April 24.25
twenty one miles
riding twice as far
eating twice as much
nothing lost
losing touch losing count, not that I am eating more but that I am counting less
my best guess
maybe 2400 or less?
biometrics
good, weight 239
naked except for drawers
does hilary clinton wear jockey shorts too
I used to be a boxer man myself
back when I still had balls
A
pril 27
622am
237 lbs
79mg
160 oats 160 roll lox cream cheese
320 at 730AM
6miles 9AM
170 dinner
490/11Am
100 fiber bar
25 jerky
60 soup
675 6pm
140
15
830
841 one hour studio eight?
tempus fugit pugit
April 28
5am 237# 74mg
180 omelet 710am
6 miles 8am
160 oats
340/1pm
230
5703PM
6 1PM
12 total
695/6pm
200
150
1045
16 miles
April 29
235.2, 74 mg 510AM
80 eggs salsa 6am
6.5 miles 8AM
out among the stars
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E8Rqe63ZZuo
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Re: "manifest destiny" and such ...
by stilltrucking » Fri Apr 25, 2014 8:09 pm
I don't understand either. Sometimes it makes me doubt my sanity. A friend once told me if everyone seems crazy that is a good sign you are crazy. I suppose it is some comfort to know there are others who don't get it either. Not so lonely feeling.
thanks for writing
poets were once beat, or dead
now they type in text boxes
simple glory to wild freakout
adolescent gushing, absurd tendrils
a billion screams in the machine
spontaneous combustions of art
language and image
so what the hell can we do about it now , a sweet lament
among us
litkick orphans™
another absurd gushing appeal to tendrils of distant minds
as we try to find a way to carry on what we have lost
, the bulletin board software is so godamned linear you can't see the curves, the way the posts on different threads feed off of each other, the threads weaving together into strands of thoughts interconnected into a whole that is meaning full yet pleasing to the monkey brain..
always looking for patterns like being constantly stoned on acid seeing the uncanny all around me, trying to find the patterns in the abstract, a fractal-ized consciousness
this is just another scream in the machine
but I am tired of thinking about Camelot
not tired, depressed maybe. trying to find a way to carry on
that software worked for Levi but most of all it was the people who were attracted to his personality, a really beautiful cant, a lot like Jack, but jack was not a philosopher king, he liked the clowns, the mad men, not so rational
sorry mnaz,
a road adventure
you do good work
if I had not liked it I would not have spilled my guts,
Have you ever done a search of your posts and look at the result for patterns>>>?
interconnections to other thread by other people?
You get a page of snippets which are sometimes interesting and related.
But that is probably just my vanity
I guess I still have that image of the litkicks threads in my minds eye when I post these random text boxes of mine.
sorry for the blurt
What pisses me off is being alive.
If I was dead I think I would be more content with things
Sorry sometimes I forget that we must stand by our words as if they actually mean something, all my friends are dead philologists it seems
I know the type, they love to play word games, it is all a lovely game, everything is beautiful in their beautiful minds, there is always room for doubt.
And they exploit doubt with their immaculate logic,
Always another side to the issue, on the other hand,
the invisible hand of the market place maybe.
What do I know, I am crazy.
I think it is all Freud's fault, he laid open our monkey brains to the behavioral engineers of Madison avenue and Wall street,
Ronald Reagan was the beginning of the end of freedom
the final victory of the organization man
The Century of The Self ™
is over
we live in its aftermath
it will be a time of peace and plenty for a few
for many austerity and adversity
but not so many
will notice
a gang of three
a personality cult
who am I to say
I belonged there like a pearl onion on a banana split
things are changing
and after the fire next time
we will be saying
these were the good old days
unbelievable good days
right here right now
on
studio eight
but
not so good in the Congo
but pheffffffft,
nobody cares about that
it's the white man's burden
it is a terrible cross to bear
I don't know why I think about it even
have not seen a story on it in weeks
as if i have to remind myself of suffering when I am not suffering so as not to forget to pray to Jesus and play the lotto.
we live on the edge here, we are marginal people, men of means by no means
but king of the road jam
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Re: april (!)
by zero_hero » Thu Apr 24, 2014 10:36 am
Freedom is in the wind
that caresses me
I go the way it blows
http://www.sho.com/sho/years-of-living- ... omerhalder
living dangerously tavis film clip\
perpetual jam entropy and poetry
https://www.google.com/search?q=+poetry ... channel=sb
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Re: "manifest destiny" and such ...
epigenetics semiotics and the mystery of the organism
march 17, 264 — april 5, 251
April 29 240
April 27
622am 237 lbs 79mg
6miles 9AM
830 calories
tempus fugit pugit
April 28
5am 237# 74mg
1045 calories
16 miles
April 29
235.2, 74 mg 510AM
80 eggs salsa 6am
6.5 miles 8AM
out among the stars
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E8Rqe63ZZuo
New York City in 17 Syllables
http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2014 ... pe=article
Kindness|Poet’s Pick
On the 6 to Spring
two cops help a tourist whose
map is upside down
— Frances Richey, 63, Manhattan
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Strangers, Commute
Subway circus act
Feats performed on silver poles
Jaded faces melt
— Alex Forbes, 56, Wingdale, N.Y.
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Strangers
Strange how fast night comes:
Silence, as I pass through you,
wide awake at dark.
— Kaitlin Duffy, 24, Brooklyn
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Commute
morning Q commute
has the best smell of the day:
coffee and shampoo
— Vanessa Vichit-Vadakan, 43, Berkeley, Calif.
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Commute
Beware the puddle
of indeterminate depth
that swallows boots whole
— Mary M. Suk, 44, Queens
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Strangers
Face seen across tracks,
We stare, and a train passes,
Face gone forever.
— Hillel Rosenshine, 14, Manhattan
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Strangers
subway to the beach
two strangers in the first car
comparing surfboards
— Jeffrey Rabkin, 61, Manhattan
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Kindness
Homeless gentleman
White cane seeks safe street crossing
Teenage boy takes arm
— Judith Smith, 79, Halifax, Nova Scotia