Monday, August 09, 2004

So I again find myself in a bit of a funk. No big news there. I'm sure part of it has to do with my reverting back to my sedimentary lifestyle. I have an appointment to see a podiatrist on Friday, something I should have done at least a month ago. I imagine he'll tell me I can't run for a little while, but at least it will be a step back in the direction of running again, since I always seem to have a better outlook when I'm mobile. I suppose my funk is also partly due to a bit of malaise, not really having anything to do this week. Of course, I'll be in Vegas next week, so I have that going for me. I'm also in a funk due to an odd conversation I had today. One of those things that seems funny at the time, and then in the cold reflection of solitude, seems oddly tragic. Just one more thing to lump into the "wish that had stayed buried" file. But I won't bore you with my troubles. Who am I to complain, after all. I just started Johnny Cash's autobiography, and at least I didn't have a brother eviscerated by a table saw at the age of 14. And at least I'm not Fay Ray; I'd like to think that my obitiuary will not be met by a nation exclaiming, "You mean he didn't die decades ago?"

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