I Hear Echos Here

There isn't any ledge. No cliffs. No crashing waves below.

No mountain tops falling off into canyons, there was no ascent I can remember.

Still, it does seem awfully quiet..
Birds, traffic, was that a cloud?
Hello? Is there anybody out there?

I have a vague idea of what blogging is all about.
In my newly updated version, blogging is the best way for an aspiring writer to publish work on-line and find out if anyone out there really cares about said writer's sentence structures, verbs, cadence and/or punctuation.

Which leads me to run-on sentences.
I love them and I couldn't live without them.

My feeling...

If the reader cannot read it aloud in a single breath then perhaps said reader should consider checking into purchasing any one of many different types of treadmills or elliptical machines at the nearest local sporting goods store. They may also sell bicycles.

And that leads us right into going green.
Solar panels are a good idea. So are wind turbines...perhaps a few massive greenhouses stretching across a number of states to grow sugar cane and corn aiding an E-85 transition?
Um. I hear Detroit might be available.
Nuclear anyone?

Seriously, I have no idea how to blog.
Am I doing it right?
Hello?

Pretty

Pretty reaps disaster,
And climbs her way back inside her pills.
Her frown is swallowed into laughter,
& Pretty's crown is thorns.
Her farewell smile dissolves her parents doubt..
She's drowning, barely living,
A stillborn, asphyxiated from the world.
Twisted and tattered,
Tortured and tempted,
She's thinking ugly thoughts.
Pretty is more than smiles,
More than who appears,
She is in trouble.
Pretty is sinking deeper,
Down into her fears.
More than the beauty she defines,
Pretty needs someone to hear her,
To listen while there's time.

A moment of honest outside these material confines.


Cosmopolitan ideology easily snares our rattled attention.

Deficits of discipline have discipled our journey to this,
the end of the world.

As it goes, our tragic kingdom has all but fallen,
and we the people hold out dirty hands for more.


The vanities this life can offer will consume us to our ends.


Then finally, everyone might understand what we have become.
We are all and only what we have created,

A lonely world consumed by what itself has made,
gazing to a vanity fair for answers.

Answers will come.
In a moment of honesty outside these material confines,
a moment spent reminding us how we came to where we have become...

A world in need of change.

2005

Work It, Make It, Do It

I've been seeing a chiropractor for six weeks.

My spine has been twisted and I've felt my body crack and crunch in ways I've never considered possible.

My ankles have been reset now aligned properly with my knees, and my hips and their bursa have been rotated, stretched and electrocuted.

My body has been broken down into what feels like little more than a malleable frame of bone and ooze, and I am learning to put myself back together again.

Challenged, I am trudging through the first lingering injury I've experienced since picking up a running routine.

Surprised, I've found there is a great deal of mental toughness required to battle back and it must be done in small steps.

My spine twisted, I try to stand up straight and stay in stride.
My hips fire and my hamstrings stretch, my toes grip through socks to the insoles of my shoes and I let my ankles take on all my weight one at a time.

Left foot, right foot, left foot, right.

My arms move in alternating, repeating L-shaped rotations,
I remember to breathe and focus,
I push my body to its limits, to its threshold for pain.

Muse powers to my ear drums and that same lingering twinge sends powerful painful messages to my brain.

I have to stop. I have to rest. I have to let the radiating pangs burning up my back, knee and hip subside.

And then I do it all again.
Until my body is screaming.
Until my brain knows it's enough.

I do it because I know,
I do it because I am positive that in time the misery will pass.

Patience and diligence,
Practice and conditioning,

I hope I can soon look back on the start to this running season and my body will hardly remember what my brain perceived as pain.

After all,
that which doesn't kill you.....

The sun set hours ago but still I listen to the cool breeze affect the blinds over the sliding glass door.

By now the cars that pass must have their headlights guiding them between the dashed and solid lines on the thoroughfares, and I am illuminated face and shoulders by my screen.

I've been sitting here for hours trying to figure out basic HTML.
Frustrated, I'm fairly sure this is supposed to be much simpler than I've made it!
All I want is this to go here and that to go over there,

*/
body {
margin-top: 0px;
margin-$endSide: 0px;
margin-bottom: 0px;
margin-$startSide: 0px;
background:#123
font-size/* */:/**/small;
}

Right...right...

Is anyone else hungry?

A Journey of A Thousand Miles

The sound of tires on brick and stone from the streets below fill my apartment.
Birds chirp and suggest that springtime has arrived.
In the sky, clouds are gathering against the sun and blocking away the daylight.

"Too cloudy, too cold," my brain is making excuses.

Another wave of passing guilt runs through my body and I know I should be out beating the sidewalks.
I check the stock and I take a quick evaluation of my body, joints and muscles.

"Not today," my body is begging.

My pair of Nikes taunt me from just inside the front door.
My body starts to feel too soft and my brain tells me that the hip will start hurting, the knee will ache.

But there is something telling me to go, telling me to get up and leave this blog behind. I have to find out. I have to try and make it.

I have to get out there and make that first step.