yeah - im an arsehole - doesn't really know anyone, no-one really knows me - lady-elle maybe - sam maybe - the laylaws perhaps - god and the trees and the wind and cool sunshine and waking up from sleep and that realisation that you are on the other side of the planet - something that was once something, but is now a right of passage - i have traveled across this vast and tiny little planet, but for my time being, for the while i was the past dying - i battle, dear fucking reader, i battle - how can such a silly little man with one thousand dollars find a way to travel this planet? - hence, yes, hence - i stand in the background and watch it pass - such a fucking weirdo, drinking alone, happy - yet somehow getting by, pushing through, seeing it on the other side
im not really sure what took me to running - some idiot would talk about my father running ten marathons - sure i ran as i littleton - as a youngling - i remember practicing ten kilometers from f/haven to olde eastern view and back, just to prove little s.laylaw could run the shit - and the little-one could - i remember thinking about daniel larusso and his "prep" for the all-valley championship - but the internet has taken all the glory away from that - anyway, it was fucking tough back then - damn, it was tough - i pushed through, never saying mercy to two older brothers and one awesome family dog
we wake up everyday, but every now and again we wake up married and loved in a daze and you look around yourself and think - im alive, right? - and why me? - how many people have died while ive spent my time drinking and talking shit about music or movies that are meant to mean something but always never get noticed ever at the right time - and therefore a little man like me, pretending he means something against the spewmantic writing of online-thoughts - of online thinking - where does that leave me? - listening to fucking cds blasted witha nasty neon screen that corrects my fast-s[elling before i even notice it - is this to impress me? - is this to make me a cheap-sell to some guy a couple of years below me in high-school who now wears a suit and buys cheap sushi-rolls and pretends we were friends twelve years ago?
i run like a mad-man - i think of manic-musicians, crazy-artists and super-cool movie stars everyone has forgotten - who will teach the children's children? - how do i get angry? - i can't really remember before i started running pathetic three kay-emm runs that i had top stop half-way through for - realising, hard, that man, maybe i aint so tough - but that's all it took readers and listeners - one realisation to change it all
i think about those northcote lonesome days - drinkin' and music - struggling with the writing, but pushing through it all - somehow - some fucking how
now - yeah, im alright - i run like a mad-man, but i run coool, smooth fast and fit - i see the sun shining when the boozer only sees it shining at his morning-wakeup-depression - some sort of lake that looks fucking amazing - i run around it a couple of times a week and i nod to the runners i pass by - damn they're doing better than me... at least i think so - maybe, maybe not - anyway, i nod to them all thanks to day-light-saving - the runners-nod - two men just pushing through and running for individual pain and pleasure, seeing one another and giving nothing but a nod as they pass a couple of seconds and share them together - soon to be forgotten
some guy - a fluro jacket - maybe he wore it because he rode a bike - maybe he wore it for work - maybe he wore it cos it was dark back then - anyway, i saw him sitting on that bench by the creek in blackburn often - quite often - just sitting there, taking a break from his ride home to smoke a cigarette or few by the trees - only to be bothered by the workers with the "proper gear" speeding by on their "hybrids" - or guys like me running or "power walking" -or guys like me, who take some fucking time to notice the same old man sittig there with his shit and smoking his smokes and sometimes smiling with his smoked-workingclass-honest-lonely-face
yeah, he's a lonely man - only sometimes he nodded back to my nods as i ran my ten-kay runs - id nod, and get nothing back - he'd nod, and id pretend to be too soaked up in my midnight-oil-stained-ipod running music
yeah, but i got back to almost my personal-best - some set backs for no good reason, but nothing stopped me - but now i see some guy riding his bike a couple of moves down from my running route - ringing bells! - sure, i'll wave - riinging bells again! - this time i'll pretend i dont notice - riiinging bells again! - thumbs up man, i hope you're well! - i run on - he rides on - two losers passing-by doing their best
lady-elle said "i thought you didn't like to get to know people" - or was it "i thought you weren't a people person" - i'm not - im nothing, and that makes me realise how i react to the nature of people, as opposed to their natural way of things...
my thoughts are not like yours - my life is hopefully not like yours either - you're only reading this fucking far because you've drunk enough, or smart enough, to realise weird isn't weird - quirky is fashionable and popular - eclectic is numb - communication is boring - cool is everything standing behind everything you think is cool - love is lost to the moviesoaked romantic, and struggling to life, questioned, to those alone on the beach thinking of their loved ones - music, love, life, truth is what you want it to be - not what some fucking tv show says it it, not what some fucking disposable movie says it is, not what your favourite character acts it out to be - and truth doesn't exist - nothing will last - trust everyone, and forgive them all at the same time
