A couple of random thoughts came to me as I ran and (mostly) walked the hills of West Central Austin last week:
I'm a bit like the man who beats his dog on Friday night, then wakes up on Saturday morning and feeds the dog fillet mignon, cooing to him sweetly. I've got to decide whether I'm going to be good to my body or bad to it. It's difficult, and pointless really, to do both.
The calico cat was back on her perch atop a utility access box on the corner of West 7th Street and Blanco. Every time I came around that corner, panting and sweating, that cat looked at me with what I perceived to be a smirk. It was almost as if she were shaking her head, thinking, "God, what fools these humans are. Look at this one, running. On purpose, and with no dog chasing behind him."
Another thought, while driving home.
Sunrise on MoPac
Sometimes, sailing through the
nascent landscape, as violet
night gives way to fiery morn,
I shake my head at the sight
of so many others, just
like me, their headlights tearing
bright shards in the window of
the day. I'm that time
traveller my father imagined,
dropped suddenly into today,
from a time when horses
were the mode. Unreal,
I think to myself.
Could so much fantasy
have really become so
real?
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