Post-run sentiment.

I would like some corned beef hash and a beer.  Sausage will suffice too.

Pre-run sentiment.

Still heavy hearted and confused.

Thankfully San Francisco weather reflects the sentiment.

Week 10: Lonely.

I hit about 21 miles today.

It was ugly.  I was supposed to hit 22.5.

I’ll get it next week.

Today I hated running alone.

I try running around in public.  Around folks I know who are more likely to cheer me on.

Today, no one cheered me on.

No one thought about me.

I know I thought about runners today.

I’ll get over it.

For now, fuck people.

It’s just me and San Francisco.

We dance.

We spar.

I spit on her.

She skins my knees.

I stare at her closely.

There’s no favor returned.

It’s an existential act.

It’s not a pretentious way of thinking.

Try it.

I’m rendered invisible with footsteps light.

She cradles me sometimes.

Either in fog,

sometimes sun.

A breeze, like a kiss on the cheek from someone you’d think you can spend the rest of your life with…

It’s fleeting though, because your body reminds you of where you’re at…

…and it’s not in bed.

It’s not in an embrace.

You think when you run your body to the ground, your endorphins kick in…but mine don’t anymore.

I did laugh today though.

The laugh came around mile 8.

I thought about 2046, the film.

I drew a schema of Wong Kar-Wai’s philosophy of love.

Rendered it to a 3 dimensional system filled with so much empty space.

Trajectories and groupings not quite random, but close.

Propulsion of bodies at different rates,

different sizes,

different expressions of brilliance.

I put myself on there.

I put her on there.

I saw us move within this system.

I saw the connection.

It’s tenuous right now.

It’s imbalanced.

Or the language obfuscated by physical distance.

I try.

I laughed, moments after seeing this in that system…

I love easily.

I can’t speak for her.

It doesn’t help that she’s so quiet either.

No bitterness.

Within this system, these things have a ways of working themselves out, that’s what I’m told.

I’m trying.

No secrets yet…

He didn’t turn back.

It was as if he’d boarded a very long train heading for a drowsy future through the unfathomable night.

Anima and Animus

I want this to work. Really do.

Eve, Helen, Mary, Sophia.

This is why it just can’t be.