Late post. Full day. I’ve taken to loathing when people describe themselves as “crzy busy.” If it’s so crazy, then why not unbusy yourself? Or if it’s not crazy, why call it crazy? I don’t know. Maybe it’s 8:26pm and I’m just tired which means I’m irritable. 

Don’t ask me questions. Just go to bed. Even the nicest among you. 

It’s possible that the reason we fill each other up is a result of the law of individual brokenness: we’re all broken. In other words, I said something I shouldn’t have said for ten seconds of marriage because I get annoyed easily at night which is a flaw which crack which is brokenness which is …you get it. 

8 miles running hard in hilly switchback trails. 1:02.00. Murderous pain. Feels good. What does this say about my cognitive switchboard? The proximity of pleasure and pain. 

Devoured lunch. Mushroom burgers, spring mix salad with micro greens, rice, hummus, and sauerkraut. 

Devoured dinner. Greek yogurt, Ezekiel, raspberries, blackberries, flax, chia, shredded beets, almonds, cashews, apples. 

Tomorrow: research Curtis Stone and cooper cups to ionize water. 

Kate said. Then I said. Not exactly. But something like. Alt Dad Diary is a failure. Stopped growing. I said it’s okay. Not everything wins like bling. Some things win because you love them. Kate says ohh. What about your goal of followers. I shrug. 

You have to realize that some things don’t make sense except to the artist. 

There is no particularly compelling reason that I want to train for and run a marathon except the fact that I enjoy the confrontation with granite-grinding-teeth pain. My right now theory is that go go go gunk accumulates on the inside and you have to go head-to-head with your inner hell to scrape the plaque off. Feel awake again. 

But I did that today. Raced my hooves til legs locked with lactic acid. And I’m the same ornery writer that I was days ago. We lapse. Relapse. I’ve heard this one guy runs a marathon a day. 

Of the two baths I took today—cold and epsom hot— the cold was the better of the two. Miserable moment of entry but damn.