a/c in car broken. stopped at light. rant.

Just used Apple pay at Aldi. Cashews beef jerky and feta cheese. First time using fingerprint to transfer dollar bills. Fascinating bio-monetary experience. Touch to pay.


Leaving Milledgeville in less than 72 hours. Mixed feelings. But isn’t everything mixed feelings when you really think about it?


It’s hot as fuck outside. I ran a 5K today. 17 minutes and 56 seconds. Which isn’t that fast necessarily put it’s as fast or faster than I was in high school which is interesting. Faster at 31 that at 16. 


I decided to switch between caffeinated coffee and decaf coffee on a week by week or purchase by purchase basis. This way I don’t get the jitters or tolerance. Plus i’s not the caffeine that’s hyper beneficial, it’s the antioxidants. 


My sister and I were talking about the MFA program and what I learned and who I learned it from and if I would do it over again and why. 


We put a lot of things into boxes today. 


The boxes came from the rolling carts behind Dollar General. I don’t know if you’re supposed to take the boxes out of there or if they get money for saving them. 


This is random but everything is random and I have too much ADD which means too much energy to follow single train of thought. Here. Not this year, but the two years before that I walked to school and passed this shitty house and then one day the guy was working on it and I asked him what he was doing and he said fixing it up to rent and I said okay and he said are you interested and I said no. And then he showed me the inside. It looked nice. I said it looks nice. He said do you want to rent. I again said no. And said I had to go. He said good evening. He kept working on the house and it looked nice even on the outside. Then we moved and I never passed that house anymore. But then a few weeks ago Kate comes in from driving somewhere and said she passed the house and it’s gone, and in it’s place is a big stack of student housing with a pool and gate and parking lot. Bulldozed over for luxury living student dorms. What I said. Yeah she said. So the other night I drove to look at it and I was tired and exhausted and low on vital energy and sure enough it was student housing and I slowed and braked and stopped and stared and then turned right and kept on driving and it made me feel deflated inside not really deflated like watching a sad movie about war or something but just a little deflated but also a little happy like finally external destruction in the world matches my inner destruction. Does that sound morbid? Does that sound like I have a mental health issue? What why? It just comes out that way you know what I mean? When you read it on paper it’s like damn. But when it comes out it’s just like what it is and if a shrink asked me if I was happy I’d say yeah I’m pretty fucking happy how are you?


The air-conditioning is blasting it’s still not cool. 


Regular gasoline is 271 nine. Which I guess means to 272. Why do they round up. What bull but I guess life is full of bullshit and you should get used to it. Maybe that doesn’t bother you maybe don’t even pay attention to a gasoline cost. 


I’m thinking about converting Thanksgiving to a fasting day actually converting all of December into a fasting month. Just kicking off the month with Thanksgiving. Makes things easy. No shopping list. No leftovers. No clean up. No food coma. 


Gve me a list of seven ways in which America is right. About anything. 


Make America Great Again implies that there is a period in which America was great in order for it to be great again I’m wondering when this period is so I can research it. 


My sister says my personality type is argue or or questions authority. She says this is why Kate and I bicker because I question everything she says.

8ml droplet of insanity

Guinness pancakes with fried eggs and reishi mushroom coffee. For breakfast. 


Kate was up last night with liquid bowels. Which meant the baby was roaring because she’s used to Kate on demand. I googled instant relief diarrhea. Rubbed peppermint essential oil on her belly. Then drank warm water with apple cider vinegar. This morning took activated charcoal. Said it’s better. 


I’m leaning leaning leaning toward a new career in plant medicine. It seems smart. We have this human skin and this skeleton of bones and we might as well learn how to heal ourselves. Or before that: a good bout of Traditional Chinese Medicine to learn WHAT THE BODY IS. 


They have egg boxes for moving at Food Depot. I feel tired. 5k race tomorrow. Moving to Minnesota in 3 days. 


I don’t like saying goodbye. I prefer see you later or I’ll be in touch. The finality scares me. This is what I messaged the owner of the yoga studio. Said I’d leave the key under a bush. 


You can imagine. An entirely unearthly perspective. Wrinkling their noses at the earth’s abject poverty. How 6 people hold 96% of the wealth. Or whatever it is. Work is a virtue. So is hard fuck harvest harvest harvest heave heave heave hard work. But the qi gong Taoists are right: everything in balance. Yin and yang. Mimicking nature. Summer heat. Winter cool. My question. Or statement. The US post-industrial capital paradigm isn’t balanced. So why should I feel tethered by it? I’m not being clear. I’m being defensive about not having a job. Even though I went to college, and then law school, and then graduate school. It would appear that I could get a job. I have that capability. But I’m choosing unemployment. 


Which is true. I’m making a choice not to work for XYZ Corp. Just like I made a choice to go to the University of Wyoming College of Law from 2009-2012. 


My mentor told me about a book called THE DANGLING MAN. The guy on YouTube named Robert Peng talks about lightness in movement. I feel like I’m surfing wind gusts of interest. The wind is never blowing consistently. Waxes and wanes, you know? Gets interrupted. Burned by the sun. Massaged by the moon. 


The baby just woke up from her morning nap. Even though it’s afternoon. The kitchen has yet to be packed. By far the most used room in the house. 


Anybody use kratom for pain? Anybody practice qi gong regularly? 


Here’s where I feel the truth of things poking through. 


I run these rolling trails through humid gnat woods. I wear barefoot shoes which inflame my plantar fascia. My bad. My mistake, I learn. I wear this watch to track miles. Pride, ambition, mind mind mind. Running in the woods, you get very deep in the fabric of JUST BEING. Of course I’m still radiating with the wifi electro-magnetic frequency so I can’t sense anything fully, it’s all ADD bits and pieces, but still I can sense that something otherworldly come is immersing me, swallowing me, pulling me in like the signs at the ocean say: WARNING: RIPTIDE. 


I think this current runs very much contrary to THE CURRENT CAPITALIST SYSTEM. 


Kate says I talk so much. We wake up and sit in our green lawn chairs in the kitchen and put our fork into our runny egg yolk tops and I talk talk talk about nutrition and health and spirituality like I have Aspergers. Kate says it’s not Aspergers. And I say it’s a spectrum and we go round and round about the prices of weddings and the cost of living in society and whether we can find land in Canada. 


I’m insane. 


I order and return on Amazon. 


You can’t take the money with you you fucking fool. 


Ry every time you swear you lose a reader. 


There are no readers Ry. 


There are just people. 


The people are like Ellie. They’re just crawling up on the shelf. Looking to turn off the wifi. 


Or everything everyone all the things are a projection. 


I didn’t gratitude journal. 


Research says regular journaling is detrimental because it’s rumination and reinforcing old thought patterns and really what you need to do is gratitude journals. 


I’m grateful for Ellie’s smile and even Kate’s diarrhea because I got to show love to someone and make tea at 10:27 pm even thought that’s when we’re supposed to be sleeping and I’m grateful for the last can of Guinness that nobody wanted to drink for the last 9 months since Kevin came and we had it for him, because it made the best pancakes and I’m grateful for our uncle Mike in Pallatine, IL and his alien head interests swimming through ether like mine, and I’m grateful for the lakes in MN and the soon swimming with my old man and I’m grateful for pains in my left foot too because like Steven Tyler says on the Joe Rogan podcast, you gotta love the hell too. 




Driving. I pass two kids in a front yard throwing a baseball back-and-forth. One of them wearing a complete head-to-tie uniform: blue hat, orange shirt, stripes baseball pants, knee-high socks and cleats. The other kid chasing the ball and wearing raggamuffin whatever clothes: a neon shirt and shorts. This is the scene from my childhood. Over and over again. I’m the kid in the regular clothes. What does it mean to be the kid in the regular clothes? 


I’m walking on a dirt path in the woods. 


I’m not present. 


I’m writing. 


Look at the leaves, Rumpa. 


We look at the leaves. 


Look at the leaves, Rumpy.


And then I write about looking at the leaves. 


This is life as a writer. Like Instagramming every plate of food, except 2D.


If I had more money, I’d buy an earthing mat. Which is ironic because tipi people wouldn’t need to buy an earthing May. More money, more problems. 


Apparently I transitioned too quickly into barefoot shoes. Plantar fascia is fucked. Today’s run was a slog. Slog god help me jog.


On the drive back from woods. Kids playing baseball in the front yard are gone. Damn the birds have done a number on that that deer. It’s just bone and skin. Just since this morning.


Don’t forget. Follow up on MNSure. Health care and foos stamps. We now have zero income. Someone said these public funds aren’t meant for you. They’re meant for people who really can’t get jobs. Not just entitled highly educated who choose not to get jobs. 


I don’t know how to respond. 


I haven’t messaged but I found someone who takes herbal apprentices. Also applied for a mushroom cultivation internship.


Why does the iPhone autocorrect internship to “obey ethanol”?


I feel like I’ve become (and love the fact that I’ve become) a research machine that just BASE jumps down rabbit holes: essential oil diffusers and qi gong and vape pens and Paul Chek.


Does anyone know vape pens that don’t leech heavy metals? Does anyone vape essential oils? 


Apparently one drop of essential peppermint oil is the equivalent of 19 cups of peppermint tea. 


Did you know that. 


I closed my eyes today and felt my right palm pressing against my left and I saw the two sides of the universe merge together and create a light like a dawn. 


I’m returning the stainless steel water bottle I bought from Amazon for 18.99. I can use an empty Braggs ACV jar or empty ghee jar or wait for rain and open my mouth. 

iPhone 6 battery drains so damn fast. What a metaphor for daily energy levels. First world problems yeah yeah don’t care.

“XT” on the calendar means cross training. 30 min yoga, 30 spin, 20 lift, 20 swim. Listened to podcast on qi gong and subtle energy. Years ago, during high school swimming, I swam so many yards my shoulder jointed clacked audibly underwater. From his daily reports, my dad is logging two-a-days in Lake Harriet. Is the bad habit of overtraining genetic?

The qi gong guys name is Robert Peck. I can see the stringy plantar fascial tendon on my fight, right as a guitar string.

The baby and I took a hot Epsom salt bath last night. I think it’s fine to train hard as stone against stone. Pound and grind. But I think I need to rest hard too. Nap. Bathe. Deep stretching sessions. Like 90 minutes. Deep meditation sessions. Channel and concentrate vital energy. 

Kate’s slowing down on Time Restricted Eating. For the past few weeks, she’d fast from 5pm to noon. Or 5pm to 11am. Today I got back from swimming and yoga at 9am and we had breakfast together. Which was nice. Yogurt, cashews, Ezekiel, apples. For her. For me: 3 overeasy eggs with sautéed broccoli. Top with sea salt, black pepper, olive oil, liquid aminos and nutritional yeast. A second course of Greek yogurt. A third of goats milk and sprouted cereal. 

Am I channeling positivity?

In words that match the speed of my 15mph brainwave pace: I’m feeling sad today. Low energy melancholy. Probably many causes. I have had an unproductive cough the last few nights and consequently haven’t been sleeping well. I tried gargling salt water, and honey, and tea, and thumping my chest. I think it’s probably stress, anticipating the move. I also joined a soccer team and I’m a bit rusty on soccer. Not being the best makes me nervous. I also want to join the soccer team Kate and my brother in law to be plays on but he says they don’t need guys. And I’m nervous anxious sad about that. The qi guy would say my energy needs centering. 

My swim felt sluggish. Morning coffee always feels like flicking the lights on. 

The tendon on the bottom of my left foot is popping out. I feel like it’s always been like this, just never hurt throbbed radiates. I’m researching plantar fasciitis and making lists of exercises and techniques and causes. The doctors on YouTube all say orthotics. Hmmmm. I’ll do the stretches and the toe scrunches and the massaging and the lacrosse ball rolls. No orthotics. It’s good to have injuries and ailments, I think. Harvests humility, patience. 

While spinning on the gym resistance cycle at 7:12am, I listened to Ben Greenfield interview Robert Peng about qi gong. Interesting stuff. Draw your energy to your foot, I tell myself. Let your qi swamp there. Let the body heal itself. 

Kate wrote yesterday. First time I haven’t posted in almost a year. Felt good to listen instead of habitual sing song la la la. Felt good for her to enter “my space.” Damn she can write, too. Especially toward the end of the post. The censorship stops and it’s just freestyling. I like that. 

Plantar Fascia therapy: cross fiber friction calf/achilles/plantar fascia, scrunch towel with foot (alternatively try to pick up a pencil between toes and ball mound), walk on tip toes, point toes/flex toes, roll foot on lacrosse ball, foam roll hamstrings and calf. 

Planning the Penske truck route home. My uncle Mike and aunt Sheila are stationed in Palatine IL for some work thing. They’re at the Holiday Inn. Mike says the Motel 6 cross the street is shit. That’s where I want to stay. For $46. And pet friendly. From Google Earth photos, it looks fine. 

I’m hungry. 12:57pm. 

Mmmm. Watermelon, sunflower seeds, pistachios, can of carbonated water with balsamic vinegar.


Being a Mom is awesome. It is easily the best thing I have done in my life and let me tell you I have done a lot of things. It's as fun as traveling Western Europe with my boyfriend. Actually it's more fun than that because we were terrible for each other and fought all the time and that made traveling not so enjoyable, until I'd had enough and got up the courage to travel on my own, then it became fun, but this is more fun even than that. What makes it fun? Well I not only have Ry as my live-in best friend but I have EllieRoo too, and she really loves me. Whenever I come home from being somewhere she crawls right over to greet me and give me a hug. It's not always enjoyable but she loves me so much, she will actively cry if she can't get to me for some reason. It's a kind of love I think you can only feel once you have a child. 


It's also the hardest thing I've ever done. Everything I do revolves around the baby. For example, we are training for a marathon. (Got to have something to train for to stay healthy and loose the baby weight.) I can't get up too early because the baby nurses in the morning before she gets up. I can't run at night because the baby does not do well if I'm not around in the evenings especially after 7pm. So my window of opportunity before it gets ungodly hot is 9-10:30, in between Ellie waking up and taking a morning nap. Today I left the house at 9 to do 10x400 meter sprints with a 400 meter jog in between every sprint. I told myself I would run it in a 1:48 or less pace and I stuck to it. Fastest was 1:38, slowest 1:48. Then I finished it off with 6 sets of stairs (3x hitting every stair, 3x every other) with jump squats, sliders, and jumping lunges in between every set. When I got home Ry was on the phone with the Medicare office and the baby started screaming because she saw me and needed to nurse and take a nap. My shower was so quick that even the few minutes under the freezing cold water didn't stop me from still sweating when I got out and started nursing the baby so she would stop crying and take a nap. Ry left to go teach like he does every week day morning. 


What do I do while the baby is napping? Usually I check my work email. Write emails, reply, schedule appointments with soccer players and what not. Computer work that can't be done when she is awake because 1) it's not good to be on devices while she is awake and 2) she wants everything thing that I have, so if it's my phone she takes it, if it's the computer she pounds on the keys and wants to type too. It makes work impossible. Today I looked further into schools for myself. I'm thinking about going back again. Why? Why not? More education, more money, more job opportunities. Hopefully, right. Jobs are hard to come by in MN. We have both been applying. Me, not as much as Ry, but there haven't been as many that are ones I want or am qualified for. For instance. A D3 college wants you to have a PhD to be the head coach of the Women's team. Come on! A PhD, really? I looked up some other head coaches at other colleges in the area though and what did I find? And yep it's true, several have a PhD. Anyways jobs. My dad thinks we can't find them because of our last name, Loveeachother. He says he doesn't want to get in our business but we might want to think about changing it to McLaughlin, Ry's former last name. I'm not opposed either way. I like Loveeachother. I also like McLaughlin. I never really loved Kraus, it's too harsh, German. I used to always wish we could have my moms maiden name, Danna. It's Italian, or her Mother's maiden name, Hepburn, like Katherine, it's Irish. Anyways, if it's the last name that's the cause of why we're not getting jobs then I guess I say fuck em. I don't really want your job anyways. No seriously, really I do want the job, just call me whatever you want. 


Baby is up. Finally I get to eat, or start to put something together. Time restricted eating isn't hard for me because it's usually 11 by the time I even start to think about eating, then it takes another hour to get the meal put together because EllieRoo needs to eat first and then she want me to pick her up, and then the dog wants to go out, and then the dog wants to come in, and so on and so forth.


Breakfast is a diced up honey crisp apple, 3 prunes, a few cashews and almonds, what little greek yogurt Ry has left me, topped off with sprouted grain Ezekiel granola. Yum. We are supposed to be cutting out yogurt, but the baby loves it so I buy it for her and then Ry can't help himself he eats it all. And well if he can eat it then why can't I? This is my first time in a week, so I've done real good, after all, last week I was eating it every day so once a week is great, right?


Ry's home from teaching. Time to switch out. It's my last week of work at Georgia Military College. I will miss my soccer players. This has been my favorite job I have had in the United States by far. I can only hope I get another one like it. 


Well this was fun. Maybe I'll do it again sometime, if y'all liked it. No promises though.

hope = goat's milk in black coffee

Somebody gimme a damnnnn job. 


Said somebody on Facebook. I’m not even friends with this girl. Like I’m FB friends. But I’ve never met her. Saw her art hanging in the coffeeshop. Dope stuff. Hit Add Friend. 


Lol. I hear you, girl.


Driving down the street to the yoga studio before a thai massage. It’s hot as hell. 90-something. Too hot for thoughts to remain singular. They all melt together like chocolates in a box.


I’ve applied to soooo many jobs and have heard from nooooo jobs and thinking in the car at the red light, I don’t really want any of them. I think the universe knows this and it’s therefore doing me a favor. Like yeah “pls pls pls somebody gimme a damn job.” Substitute teaching or real teaching. High school or college. Adult learners or whatever. English or whatever. 


But at the same time, honestly, I don’t want any of the jobs that are out there, except to make obligatory payments on student loans and what not. 


I’m researching plantar fascia and melatonin efficacy or if it’s just placebo (its just placebo) and watching Curtis Stone on Youtube talk to me about high value micro greens and how you can convert and urban plot into a high yielding garden and I’m researching researching researching and I’m so damn fascinated. So it’s not the case that millennials like me are unmotivated or slugs without interest, we have interest and motivation. In fact that’s the face of the problem. We don’t want to work these deadface jobs where you soul sell soul sell soul sell bullshit bullshit bullshit. 


Every job description and application is the same. All I see is bullshit bullshit bullshit. 


The collapse in 2008, Trump now, it’s all agh. I’m not getting into a soapbox about the state of affairs. But I do want to make the existential point that I think maybe the universe fabric is smart nano-fiber and its like nah Ryan we’re saving you for something beyond bullshit, so kick it into DIY gear and make something happen because no one is going to do it for you. 




Tomorrow’s run is a track workout. 10x400 around a track. At 5k pace. Which is 1:15 for me. 


The baby is playing on the floor with the tool box. Which means the hammer and the pliers and the bike pump and the level and the hex set and the wrenches. I use the wrenches to scrape the fascia along my foot and calves and thighs like the anti-itis Youtube video said. 


Scrape the fascia. 


I’m looking for the best comprehensive multi-modal alternative medicine book. Also holistic nutrition science. Also want to join a MN running club. And apprentice and herbalist and horticulturalist. Specifically hemp. Also mushrooms. Any kind. 



Dear Mom,


1. I’m sorry I didn’t want to take pictures before my high school graduation and was an asshole and made you cry. I still think about it.


2. I’m thinking about writing a book called “WHY I RAISED MY DAUGHTER LIKE AN AMISH KID” because we take EllieRoo to the beach in a full body UV suit and I listen to podcasts on how cell phone radiation is carcinogenic and how we should all at least be wearing EMF-free underwear.


3. I called Grandma today and she said she was happy to hear from me and I was happy to her too because she sounds like you but also best because she’s before you and still you.


4. I did my long run today which means I ran 9 miles after doing 10x300meter hills and when I got home my left heel was numb and tingly so I googled it and it’s a surefire sign of plantar fascitis which blows because I have a numb heel but I guess it’s life, there’s always something, so know I am standing on the mallet end of a hammer, pressing pressure points, and I rolled my calves out with the calf roller and I applied and rubbed and pressed and circled my toes and ankles with olive oil and turmeric oil which is supposed to help with inflammation and I googled more exercises and I looked on Amazon for these fascia blaster products and everything will come together. And if it doesn’t, I’ll switch sports and get obsessed with something else. And it’ll go on like this for a very long time.


5. How are you? How is your garden? What are you growing? Why were you fascinated by flowers instead of vegetables? Flowers seem so impractical, no?


6. Grandma said, at the end of our conversation, I love you very much Ryan and I said I love you too Grandma. You know I would have called you today mom and said those words, or maybe I would have lived close enough to see you, and I could have looked you in the eyes and said those words. I wonder if you know I’m writing this now. I very much hope so.


7. You would really like EllieRoo. She’s a hoot, watching her scoot her naked bum across the floor, and those blue eyes, and the way she pees in clear little puddles.


8. I’m training for a marathon because it’s important to set goals, to keep moving, to have something ahead to keep getting out of bed.


9. If you were alive I would ask you if you wanted to start a business together. An urban farming venture of some kind. I wouldn’t ask because I needed money. I’d ask because I think it would be something cool that we could do together and because you’re maybe the only person more type A than me, so we could do graphs and spreadsheets and plans and we could execute, execute, execute. I’ve never worked well with others in group projects or business ventures or art expeditions but I bet I could work with you because you taught me to do lists and I’m all about to do lists and organize organize organize. We could grow mushrooms. We could also grow cannabis and use it for CBD oil which is legal. We’d probably disagree about the risks and rewards of growing cannabis for non-CBD purposes so I’ll let that go. While I’m ahead of the game, as you would say.


10. I really think you did a fucking fantastic job as a mother. I don’t know if I’ve ever said that to you. But you really were stand out. I think Kate is doing a fucking fantastic job, and I have a different perspective, a more WOW I”M HERE perspective, but I was there for you too, just in a different way. It’s rare resisting shipping your kids off to day care, even though a lot of good people to that, I can’t understand why people would have kids just to ship them off to day care, it seems odd to me, but that’s just me, and you never did that, and you gave a damn about us through and through, probably too much, and I get that too, and I also get that a parent really can’t care too much, even though I see the dangers of me caring too much and getting so hyper protective that it stresses me and everyone else out.


11. I don’t know what else to say. I don’t believe in God or heaven or hell or bullshit like that but I really do hope that in some way shape or form I can meet and talk to you again. I fucking hope that maybe more than anything else on this goddamn planet.



Foolishness of Young Love

One marathon training book says run less but run fast, the other marathon training book says slower longer steadier with walk breaks. The first one has track workouts, tempo, and longer distances at race pace. The second one just proscribes daily run times and off days. I read the run less run fast book last night. I haven’t done any track workouts yet. But seems like a good idea. Stay sharp. I’m going to make myself a day-by-day hybrid training model that includes elements of both programs. 


Eat to win. Breakfast and dinner. Salad both times. Kale, lettuce, shredded carrots and beets, onion, bell peppers, broccoli sprouts, nutritional yeast, habanero salsa, sea salt, black pepper, and fried eggs. They say salvation is only found in Jesus. Eat that salad with chopsticks and you’ll feel full to the brim. If not, add a can of carbonated water and add a splash of balsamic vinegar. Mmmm lord. 


8-9 mile run with hill play. That’s tomorrow morning. Going to wake up before the sun. Or with the sun maybe I don’t know. I’m going to try to keep the pace around 7:30-7-45. Which assumes a 7-minute-mile pace for a marathon. Which is a big stretch. But the peak race is in October so there’s time. 


I scheduled the last day with GA Power. And also marked my calendar with the day to return the wireless router from Spectrum. 


Last night I took a shower and afterward I took the running calendar underneath a magnet on the frig and furiously wrote my shower thoughts, which were sprinting away like the steam when the bathroom door is opened. I wrote: 


There’s so much fucking noise in my head. There’s never silence. 

The shower is a sacred space but I only shower here once every two weeks. Otherwise it’s the college pool showers. And that’s the morning, and I’m in a hurry to get back to the house so I can get coffee and so I can get the car to Kate so she can go to her workout class. Even in the pool shower my mind is very loud. I look at the blue shampoo and think about all the toxic shit that’s inside the shampoo and I wonder whether I should just use it anyway, whether it’s any worse than the chlorine in my hair or on my skin. I say on like my skin is non-porous. 


Go go go go. Plastic plastic plastic. 


I swam in Lake Sinclair this morning. Very smooth this morning. Talked with my writing mentor professor friend about this book he likes called The Dangling Man. It’s about a man who has been drafted and has a month or something left and is applying for jobs in the meantime and nobody will hire him, so he’s just dangling around in limbo. I nodded my head and said I feel like The Floating Man. My professor said what do you mean? I said that’s this generation, the millennials and generation z. We’re just here. Waiting. Watching Netflix, waiting for something to happen. Like something good to happen. Or even something bad to happen. Anything substantial to happen so that we can stake our lives to something. The birds have migration. The bears have hibernation. What do we have? 


That’s why the marathon training program matters and the salad and the CBD oil (which I received and have been experimenting with). I got it for muscle soreness and aches but also for sleep. After n=2 night trial, it does not work for sleeping. Even if the melatonin has been scientifically shown to be mostly placebo, I sleep better with 10mg of placebo. 


Marriage and love become beautiful things but it’s impossible to realize this walking down the aisle because you’re so fucking young and you don’t know the ups and downs and in hindsight it’s kind of funny because all of life becomes like that to the old wise person, but then again, the jokes on them too, not just us young folks because they’re knocking on heaven’s door and there time is almost up, so the wisdom isn’t worth very much. At least not to them. 


I want to start writing poems. Or something creative. Not just creative. But focused. Like a book of poems. Or start political poems. Or start a fiction project. Something to focus on. Sink my teeth into. At the Farmer’s Market today Kate bought beef jerky and it’s like $197 at the farmers market because that’s how much everything is that’s organic and grass fed and I had a heart attack but I recovered and put the jerky and strawberries and cilantro and garlic chives in the refrigerator and then a few minutes ago I took the jerky out and had a piece for dessert and Kate said you like the jerky enough to have a piece for dessert and yet you would have never purchased some for yourself? Correct I said. 


This is the foolishness of the young. Death would look back and shake his head with disapproval. 


sore throat

We’re all just here. Do you ever get inadequate sleep at night, have a no-coffee morning and stare at the black face of the kitchen oven and think “we’re all just here.” Like this rock in space spinning. Doing stuff is of no consequence except to ourselves. Small ego dust mind. 


The baby will walk soon. I’ve caught glimpses of her standing, no hands. 


Look. Listen. Run. 


The green lawn chair in the kitchen is all that’s keeping me off the ground. Tomorrow the running calendar says OFF. The next day is a long run. Kate said it’s nice to be training for something. More nutritional yeast. More baths. Add in Epsom salt. 


Today is graduation but you have to pay for the cape and pay to walk across the stage. I’ll spend the money elsewhere. We’re buying food grade stainless steel water bottles. No more plastic. Even if it says BPA free, studies show that toxins leech into the water. 


China spits in the US drinking water. 


Running first thing in the morning is stiff and ugh and I feel old and oh bend down and the knees crack. The Merrell gloves mean my feet can feel the roots rocks and ooh, like tiptoeing on coals. The Altra shoes said yesterday was guaranteed delivery on Amazon. But yesterday came and went and still no shoes. Guarantees just aren’t what they used to be. 


The beets are sitting on the counter. Pale colored. A curious cross between apple red and pumpkin orange. 


I still have that tattoo that I want to give myself. Left bicep. Red line. Orange triangle. Something weird and non contextual. 


I’m going to start a poetry project soon. In the spirit of projects increase productivity and the feeling of purpose. 


I keep googling jobs. Adult education. Alternative school. Substitute teaching. Herbal apprentice. Paid. Okay unpaid. How do you grow your own mushrooms? How do you buy land? 


The broccoli sprouts I started watering three days ago will be ready to eat tonight. There is just eating and sleeping and running. Kate and I are going to record a podcast soon. Maybe today. That would be fun. Stay tuned for that. And I’m working on other projects. Books. Ballistic books. Not regular blah blah bedtime bam books. But really banging bullshit with bump book book. 


The existential crisis continues. The CBD oil didn’t put me to sleep like I thought. In fact I think it kept me up. I took 7 more droplets. Thoughts winding like a spool of thread that’s dropped on the fake wood floor, winding all over the damn place. 


I want to thank the few of you for reading. The few the proud the elite. 


This one woman Abby Martin on the Joe Rogan podcast keeps repeating herself: America The Empire America The Empire. Joes like well what do you want the US to do? And Abby’s like NOTHING. Just do NOTHING. 


I don’t know why I said. I mean wrote that. 


I should call Grandma and tell her thank you for having us. 


Six deep breaths to reset. Six. That’s the minimum. Studies show. 


In bed last night. Air temp 64 degrees. Lights out. 8:34pm. I close my eyes and think think think. I spend so much time rush rush rushing. You know what I mean. Rush rush rushing. Not like a running back in the NFL. For yards or carries or whatever but doing thinking podcasting writing fermenting sprouting studying walking running cooking swimming yoga shipping shoes buying fit bit’s selling fit bits. All these things these thoughts these molecules in my head hacking happiness and such ahhh. I forget to just be grateful, forget to just take a breath. Huuuhhhhhhh. 


In bed last night. I close my eyes and think think think I NEED TO SLOW THE FUCK DOWN AND BE GRATEFUL. I tossed and turned. Melatonin not working. Damn this is important I should get up and write this down because I know if I don’t zip zip zap the bong bang bosch it’d be lost and I wouldn’t remember while my brain was consolidating and connecting and creating content. For writers it’s a content craze. Content content content. 


Are you content?


I tried to create a pneumonic for the word gratitude so that I could remember in the morning and to that end I figured if gratitude had 10 letters I could remember but it only has 9 letters. Gratitude gratitude gratitude. For being here gratitude, mom stepmom grandma gratitude. What else was going through my mind? Is The Alt Dad filled with this freneticism? Or is it chill vibes me like a monk wish wish wishing y’all well and holy peace. I wondered about the energy I was putting out like whether when I sat down to write good vibes going through my head. Magic moments of mystery or blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. Monk mission or no real intention, just vomit my inner viciousness on the page. 


In bed. I think intention matters. 


Certain softeness be gentle be sweet because find the present. 


Sound like a load of abstract laundry detergent like Seventh Generation that says plant based and earth friendly but has the same unpronounceable bullshit like coco propyl butane hydroxy whatever.


I was reading The Power of Now by Eckhart tolle. That’s a lie. Not reading, just staring at the sentence, like you do when you’re ta tired, eyes on the sentence like it’s skip stuck in repeat. 


Now I can’t find the sentence so maybe I was imagining it. But this one’s good. It’s funny. How I can’t find the sentence now. 


“The Buddha taught that even your happiness is dukkha — a Pali word meaning “suffering” or “unsatisfactoriness.” It is inseparable from its opposite. This means that your happiness and unhappiness are in fact one. Only the illusion of time separates them.” 


How is happiness suffering? Well, I get pleasure running hills in 93 degree weather. My muscles hurt, the dog is thirsty, my feet hurt, my head hurts, my tongue hurts, but all the hurt vague aches into a semi automatic feeling of pleasure, but not quite. Just like sitting on the couch with my feet up is pleasurable, but it’s also mushy lazy uncomfortable. There’s this symbiotic yin yang of pleasure and discomfort in everything isn’t there? 


I can’t remember the passage and it’s a good thing and a bad thing, it’s both.