When I Wrote Rants Like This….
politics - Comments Off - Posted on May, 2 at 12:30 pm…people suggested I might be psychotic:
Hey- Clive Crook- how has austerity hurt you? Wait? What? Your Roth and 401 and other investments are doing fine because the market is through the roof? While worker’s wages are crashing and the rest of the population is now basically reduced to slave labor? And while your dickhead Republican friends are looking at those people making minimum wage or less, and deciding the real place for budget cuts is to food stamps and welfare while we talk about fucking medicare patients, slash medicaid, and now the scumbags who put us in this mess are gunning for Pete Peterson’s social security slashing. Remember when we had a social security surplus, and C+ Augustus gave it away to the Koch brothers and Richie Rich while expanding a give out to pharm companies, excuse me, I mean expanding Medicare but not allowing for competitive bids. Nothing is going to change until Clive Crook and his asshole friends are gutted in the streets like something you see in the movies. Fuck them. Fuck them all. In case I was not clear- FUCK THEM ALL.Not that Mr. Cole is wrong. He’s not, and frankly the day that the aptly named Clive Crook is butchered by an angry mob, I want to be the one who forces him to look at his own disemboweled intestines as he bleeds out. Bu the above is what writing too much about politics will do to you. This Sunday, May 5, I will be running my first official race: the 2013 Broad Street Run. As you can imagine, I’m looking forward to this, although I am not exactly looking forward to getting up before 5:00 AM or heading out into the early morning chill in nothing more than running shorts and a short sleeved shirt. I’m in the grey corral, based on an anticipated time of 1:30-1:40. I’m going to try to beat this time, although I have never really timed myself, or tried to measure my time or my pace. I run for the same reasons my friend Moura does:
I do not know my average. I do not keep a log. I cannot tell you my race times. Sometimes I am fast. Sometimes I am slow. But I run. I sweat. I do not mist. I run in the cold, in the heat, in the rain, in the snow. (But not in the ice—I draw the line at ice.) I run injured, healthy, hung-over, busy, bored, tired, heartbroken, in love, in failure, and in success… I am a runner. It was not the achievement that was important. It was the doing. It was the running. It was the verb… [I] run because I want to run for the rest of my life. I run because life is sometimes hard, and running makes me strong. Running makes it easier. But in order to run, you must keep on running. It’s all about the verb.I’ve been on tour quite a bit lately, and only able to pull off brief runs of 3-5 miles, and often I haven’t had the time for even that. But I’ve plugged away to the extent that I can. But on returning to Philly this weekend, and knowing I had a race in front of me and no tour on the horizon, I’ve gotten back into the swing of things. 11.5 miles on Monday, and another 4 on Tuesday. I’m taking today off and hitting the bricks again Thursday and Friday for another long and short. Because like the song goes, “We don’t know when to stop.”
Philadelphia, crime, guns - Comments Off - Posted on April, 29 at 1:07 pmOne of my regular reads is Philadelphia Gun Crisis, a photojournalism blog that reports on the rampant, spine-curdling gun violence in our city. To my mind, guns are the worst kind of weapons when used in crime. Not because they are more effective than a knife or a club when killing a person (although they are), but because the odds that other people will get killed as well are exponentially higher. You always read about how some poor child or little old lady got mowed down or paralyzed because the bullet missed its intended target and wound up flying through a window or door. The sheer ease with which guns can be used is also troubling: if you want to kill someone with a knife or a club, you have to get in pretty close. With a gun, you just have to pull it out and pop pop pop, there’s a body on the ground. Every Sunday, Gun Crisis publishes its Week in Review. Each headline is a link: this week saw an arrest for a double homicide in Kensington, a 10 year old wanted for mugging people with a toy gun, a man with four bullets in his head, an eight year old child witness to a different double homicide in Kensington (this one is particularly hideous), and several more, including a man shot dead and discovered n a burning house a few blocks from where I live. There is a lot to love about Philadelphia, a tough city with a lot of heart. But our murder rate is not one of them. Update: I almost forgot about the guy who rode up to a car on his bicycle, and killed the driver. Dumbfuck either didn’t know or didn’t care that a goddamn marked cop car was right behind him the whole time You can read about the judge that allowed this menace on the street, and watch video of the bloody aftermath here (NSFW).
arts and music, traveling and touring - Comments Off - Posted on April, 29 at 12:41 pm…is a state filled with beautiful mountains. And somewhere in those mountains, along the banks of a river, is a little arty town called Thomas, where I played this past Saturday night, at the Purple Fiddle. It is exactly the kind of place I would go if I wanted to hole up of a year or two and write a novel.
blogs - Comments Off - Posted on April, 25 at 7:31 pmReviewing ye olde site-meter for the first time in years, I see that someone popped by for 17 minute visit, and 8 different page views. What kind of masochist does this?
Philadelphia, personal well-being - Comments Off - Posted on April, 24 at 12:05 pmSo after two weeks in California, I arrived back in Philadelphia at 5:45 AM last Friday. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to returning (who would, after two weeks of sunshine and flowers) but tried to put my mind in that “clean slate” frame. The cabbie tried to rip me off by taking a circuitous route home. My street was littered with trash. My neighbor’s front yard, which we share, was overgrown with crabgrass. It didn’t take very long to hear people on the street loudly referring to each other as “nigger” and “motherfucker”. I got stuck behind someone double-parked, and could see that there was a HUGE parking spot she could have been using. And I thought to myself, “I can do better than this. I can do a lot better than this.” Deep thoughts on a Wednesday morning.