the body churned Aware but unconsciously. huckleberry mountain loomed across the horizon, my feet pushing and pulling against the hills towards that massive gray jut darkening against the northern sky. and through that landscape passed my alternately searching and still mind-body, finding miles and future paintings on some subconscious continuum rarely revealed.

the runs were through a picturesque loop from Benton to Unityville with a one-room school house still standing on one corner by a cow pasture, a few hound dogs lazily watching me pass with heavy eyes, and few cars. the cars that did pass had smiles and waves, unlike anything that greets me at home. the end point was the Swisher Farm, a member of my extended (by marriage) family, and there was the massive dog Kobe, a black lab that looked like a dinosaur mixed with Rottweiler, but whose owner kept him near to the red oxide barn.

the limestone and granite of northern Virginia, the plush life of the blue ridge. we stopped by Fredericksburg and found a charming historic city, bustling with tobacco and pint-clinking bars, galleries and even a river-front park. we then passed the preparations of the Apple Blossom Festival and turned left towards Berryville, where we visited friends on their wild green mountain, farm patches rolling behind rusted iron gates and thickets thrusting luscious and berried and fecund. a wonderful stop.

the premier run was across steep loose-rubble roads where horses nodded and hoof-stomped at my curious arrival. I listened, a bit paranoid, to the woods swallowing me as their rich life ruffled and shook and vibrated cacophonic. an easy breath came at the 1500’ elevation, even climbing the 500’ that rolls nearly unnoticed across the pastorale.

may 6 2010. schubert’s cypresses for string quartet, rachmoninoff’s elegiac trios for piano and strings. marvelous. today brought a six mile run, summer rest looping through the coast and back around wb park and up summer rest, the closest thing to a rolling run one can find at this coast. knee felt okay until I got home and sat outside with my dog and watched the tomato plants grow in the sun; tensed up something awful during that fifteen minute rest. but the run was fast and Hot, good cleansing with a full pint of Gatorade and plenty of h20 afterwards to wash out muscles and toxins. lovely bodies running, already bronzed and beautiful. much of the run was internal, quiet, just breathing and body-awareness (mostly knee and breath) and an effort to rid the negatives of the system. six miles was a good distance, though I look forward to the meditation of the long runs again.

Rauschenberg’s transfer drawings reclaim my interest and provoke the will to work. feels so long ago that I was playing with transfers and really painting. . . . . working fluidly and with excitement in my work. work begets work. also enjoying the previous two issues of Modern Painters, especially the hockney interview. I contemplate the next step of restoring myself to creativity.

Collective ramble and you can probably skip this one. . . .

april 19th

lsd. that is the ongoing acronym. . . . long slow distance. maybe not long-- four miles, then one mile in trail shoes. a little barefoot running. trying to rebuild the knee injury. . .

no creative thoughts—new moon phase. . . . (sometimes the old thoughts creep in on me.)

earth day- april 22 2010. three miles plus one mile barefoot walk/jog. . . . . swift pace. thought much of sensuality of running, the sexuality of running. the raw physicality, the expressionist angst of movement, the thrusts of breath and body and beating the feet and the brutality of a pace at the top of one’s ability. . . . the madness of running. the meditation of the long slow distance. . . . . the psychosis?

running is a physical act and thus directly related to evolutionary wellness--- a. one improves the body’s attractiveness, making it a sexually desirable object. b. a healthy body indicates a healthy mate, hence an increased likelihood of successful breeding with that mate. also, physically healthy individuals can endure harsh circumstances longer, are more likely to survive in adverse conditions due to multi-layered preparedness to survive. c. a healthy body indicates an individual’s capacity to care for one’s Self, a sexy attribute. and a healthy body indicates a willingness to live and to live well. . .

ultimately, in simplified shorthand: healthy = sexy, at least on a subconscious level.
Darwin should have been a runner.

running enhances the sexual experience, builds the libido, and makes for a more complete & creative experience. . . . . so why don’t I just go get fucked? a whole ‘nother post.

april 23 2010. 12 miles for the week. 96 miles for the month. 412 for the year.

five miles running, ½ mile barefoot jogging afterwards. now flogging molly and thoughts of flaming amy’s.

mr. stripey is growing like a champ.  he will get earth-anchored this weekend, and probably find a partner or two downtown at the farmer's market tomorrow morning. 

otherwise, i find myself reading news on the local newspaper with deep intrigue and personal infatuation.  i read about the drug busts, specifically narcotics and more specifically heroin.  i mark my mental map and build a network of potential neighborhoods and places the cops are targetting.  it is ridiculous and romantic (meaning distorted) and just a passing phase, tired mind and exhausted image-repertoire hoping for inspiration in any form. . . . . the runs are lengthening again thankfully. 

Pennsylvania in one week! running amish fields and deer last year popping out on trail twenty feet in front of me (maybe running from a bear. . . ?) always a godly experience, being in the pa mountains.

Some pics from y'day's trail jog--

life drawing tonight.  discussions of liszt, de kooning, edgerton & faulkner, sinclair, and even some rachmoninoff last night at work.  served One person all night. . . . eight dollars the richer. 

april 13th

(my love for nature began in my childhood in the acres of woods behind my grandparent's home. today was a similar childhood playfulness and curiosity as i snuck in a coupl'a hours on some trails only ten minutes from my driveway. wonderful to have such options nearby. . . . )

jogging trails this morning as knee pain persists with stressful use. I headed to plantation grove nature preserve and put in some random twists and turns across pine needle paths and tree-identification signs and headed down trails of pine, oak, magnolias. . . passed a pond, open fields. . . . . sun is shining, the weather is sweet. . . . . makes ya’ wanna move your dancing feet. . . . . an enriching, organic experience.

one is the loneliest number. . . . . a few paintings, a few miles of language.

april 12th. the week was filled with my quarterly visit to the periodontist/dentist, a very sick ky, a sick kas, four long and busy shifts at the restaurant, nc azalea festival (just outside our front door at the restaurant!), and finally a 16 mile run sunday morning. last week's mileage total was conservative, 25 miles, doing a speedwork session & one 4 miler (as heat and pollen hang heavy on the head and lungs and legs) and taking it easy as kyote visited doctors and I spent time with the family. I did purchase two major things this weekend: a. Great Outdoor Provision Co. (thanks Tim!) cut me a deal I couldn’t resist on some Salomon xt wings 2, thus I have a new pair of brilliant trail running/ hiking shoes! b. purchased a FatMax tool box for my painting gear, that I can roll out and work in the yard or on the deck or wherever I want, with all my brushes and tube/ jar paints and charcoals and essential tools. . . . fantastic! I had not set up a workspace since exiting the studio, so I am en route to getting visual work going again. all good reason to celebrate by running and painting!

from there, a bit on the 16 miler. after an easier week of running, I anticipated eagerly my sunday morning long run. it was crisp and cooler, a beautiful morning, a brief interlude from the pollen clouds torturing our southern landscape recently. so I climbed into the asics with a packet of gu chomps and one mini-clif bar, and began the run at 8h23 am. the drivers were few but compensated in their lack of numbers with an increased obliviousness while driving—always infuriating. I found a small overgrown trail offa' rogersville rd, followed that through a few spiderwebs and into the deep, hookers green woods, paused to fish out a gu gel, then sprinted back towards the road and down Wrightsville. airlie gardens was pretty, but the horses were not out. I ran smooth and long and was pleased with my pace. I aimed towards the water fountain at WB park and stopped in, ate my second gu gel, and kicked it to the coast. pausing at the glassed ocean and the drifting sun-slices, I prayed in gratitude, and began jogging back across the sand to the asphault to the draw bridge. I hit the draw bridge well and dropped down the other side, and the cramp began. and the cramp seized up my knee and seemed to crawl down my left calf, on the outside of the leg, and just lock down the joint. I slowed to jog it out, but with no reprieve. I walked. and thus began the cycle which would haunt the remaining four miles home. . . . run/ jog/ walk. I made it home by 10h44 am, stretched, then showered after an advil.   home depot, lunch of boiled shrimp & red potatoes, then work at 3pm. 

work was slow, slow, slow. the steps were fine on the ascent (every drink or order or transaction requires the running of a set of stairs), but the descent was painful on my left leg, just in the knee area. . . . I left after six hours of roaming and people-watching in the restaurant window with no real income to show for time.  I slept well and deeply and uninterrupted, then awoke with a very sore knee.  I stretched it out slowly to a tolerable throb. I pray that it will heal (with rest and ice) before our trip to PA as I sketch various parks & trail systems I want to visit. in reading lore of running, the injuries section with self-diagnosis paranoia in full-effect, i find every reason to be concerned and anxious, but i will remain patient as possible.  i will remain positive (my best mantra recently, even with punkrock sneer).

kyote is feeling better by the way!!