Miles Away from Logic

Thank goodness for the ever-existent therapeutic effect of a good run. After finally getting out the door at eleven this morning, it was apparent that I definitely need to hoof it in the morning to a greater extent if I'm going to have a sliver of a chance at beating the heat of the summer (this week's been especially scorching), but it was still worth the sweat and sandpapery sensation I was awarded at the end of my route...nothing beats that feeling of accomplishment after honestly exerting oneself.

The need for that aforementioned therapeutic effect came later in the day, of course...as it usually does. Come to think of it, maybe I didn't use the therapy of my run as anger management on purpose, but its mood-lifting quality is what I place part of the blame upon. Blame for the really good conversation I had with Dirk today. Normally 2 or 3 quite condescending or otherwise neener-neener-neener type remarks present themselves mysteriously within our chatter, and the next exchange we have, be it per email, telephone, or in person, takes about 2 or 3 more months to actually take place--that gives each of us time to forget why we're pouting.

We spoke about his roommate, the roommate's girlfriend, shady ebay and craigslist dealings, the crazy merry-go-round of divorces and marriages which neither of us desires to experience, and life, in general, that only we can understand eachother about, for reasons beyond even my deep "Dr. Phil" side. I mentioned that I had seen an old ("old" in many respects) bartender friend of mine that day who offered me to come visit his new gig: at Yosemite Lanes. A potential job offer was even warmly extended my direction, which, to be quite honest, really does intrigue me. What could possibly pepper up my strange list of work experience more than bartending at a bowling alley, especially, to quote my old friend,"on the cheatin' side of town?"

Dirk mentioned we ought to go get a drink and visit at Yosemite Lanes sometime soon, and also made reference to the likely possibility of his getting rid of his roommate Jared, once his fire academy concludes...and that I ought to room there, once that happens. He said it just like one would say, "Yes, of course, I'll meet you at six!" like it's the routine, the plan. Right-o. I can't really fault him for acting so casual about it...I said "Yeah, seriously" in exactly the same way. He couldn't be serious (?)...

It spells disaster...but how far did spelling ever really get me, anyway?