http://www.inman.com/news/2008/03/21/when-media-coverage-industry-interests-clash

note the Bulletin

I am sitting at Townshend Tea House in downtown Bend this morning writing a bit, trying to pass the time. A couple of kids sitting next to me are playing chess. A little girl, restless in her wyas, sings out Our God is awesome...over and over again. She is fixing pillows and rocking a chair...I spect she is part of the God contingent here in Bend, which sings out front of Bellatazza Cafe...I will post a photo I shot of the God continegent later.

I woke up at 7 this morning and joined a group of about 50 runners at Phil's Trail for a 9-mile run. The run was part of a training group for the Dirty Half marathon in June. I took it slow, listening to my mind which knew this was an early part of my training, and my body, which couldn't go faster than 10 minute pace. It took me about an hour-forty minutes to complete the 9 mile run, about an 11 minute pace.

My body aches from the run, but my mind is lucid.

After the run, I went to Columbia Park off the river, laid down a towel, and read a chapter from An Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, by Tom Wolfe. It tells the story of Oregon-native Ken Kesey, who lived the dream of drug-induced psychosis. I remembered that lifestyle, which is so far distant from my current life.

I tasted it briefly during the summer after my freshman year in college. I went back to Danville and hung around with a couple of high school friends, smoking pot, doing a little LSD and working as a camp counselor in a day camp in Orinda, California.

My two friends would later live that life to its fullest extent in San Francisco. I would forever remain a prisoner of the suburbs.

wqdewq

Read this morning about a 60-something year old man who got killed by a great white off the coast of San Diego while ocean swimming with a group of fellow triathletes. Not the way I'm sure he expected he would go. I would like to learn more about this man, doing what I would so like to be doing, as I walked outside for the first time in several months without feeling any cold.

Guess I can't move to California. Way too many sharks there.

I worked probably 60 hours this week, got paid for 50 of them, and now I have to wonder about whether I say the right things to get a raise.

It's all rigged against me, I tell you.

Woke up yesterday and got a speeding ticket about a half-mile from my driveway. In a school zone. Which doubly fucks up both my driving record and the amount of fine I will pay. The peach fuzzy cop looked kind of annoyed when I had the gall to ask him to show me the radar gun that said I was doing 40 in the 20.

He had to get somewhere, I think.


Watched Before the Devil Knows You're Dead last night. I've gotta say, one of the better movies I've seen in awhile. PSH, EH and Marisa Freakin Tomei showed a few things about acting, great script and directed by Sidney Lumet. It worked for me because of the interaction between siblings.

Each of the characters has a reason for doing what otherwise would be horrible acts against family members.

This morning my brother called at 8:15 a.m. just to leave a message that he had already rode his bike to Pilot Butte and run up to the top. He's going to have paternity leave! from his teaching job in a week and said he would be working out everyday sometimes twice! Good luck beating me in the Deschutes Dash, he said.

I am not interested in triathlon training, I thought to myself, still lying in bed on this glorious sun kissed day. I'm going to run tomorrow.

Message to self: Marisa Tomei. Thank you.