1.30.2006

King Medicine

remember a few posts back when i said my left knee was giving me trouble. well, i did a little research and found out it is most definitely a case of itbs. basically a tendon in my knee rubbing against the bone and getting inflamed. no fun. so now i'm embarking on an iliotibial band recovery program and hope to be back on track for the marathon in no time. so don't worry. you can still send in your donations for my entry fee and medical care following the race.

still procrastinating on my first writing 340 paper, which i have outlined and all ready to be knocked down on paper but just can't seem to do until i see that deadline train steamin' right at me. it's not even a tough topic...i mean, how forms of incarceration ascribe social value to the imprisoned individual? c'est facile.

si vous êtes dans ma classe de français, ne lisez pas la paragraphe suivant.

(i would add a comment here about how writing that phrase in french reminded me of how my french class is really awkward most of the time because no one is willing to talk except for a couple of us, but i gave out my blog address during class because we were discussing the press and blogs and all that and i don't want to offend anyone from my class who might be reading this. but when the professor asked if anyone was going to visit my site, no one said they were, so i'm not too worried about it. however, i can't help wondering whether they actually were saying they didn't want to go to my site or if they were just refraining from social interaction as is the case during the rest of the 50 minute class.)

well. i think i'm going to listen to some eric johnson and go to sleep. here's hoping it's going to be a good week.

1.28.2006

Going On Tilt

something terribly depressing and
emotionally charged to
represent my
innermost
angst


playing the same songs on my guitar over and over again and listening to old cds from high school.

1.25.2006

Unpolluted

i thought i should inform my wide base of readers of exactly how much i do to make their experience on this site an enjoyable one, i mean, besides allow you to partake in such unadulterated intellectualism. blogger.com is partnered with google adsense. now if i desired, i could have a row of advertisements along the side of my blog, directly related to and influenced by the topics i discuss on a daily basis. not only that, each time someone would click on an advertisement, i would receive a small monetary reward. but since i'm so incredibly caring and thoughtful (and perhaps because my readership consists of 20 people at best and it's highly unlikely any of you would actually click on an advertisement) i have decided to graciously decline that opportunity to exploit my faithful audience.

i'd also like to point out that this is my 50th post. that deserves some sort of inspiring quotage...

"It was a pleasant café, warm and clean and friendly, and I hung up my old waterproof on the coat rack to dry and put my worn and weathered felt hat on the rack above the bench and ordered a café au lait. The waiter brought it and I took out a notebook from the pocket of the coat and a pencil and started to write."

(bonus points if you can tell me who said it)

1.23.2006

Memory Rewind

i officially renewed my membership in the mile-fly club today. 80 x 25 yards butterfly on the :30. i haven't done that much fly since the last time i conquered that 2,000 yard set with rossi back in what seems like a million summers ago.

my left knee is giving me trouble. i don't think it's happy about the whole marathon idea. here's hoping it holds out so i can get those 26.2 miles off of my to-do list.

camus wrote in the stranger that a man that has lived one day can live a thousand years in prison. just the memories of that one day in the world would be enough to last a hundred lifetimes. i was falling asleep last night and trying to wrap my head around the idea of a device that allowed me to recall all the memories of my life in vivid detail. i could spend decades in the ignorant bliss of childhood, as trite and cliche as that sounds.

Explosion

someone blew something up in the parking structure of my apartment complex tonight. the garage is located on the first floor, below the three floors of housing units. the device was constructed with a empty handle of vodka, and that is all we know. i was quietly strumming a rather simplified and offbeat version of clapton's you look wonderful tonight when the floor shook with a deafening boom. i thought i was rocking someone's world.

empty august streets

sleep escapes again into the night
steals away like a thief
gravel crunches underneath my footsteps
cold and black
the dark is pierced by the green and red
streetlights reflecting in the gutter water
there is a sense of cleanliness in the air
as if the cold has rendered it pure
silence on these empty streets
rising from the cold pavement
dull and penetrating
an unreal atmosphere on this quiet august night
gone is the sense of longing
no fear of this path before me
unwilling to concede defeat
my footsteps carry me along the streets
too diminutive to reach that place
the faint light in the distance
longing returns with ferocity
but again fear pervades my mind
bowing in defeat I turn for home
gravel under my footsteps
streetlights beckon the way
back to another sleepless night

1.21.2006

Six Degrees of Soreness

there is a major difference between 7 miles and 10 miles. i learned that lesson earlier today. i'll be in a bathtub of ice until monday, in case you need me.

the fire alarm bandit struck again on friday night. 1:35 in the morning, woken by the piercing shrieks of our alarm, forced to stand out in the cold and watch the sullen firemen trod into the complex to reset the system. i don't understand how people with such low maturity levels have managed to stay in school here. maybe i'm giving usc a little too much credit.

something weird happened last night while i was falling asleep. i was in that halfway state of drowsiness, just on the precipice of deep sleep, yet still vaguely aware of my surroundings. at that moment, i heard a sound that i can only describe as two bricks being slapped together in a stone hallway; almost a gunshot, but not quite as loud, yet with that cold, steely nuance of metal or stone striking stone. it seemed to start in that space in my head where the music seems to emanate from when i have headphones on, and then strangely seemed to effuse itself quickly down through my body and into my hands and feet, almost as if the sound was a wave of liquid tonality that rushed through my bloodstream. i'd like to stress at this point that i was not under the influence of any psychotropic substances. it was just such a strange experience to seemingly feel a sound, especially being that it was one that i believe was conceived within my own being.

1.16.2006

Where's Your Spark Now?

it's been a decent amount of time since my last post. that's mostly due to the fact that my creativity has been a little lazy the past week and a half. i have the usual things to report from my humble apartment in urbania. classes, professors, workouts, homework, guitar, etc. but my creative juices seem to be flowing at the moment, so i think i'll just run with that.

my parents and i left at around 6 in the morning for los angeles on the 7th, to bring me back to my current existence and to watch my brother's swim meet here at usc. as we left in the darkness of the early morning, or not-so-early, perspectives being accounted for, i sat staring out of the backseat window, it being to dark to read. i became gradually aware of something happening around me, outside. there is something intangible about the qualities of the early morning hours. i was jolted back to my high school days when i would jerk from a chlorine and aching-muscle-induced sleep at 4:45 a.m. for swim practice and drive the eight or so miles to the pool. there was always something about the atmosphere on those early drives. the streets were deserted, save for a few solitary sets of headlights passing in the swirling mist or glowing red taillights far off down shaw or ashlan. the streetlights reflected on the wet asphalt, shattering into glimmering streams of red and green light with an intensity that was never seen during daylight, or even in the evening, when bright, white-hot headlights dampened their impact. the air was cold and biting, but when i pulled it into my lungs it spread to the depths of my body, filling and swelling my chest with its pure, chilling intensity. ingrained in these sensations was the feeling that it all belonged to me, the stillness of the glistening streets and damp air, that it all was connected to my body and its quiet power was pouring through my skin and filling me with the strength to face the slowly rising sun.

1.05.2006

On the Losing End For Once

so here i am, the day after the loss. i really don't know how to say this, but it's almost a relief to finally have it out of the way. of course i'm saddened by the end of the win streak and the failure to make history by becoming the first team to win three consecutive titles. and i could sit here and spout out self-assuring phrases like "our boys gave it their best" and "we're still going to tear it up next year." i've heard a plethora of similar comments. but a loss is a loss and i'm going to accept it at that and try not to engage in any post-game analysis and finger-pointing. i understand that this was a life-altering event for many people and i humbly respect that, but i must say that despite my fervent and continued support of the team, i'm ready to move on with my life. so if you must talk about it, by all means, go ahead. just don't expect me to fall to my knees, my shoulders shaking with great sobs of sorrow and remorse.