I went for a ride with In Limine and Handful of Dates (he gets through the day with a handful of words like the proverbial arab does on a handful of dates). It proved to be unsatisfactory. Lack of food, sleep, general marshmallow-ness, or quasi-bonk. Who knows? I kept loosing power when I rode. We’d stop, I’d get it back, then it would leave even more quickly than the previous time. Final tale of the tape (guestimate by Google Earth) was 40 miles. Everything over 30 was pretty tough going.
On the way home I stopped at the national book fair on the mall, sponsored by the Library of Congress and Laura Bush. I got a free Fahrenheit 451 poster. Now that’s *irony* for you.
I stopped briefly in the poetry tent (when you’re gassed, stopping can mean not-starting again) and listened to a woman read. It was pretty unmusical – “the important anecdote read in a cadence” kind of thing. There’s this “important subject” voice that poet’s use – and it’s ripe for mockery. But she’d chosen a poem about Japanese intern camps. And that, in the tent, on the mall, elevated well into the poetic realm as far as I’m concerned. I hope the hundred or so people there got the message.
Upon arriving home, I met up with a runner in the elevator (I live in a building populated with friendly young women – it’s a rough life). I looked a her with dull eyes. She looked at me with dull eyes. “Marathon training,” she said. “Long run.” I was spandexed out and had the bike, so saying “bike ride” seemed a bit redundant. I nodded, she nodded.
After putting on clothing, I went across the street to a Russian Bizarre at a local orthadox church. No one asked me my connection to things-Russian, which is just as well, since it mostly involves my ancestors being persecuted and slaughtered by them over many centuries. But the Russians do mean things with cabbage also. So I got the veggie plate and wolfed it down in about 60 seconds.
I still feel dull and slow.
This afternoon case-work awaits me, then maybe working on an essay/review, some minor cleaning and washing.
If I only had either a) a brain, or b) some energy, things would be right on track.