a while ago, I was toying with the idea of doing a post on why I'm so awesome. i was on a bit of a rampage, going hard through my workouts, making good relationships with people at work, getting shit done. i even knew how to make a figure-four deadfall trap.
and then it all fell apart.
the trap turned out to be very sensitive and would have been effective if it weren't for the lack of pull in the decade-old bungee cord that was supposed to provide tension. the running workouts were awesome and hard and propelling me toward absolute victory in my sub-three-hour-marathon goal, and then my mind got so tired and preoccupied it was all i could do to make it through the wind one foot in front of another in the golden sunshine of no man's land. and i got complaints and consultations at work, something about questioning evaluations and consistency and something else. bullshit.
there is no need to talk about all the broken feet and ankles in the house this autumn. there is no need to address the things that got lost in yardwork long past due, or the things that got lost between 'me' and 'you'. there is no need to write about the fact that i can't write so much anymore, that everything that used to be is no more, that easy wasn't even yesterday, that tomorrow no longer shines with possibility. we may not give up on hope or progress or the nitty gritty in between, but, i tell you, there is much more to be desired. i still wake up exhausted but it's not always because i ran so far the day before. my legs hurt but not in a good way. my lungs are slowly filling with the thick dredge of winter. and you'll notice there's no poetry here.
so on we go, hapless and hazardous, teetering on edges more than brinks, just stumbling toward somewhere that's got to be better than here and now, because here and now kinda sucks. on and on and on.