It's high time I took at least a few minutes out of one of my daily tests of physical and mental endurance to write a bit in this blog, lest whatever powers that may inhabit the void into which these words are cast may not be fooled into thinking that my online presence is dormant.
Trey Anastasio is on Austin City Limits tonight, which will be OK for background music to which to type this entry but won't get much more attention than that from me. Sure, the guy can play; but lately cult bands (yeah, I know -- Phish broke up, but I might as well be listening to them all as to be listening to him right now) have simply annoyed me, and besides, this looks less like the intimate setting that is the program's trademark than like a full-blown arena gig, complete with beach ball. A view from the back of the stage reveals that it is indeed an outdoor show, taped at twilight and packed full of scrubbed, fratty-looking youngsters in various stages of music-and-chemical-induced exhileration. Used to be my scene, ain't no more. I'm too cynical now, too analytical. Give me a twisted but insightful take on reality over a pretty escapist dream. These are not the times. People living under a dictatorship cannot afford the luxury of fantasy.
Anyway, I got in a 17-mile long run this morning (nice segue, dipshit), exactly one week after doing a 40-minute long tempo & then coming down with the Head Cold From Hell, which still has me blowing huge globs of ropy, gluelike mucus form my nose (Aren't you glad you kept reading now? You're welcome). It's been a busy week, a busy month, a busy year -- and running has only been part of it. There's a lot going on right now -- marathon training, deadlines, my eventual exit from my job, some new stuff to help me make the transition -- and the next few months promise to be just as busy.
