2007-07-22
time running
I�m feeling so placid, it amazes me. I don�t know why I didn�t watch the sunset. I don�t know why I don�t walk along the beach; I�m not that tired. I can�t decide what kind of music I�m in the mood for. I don�t feel like indulging in anything. It�s as though I�ve been so used to being self-centered, this whole time, that now I�m not sure what I want to do with myself. I have neither the desire nor the will to go beyond myself, yet I am inconsequentially bored.
Were I home, on a night like this, I would drive out to West Valley and bask in the twilight, just watch the lines of the mountains etched against the sky fade into the darkness. Try not to think, just look, just feel the air on my bare skin, open and inviting to that perfect temperature, those seventy degrees that blend with my body and make me feel part of the atmosphere. I want to smell the cow, the mint fields, watch the corn fields sway. It�s written, �feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth among the fields of gold.� I don�t even want such passion, such vigor. I just want to sit and look.
Things feel at a standstill. I�m not sure what I want to do tonight. I wanted to mention something here about how I�m halfway done; today it�s forty-two days passed, forty-two remain. That means little to me, when I try to draw reason from it. We always try to quantify time, with our clocks and calendars. We sheepishly watch the sun as it crosses the sky, ticking forward like the minute hands of our watches. We give it a number, a name. Saturday. Seven o�clock. This elusive concept, we try to stamp coherence on it. I�m not so sure.
With the rest of my evening, I will run. I love the feeling, I love the pain, because it is sensation, and sometimes I feel like I am lacking sensation here. I will revel in the hurting that comes with my flaming lungs, and my bloody muscles striding onward. My muscles, my joints, the coordination of my organs, my lovely pumping heart, all at an apex. I am a machine that is being fine-tuned; I now understand why they call automobile clinics body shops. My endurance grows, I strengthen. My fuel is my will, more valuable than diesel. You can find me striding past the shore of Lake Erie, that�s where I�ll be.
leesah-likes at 10:56 p.m.