Low Blog Enthusiasm Blues. Also: HAIL MOTHA’ FUCKIN’ ERIS!!!

It’s always tough to get back on the pony after she’s kicked your sorry ass off. With over a weeks worth of boring fitness updates to plug into this thing here and little meaningful progress to highlight it with … well, you get it. I ran 35+ miles last week, some of those were good miles. I also lifted some weights and stood on a scale a few times. Other than that there really isn’t a lot to tell. How about some life news while I ponder the next step in this fitness chronicle? Yes, thank you, that does sound good.

THE NEWS:

As of a couple of days ago I now have a totally bitchin’ Mohawk, so I think it’s pretty obvious some things are going to be changing for me. Sometimes you have to let Eris borrow the car. You do. I knew that as a young man and am relearning it today. While my wife and daughter were visiting family in Florida this last week I had the privilege of going out drinking with some super-cool black dudes. And while yes that last statement might be considered just left of racist (On MLK parade day no less), I can report back that it was both something I’ve never done before and an extremely refreshing experience. Now as Mohawks go that’s neither here-nor-there – just another seemingly random thing I did. Also none of my new chums believed I’d actually get the nuts up to take on such an absurdly dickish hairdo, so surprising them was also fun. What’s important is the never done before bit. I’ve had a little taste of that sweet and scary confection this past week and had forgotten how delightfully addicting it can be. Sure a Mohawk on anyone in this day and age, much less a 30+ year old man (errr … Croation woman), is sound evidence of a butt-fucking dickface. I get that. It is after-all half, or even a good deal more than half, of the outrageously pleasing point. But this must be acknowledged: Mohawks look cool on little boys and anachronistic punk rock chicks. Mr. T has pulled it off all these years because he’s crazy and willful. No other reason. If you’re not a child or an already pretty cute young lady who just discovered the Sex Pistols, excellent chance the Mohawk isn’t going to be a good look for you. I’m saying stuff.

So that (to use a Richard Dawkins coinage that I hate ) is the meme,  chaos. I’m a month off course of the true Zodiac, but Pisces owns my (h)air with her whirling fishies anyhow. She being the many splendo(u)red sign of change, and the last of the always formidable water Nyads. It should be seen as no accident that astronomers, both modern and otherwise, placed these powerful discordian water signs out in the farthest reaches of our known solar system when naming things that circle our star while spinning: Eris and Neptune. Out by the celestial wild west of the Oort cloud’s cusp, frozen but free.

That’s some excitingly frisky nonsense I just typed. Much better than: ran 6 miles today in blahBblah and :65436763546 seconds. Foot hurt, used ice. Speaking of nonsense, perhaps now would be a good time to go into my daily (Meaning 3-4 times per. week – whenever I say daily it should be understood that this is what I mean) spiritual practice. Yes, I’m also a very lazy guru. A spiritual guide of extremely limited magic and motivation. Remember, the only Zen you’ll find at the top of the mountain is the Zen you bring up there. Which also happens to be true of anything else you might carry and any other similar ascendable peak: the only cheeseburgers you’re going to find on top of your house are the ones you bring up there. See? How’s that? Half a paragraph deep and I’m already dropping some insanely heavy wisdom. Try this little quote:  ”Don’t go looking for stuff where you’re not sure it will be. Instead, bring the stuff with you! That way you’re sure to have it when you get somewhere” ~Yosef Barbo Wow! I’m fucking nailing it today!!! That ones going in a book of quotations. Eat me, Winston Churchill! Get your fat, dead ass out of that tomb and enjoy the penis and butthole I’ve prepared for you in my underpants. Snarky dead cunt!

… but of course also a brilliant statesman. England did not become Germany Part Zwo, and that pompous dickface had a lot to do with it. Respect!

SPIRITUAL PRACTICES:

My current spiritual practice is very simple and rewarding. In fact, if you were so inclined to try it, you could literally start today without any extra preparation and probably have a pretty fun experience. Yes, I’ll describe it to you as if teaching it to you. While unlikely, the assumption is harmless. So this is what you’ll need for the practice, rapt disciple:

1. Between 15 – 30 minutes of absolute solitude. Good chance you’ll only need the low-end, but keep a half hour clear for safety sake.

2. A notebook and reliable pen or pencil.

3. A watch, clock or even cell phone; something portable that tells time.

4. A spot on the floor that you can sit.

That’s all you need. Easy, right? Now down to business.

The first thing you’ll want to do is assume the half-lotus on the floor spot you’ve previously selected.

Worried that you don’t know how to meditate? Don’t. Either nobody knows how to meditate or there is nothing to know. All I want you to do is sit in a position roughly similar to the clay monster above, with your eyes open (only slightly open if that is more comfortable for you) and your portable time keeping device positioned somewhere you can easily glance at it. While seated try hard to clear your mind of thought, but don’t get frustrated if that proves difficult. A good way to quiet a busy ego is to focus on breathing. Counting breathes can help. And even repeating something internally like: this is my breath going into me ’1′ this is my breath coming out of me ’1′ this is my breath going into me ’2′ this is my breath coming out of me ’2′. Sound tedious? Oh it can be, sometimes unendurably so, but you only owe 10 minutes to start so just try to relax into it. On a typical sit, if my mind and body prove responsive, I’ll lower my rate of respiration from around 12 per minute to 6-8, and my pulse will fall into the 50′s – even once or twice the high 40′s. I’ve also been able to disconnect my breath focus, but that took some practice so don’t worry about that out of the gate. None of that last shit is important actually, I’ve just recorded it for my own amusement. Ignore the bookkeeping, just focus on breath.

After meditating do your level best to get your notebook and writing utensil. Your mind and body will be slow to respond to these prompts, so don’t be surprised if it takes you a while. Once obtained, get back to your spot on the floor and write as fast as humanly possible for 5 minutes. This is called automatic writing, and it is probably the exact opposite of Zen meditation. There is really nothing procedural for me to teach you. Just try hard to lift your mental filter and pour out 5 minutes of handwriting as fast as you can. Everything you’ve got!

A couple of warnings:

A. If you’re doing the writing correctly your brain will put down some things without your permission, and some of those things you may not like. That’s just the way it goes … if there is anything to learn in the process it is within those dark secrets.

B. In all probability after meditation you will only be able to write at about half (maybe a little more) of your normal handwriting blitz speed. That can be very frustrating, but try not to brood on it. Any little hang-up like that can (not will, just can) pollute your output. You’ll catch yourself writing something like: whywontmyhandworkwhywontmyhandworkwhywontmyhandwork over and over again. Unproductive stuff. and if interest demands as much, you are of course free to do an automatic writing session without meditating first. You’ll find the experience much different, though no less rewarding.

So why do this anyway? Well, like the late great prophetic poet William Blake, I believe the entire point of a personal spiritual journey is to seek  the stuff people are made of, human fiber over the divine. I’m indifferent to the topic of god … or, no. That isn’t true. I’m very interested in god, it just doesn’t have a lot to do with my exploration. I believe that most people (myself heartily included!) have a limited understanding of who or even what we are – a troubling hypothesis on my part when considering how vehemently many in our world claim to understand the whimsy of our creator. However, unlike our lord, there are methods, or at least hypothetical methods, for discovering some knowledge of our inner-space. I believe my little experiment is just such a method and I’d like to offer a sample of my writing for your inspection.

Spoiler Alert: a large percentage of what is to follow will be utter Jabberwocky. I picked the most benign recent sample I could find, many of the others are highly sensitive and/or upsetting to virtually any and everyone. Also, to borrow Freudian jargon, this is really about gaining access to the Id while awake; ergo, much of what will be perceived gibberish to you is really something of a highly specific cypher to the writer (me). In other words, this example is a novelty. It can show you something like what might come out of you in this exercise, nothing more. Enjoy!

Automatic Writing: 01.14.11

What is automatic writing? The automatic, automatic? Is it coffee? Is it a coffee place? Is it a coffee and question mark place today? I am here on the floor. the carpet churns chocolate-colored snowflakes at me. I am on them as though falling. My notes are white against the milk chocolate spiral. I’m thinking in Tarot: King of Swords, Four of Cups. Penis and quadrilateral vagina. I have my watch and my coffee. I owe 5 minutes. This is thesis writing, automatically. I am on the ground and the pressure is slowing my hand. The pressure of gravity and an awkward body position combined.

I am a believer in the handwriting, the automatic handwriting. On a computer I would not be able to see how I’ve accentuated ‘ground’ and ‘vagina’. Also ‘accentuate’ and ‘a question’ have been altered. Though perhaps I just don’t write the word ‘accentuate’ free hand enough? It looks funny. Like a rolling centipede. questions!

So that’s automatic writing – 5 minutes worth a few days back.  nothing outlandish there … maybe 200 words, maybe less. Please give my experiment a shot and report back. I know you wont, but if you did I’d like to hear about it.

Alsoalsoalso, in closing and unrelated: two days ago I ran 17 miles pretty easily in 3 hours with a lot of stops (bathroom, coca cola). It was a great run and good confidence booster. That’s all you’re getting for fitness updates. Suck dog farts. Do it. If you don’t have a dog I’m sure you can borrow one. Grab that little beast, get to squeezing on his tummy, and play him like a squirming set of bagpipes. You’re a fart sucker, don’t let me tell you your business. Just get to work!

This blog is long and helps no one with anything. I am maybe 32 days from the Marathon … I’ll get back on that soon. Yes. That is my intention. Perhaps tonight even … perhaps not.

Good morning blogosphere!

Y~

 

What I did today for exercise, plus some very modest resolutions for the new year.

DAY 44/2: Tuesday January 4th

Gym: This morning I did some nice lifting, felt strong albeit hungry and slightly dizzy from the new diet.

Bench presses @ 160 x 3, 190 x 3, 210 x 6 (like yesterday’s, this is really showing two small warm-up sets and one serious test set. Hit 6 reps at 210 lbs, certainly not the strongest I’ve ever been but it was hard ass work and I came by it honestly.)

Alternated Wide grip pull-downs (120 lbs.) and push-ups, 10 reps per set, 5 sets of each, minimal rest between. Did them as quickly as my tired, aging body would allow and derived a lot of pleasure from the raw self-inflicted misery. And I also did some other assistance crap that isn’t really worth mentioning. Oh yeah, and I hit my new favorite: Tabata Bike Heart Attack Machine!

This video sucks but if you’d like a visual of what I’m doing on the bike, well, here ya’ go:

Running: 5.5 miles in 51:31, which works out to about a 9:25 pace. Today’s goal was to run half as far as yesterday @ roughly the same tempo, which, despite some heavy legs, I was able to improve upon without too much stress. A good solid run. And an interesting statistical aside: my running for the last 6 days (one of which I simply didn’t run at all) totals to almost exactly 26.2 miles (a marathon) in about 4 hours and 15 minutes. So if in the next 44 days I can figure out how to condense that work into one single effort of similar length I’ll enjoy a successful race day! Sound impossible? Yeah, well, like you don’t know everything, so there!

Body weight is holding at a cool 205, and my meditation practice is no longer … umm … well it’s a practice again, so that’s good. Let’s move on to New Year’s Resolutions.

Resolution Solution!

My good friend and blogger, mommyk8 holds an excellent blog down right there. Right where I’ve turned her handle purple back a few words. Click that and you’ll read of an ambitious woman tackling many intimidating trials in the coming year. She’s done this sort of thing in the past and it always proves an entertaining chronicle. Similarly my brother in-law, good friend, and also blogging enthusiast, B.D.J. has decided to throw his hat into the circle and post an equally ambitious list of personal goals to be had within the next 360ish days. As you’ve undoubtedly noticed I have also turned his internet moniker purple, thereby showing you how to read what I read. So if I’ve turned just one drunken pervert or Ryan Reynolds stalker onto either of these fine blogs I’ll know I’ve done good work today.

Okay, so another reason why I’ve highlighted my good pal’s blogs here is to illustrate by way of comparison how pathetic and easily achievable my Resolutions clearly are. A good example: I’d like to get my driver’s license. mommyk8′s going to write a novel, master stand-up comedy, and knit both sweaters and caps for everyone she’s ever met in her entire life (you can hold off on mine until next November or so - pretty warm here in Georgia.). Jeremy on the other hand intends to become a yogi, run 100,000 miles, and eat nothing all year he doesn’t grow with his own two hands out of his family garden. Did I mention both these turkeys already have their drivers licenses?!? Yeah!

So it could be that none of that is true. I can’t be 100% at this point. I mean the people are real but the rest is hazy. Check the links out and get back to me. Anyway my resolutions, I’ve only got a couple so here we go:

1. I’d like to read some new books and write a few reviews on this thing here. This is something I’ve done before and really got a lot out of it. And yeah, let’s shoot for 50 books. A number is a number. They help sometimes, they do. 50 seems like a lot. Will I hit that many? Probably not. So what? 40 and 30 aren’t very sexy numbers. 25 is okay, but I’d hit that in my sleep. Gotta’ try for 50.

2. I’d like to get started on writing my own damn novel and post some of that up on this blog too. This is also something I’ve tried in the past, but with less success. I’ve done a little math on my prose output and figure a solid rough draft will take me about 3 (maybe even 5) years to put together, so that doesn’t make a ton of sense as a resolution. Still, numbers! Numbers are logical, they keep you on track, force you to face deadlines. Hmmmmmm? How about this: one new prose post (as in new fiction) per month as a show of good faith that I am actually working towards a theme (if for no one but myself). That seems reasonable enough.

I’d add something about writing poetry and reading it out on the town too, but I’m going to do that anyway. See it’s not really a challenge because I already very much want to do it and am fully prepared to skip out on other more important things to continue with it, i.e. feeding and bathing the child. You can’t make a resolution to continue doing something you already love doing. Drinking beer and watching conspiracy documentary films on Netflix wouldn’t make sense as a resolution, which is really sad because it’s awesome and easy to do.

3. I’d like to get Crossfit certified as a personal trainer. I don’t even know that I want to become a personal trainer, but there’s a whisper in my ghost and it’s saying I need to go and check this shit out up close. So I’m going to try. I guess no numbers for this one though … maybe sometimes numbers are shit? I don’t know. Let’s just say by 1.1.12 I should have already gone and taken the course or I’m an awful liar. Yeah, I’m comfortable with that.

4. The car thing. Yes. You can all find something new to bitch about behind my back (har har!). I will strive to drive!

So that’s all I’ve got for tonight. Rereading my resolutions, they’re actually pretty lofty – I mean except for the driving thing; nearly any brain-dead, dip-shit teenager can do that. One at a time they’re not too intimidating but all together they really represent a lot of work. I imagine that’s why we gravitate towards this masochistic little ritual year after year. It’s thrilling, even in failure it is somehow delightful to review these lists. I don’t want to get into it too deeply right now, but there is something excellently satisfying about coming up short on something (doesn’t really matter what) and knowing at your core that it was entirely your own fault. A sick warm rush, like crapping in the bath tub! You are guilty, and as your punishment you must now stew in that poop soup!

Good night dear readers. It is late. I must now sleep. Sorry if this is all nonsense but proofreading a blog post at 3 a.m. is an asinine chore that i will not be participating in.

cheers

y~

 

 

30 Day Crossfit Paleo Challenge (to coincide confusingly with my 60 Day Rocky Balboa Nightmare Ocean Bottom Band!)

http://crossfitlove.com/2011/01/03/day-1-the-30-day-paleo-challenge/

the link should answer any questions you have about the diet pretty succinctly. That’s what I’ll be doing for the next 30 days, part and parcel for my fast approaching and perhaps well under prepared February Marathon. Will a strict caveman diet aid me in this great struggle or cost my dearly? Stay tuned for future updates on just that!

In other news, I had a real crap week of running. Totaled fewer miles all week than I’ll be expected to cover on race morning, so that isn’t encouraging. Here’s the rundown:

DAY 48: Friday December 31st

Running: 10k (6.2 miles) barefoot, best barefoot effort in a while. No music, no distractions, just me and several thousand foot falls. Thought a lot about form and turnover. Neither pushing too hard or too soft. A perfect run, and the only even adequate one I had for several days thereafter.

That evening I busted my ass wide open on one of the worst nights at the Pink House, ever! (both from anecdotal history lessons by coworkers and from my own limited personal experience) And subsequently got very drunk to bring in the New Year and beat down my job related angst. Good for training? Not at all!

DAY 47: Saturday January 1st

Did jack-shit for exercise and enjoyed a diet of Tylenol and antacids besides. I have nothing else funny to say … just didn’t do anything.

DAY 46: Sunday January 2nd

Running: 20 minutes of nothing, bullshit barefoot work. A lame effort with no good excuse behind it. Once again I can add nothing humorous or meaningful … I was very grumpy and did little.

Day 45/1: Monday January 3rd (Fuckin’ today, fool!)

First day of the Paleo challenge and my first night off from work in a long while. Was feeling good all day and very much enjoyed the clean eating. It is now 1 a.m., and I’ve had no serious cravings or difficulty with the restrictions. Also, I learned that sweet potatoes are Paleo; which proved an extremely welcome and satisfying addition to my evening meal. I’m sure you couldn’t possibly give a shit, but I promise you a steaming hot sweet potato is a huge step up from a cup each of raw carrot and fart igniting broccoli. Someday, when you begin your quest for a sexy midriff, you’ll heed this excellent if a tad boring diet advice and be well on your way to achieving my highly coveted and supremely sexy shirtless swagger because of it. It’s a dream you have, and a very unrealistic one, but not impossible if you do exactly what I say when I say it. This is solid gold, A+ shit I’m just tossing at ya’ for free. You’re welcome!

Gym: Nothing too insane. The usual crossfit warm-up that I like plus a few sets of Overhead Squats @ 70 lbs. x 3, 80 x 3, 90 x 5 (really two semi-heavy warm up sets and a max effort test. Very happy to hit 5 reps, I’m really pretty weak at this movement and that paltry sum represents a personal best.)

Also hit some leg extensions and leg curls, both @ 105 lbs, both for 5 reps and 5 sets, no rest between. Way too easy by the way, I’ll have to mess with that load next week. After that I did some other gay and very random crap that I didn’t even bother to write down – because apparently even me ‘in the moment’ thought it was lame – and hit another nice Tabata Bike session which are really starting to pay off.

Running: 10.5 (maybe even 11) miles in 1:41:53, and let’s call that somewhere in the 9:40-9:50 per mile pace. My target time was to go just slightly below 10 per., and I hit exactly what I was aiming for. Afterwards I did some very intense stretching and icing of the old ankles. Really took it seriously this evening and am excited to get a days worth of solid self-maintenance under my belt. Tomorrow I’ll attempt to keep that ball rolling, which reminds me: it’s tomorrow right now and I owe my anguished spirit a significantly neglected zazen plop down. No that isn’t street slang for scat play, it means I need to take 15 – 20 and get reacquainted with the higher me who’d just as soon skip watching every holiday restaurant goer in Savannah die screaming. You know, that guy.

So all for tonight! Tomorrow (hopefully) I’ll try to get some New Year’s goal type things up in this total-lack-of-reading-pleasure having bitch! Either look forward to that or suck a living cougars dick … either type, be it the famed and very dangerous mountain lion variety or an older but still attractive woman – actually, no, transvestite; because with the dick you’ll be sucking on my request we’re going to have to go she-male cougar – who has a predilection for much younger men, i.e. boys, i.e. you! Take your pick. Bring a male cougar to climax with your face and we’re square you and me. Done and done.

Sleep tight. Business is expected to lighten significantly this week at the Pink House, so with luck I’ll be able to cultivate a better attitude in correlation to its decline. Happy Fucking New Year whatever the case.

cheers

y~