Erik Amundsen's Blog, page 50

Run Blogging Day 9

Running is becoming frustrating.

Submissions Don't Matter

King of Pine has gone everywhere I can think to send it, and come back every time, so, yeah, time for a rewrite.

Run Blogging Day 7 & 8

MY legs are a wreck.  Ran down to the center of town yesterday to pay my taxes and mostly walked back.  Tried running today and ended up sitting in someone's lawn, nearly paralyzed by pain.  Clearly, something's working.  Right?

New Playlist Tomorrow?

I have a preliminary - 23 songs, 105 minutes, designed for maximum mood whiplash between rage and despair, apparently.  I managed to undercut The Decembrists' "This is Why We Fight."  Brutally.  Seems somewhat worthy of... I dunno.  Notice.  Also it's got Skrillex, Dan Fogelberg and Grendel in sequence.  That's...  Well, I am going to be listening to see if it still works, that's for sure.

Run Blogging Day 6

2 Miles, even slower.  Very painful, very sweaty.  Glad I did it.

A test post.

I see my own post on my friend's page, and I wonder if I posted to another place by mistake.  There are no indications that I am, I am just suddenly struck curious.

Run Blogging Day 5

More running.  2 miles or so.  

Bicycle Mulligan

Tree clearing crews have gotten to the places I want to ride, constraining my tracks, so only a two mile ride.  All the hills were terrible, though, and that either saddens or worries me.  In another week, if they remain terrible, it will be worry.  Everyone around me is dropping to a second round of awful colds/flu, so I could just be fighting something.  I think I will run later today.

I am getting better at giving blessings.  

Apropos to Nothing

If you seek to destroy someone, arrange the story to the point where the object of your hatred must be destroyed.  It's impossible to turn aside a fate once you've accepted it.

And Now We Know Why You Never Remember those Songs You Compose in Dreams

Because after Taichi class in which my old instructor clearly no longer gave a fuck and asked me to teach a blind kid what I remembered, while a little kid's ballet class was also running in the same space and the last remaining adult member of the class (a chubby young blond woman with a trucker hat) either made a pass at me on her way out the door or didn't, I wandered down a sunny Manchester Main Street, found a ukeleli, and began to play, making up a song on the spot about things I saw.

It's like Zooey Deschanel wrote a song about vore...

Little brown pitcher plant
I found you all dry and flat
but you once contained a secret liquid (oh)

You once grew so tall and sweet
you must have seemed quite good to eat
for all the moths and flies and bees who came to you

and all I wanna know is
and all I wanna know is

If you could've ingested me
would you have digested me
would you have left me a tiny skeleton

If my life ended inside you
could I rise again beside you
and would both dry out when sun got too strong

and all I wanna know is
and all I wanna know is

Little red squirrel in my car
eating cookies on my floor
all I want to know is how they got there (oh)

You look up and me and stare
is it boldness, is it fear
and part of me just wants to go and take you home

and all I wanna know is
and all I wanna know is

You would not make a good pet
I already have two cats
and they would try to eat you if they got the chance

Please don't take it person'ly
they would do the same to me
if I were small enough to eat and they love me, too

and all I wanna know is
and all I wanna know is
and all I wanna know is
and all I wanna know is


And then the song went right into "Holland 1945" by Neutral Milk Hotel and proved to me that my subconscious should not have been given the encouragement it's gotten recently.