26 January 2011

from the beretta puttin' all the holes in ya sweata

oh my god, yoga - how could i forget? i don't consider myself concerned with either fitness (i like to temper long bike rides by smoking several cigarettes and/or eating ice cream while pedaling) or spirituality (a quote from freud's civilization and its discontents - "i cannot find this 'oceanic' feeling in myself" - comes to mind whenever i ponder spirituality or religion) but i fucking love yoga. i'm a pretty tense person - never give me a massage because i've found that they're exercises in futility concerning either romance or relaxation - but yoga relaxes me more than almost any other activity. and have you ever smoked a cigarette after a yoga session? that is the closest i've come to a religious experience. i ecstasy of st. teresa all over the fucking place.

i think i'm going to start using works of art as verbs more often.

this past week: getting a phone, missed connections but not the craigslist kind, john ashbery in conversation with kenneth koch, waking up at either 3:30 or 4:30 a.m. for absolutely no reason and spending an hour trying to fall back asleep, being disappointed with the february issue of poetry magazine, root vegetable chips, jason lint, crazy people, actually wanting to see new movies (the king's speech, the rite), leaving my flask in megan's car part ii, trying to give water to random girls peeing/throwing up in the shadiest part of downtown ever at 2 in the morning but being yelled at for it, realizing that if i'm fucking someone i'm probably unhappy with their hair

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