Running with the Devil

Started running again today, after a long hiatus. Despite the protests from every part of me (a faint cry emanated from the picturesque-but-desolate Islets of Langerhans: "But Lisa -- Project Runway is on!"), I soldiered out, baggy pants and iPod and all, into the spotty grey rain of Sunday, 3 p.m.

A nearly optimal-for-running 40 degrees greeted my sorry ass, and I ran to Rounder and back, sucking in the salty dust from the road the whole way. Sped along by early Van Halen, I felt strong and stony. I was distressed by the image of my heaving frame in the closed shop-windows. But the synth overload of "I'll Wait" carried me along.

As I crossed Route 16, it started to rain harder, but the cool drops felt good. Dylan's "Things Have Changed," that paean to middle-aged learned helplessness, provided the right loping beat to match my slowing pace.

How did I run the frigging Marathon? - it was only 5 years ago, but Liz and I look in the photos like little girls, shocked that we lived to tell the tale of our travels from Hopkinton to the Prudential Center that April morning. Big crocodile tears stain our smiles as the man takes down the 6:00:00 sign above us. On the bus ride home, the passengers smiled at me shyly as the mylar blanket I clutched around me made crinkling noises.

Paul Simon's "Rhythm of the Saints" takes me home, as the "Graceland" record did all those times before, from Brighton Center to Kenmore, to Cambridge and back. Can I do it again, with nothing to prove?

Old Grey Whistle Test

Brad picked up a DVD of Old Grey Whistle Test performances - the (apparently influential) BBC show in the 70s that featured an electic mix of artists performing album tracks (mostly) live. There's some great footage of people like Elton John, John Lennon, Alice Cooper, Bonnie Raitt, Emmylou Harris, Curtis Mayfield, and on and on, all when they were young and just coming up. It's wild - but tops for me is that crazy Edgar Winter, whose seven-minute freakout "Frankenstein" transcends all exegesis. The best part in a way is the presentation of each performance by the show's former hosts - unlike, say, Giuliana DiPandi, they actually know what they're talking about, and they like it, and they don't really look that good on TV, and I like that.

I like big butts and I can not lie.

So I got Sirius for my birthday. It's been a revelation in many ways. I had XM before, but the programming on Sirius is just better, and there's Howard Stern AND Martha Stewart, that unholy alliance. I learn about "inadequate wiping" as well as how to make lavender sachets, so it kind of comes out in the wash.

Anyway. I'm also learning all the embarrassing songs that I know ALL the words to. This is really disturbing stuff: Sir Mix-A-Lot's "Baby Got Back," George Clinton feat. Ice Cube's "Bop Gun," Ice Cube feat. Das EFX' "Check Yourself." (I used to have a rap show on my college radio station, listened to mainly by local 12-year-olds. This was before hip hop, when it was the sample-heavy p-funk rap of the early '90s.) Ok, so this isn't speaking to Sirius' excellence in programming, but my point is this: could've been quantum physics, maybe a cure for an unpleasant disease, but instead the world has "So ladies if the butt is round, and you want a triple-X throwdown, dial 1-900-MIXALOT and kick them nasty thoughts..."

Yeah, I feel kind of dirty, too.

Plugged in, unplugged, undone

So it's been a few days, what am I doing? Other than wrestling with my Dasein, you mean? Well, let's see, I got through the holidays, which were downright pleasant actually, and pretty mellow. I got a new PDA that allows me to check email from anywhere, which is paradoxically helping me keep a better balance. Call it a resolution or just resignation, but I'm vowing now to: 1. Try to leave at 5 or a little before. 2. Feel ok about doing that. 3. Check email periodically to feel that it's under control. 4. Be ok about things being only-just in control, not locked and loaded.

We'll see how that goes.