Elementary subtraction
I have found myself in a default. Ennui calms the reception. Raucousness is contained.
Due to delays beyond my employer's control, I am in my hometown. I have gotten here too much. Much too much, lately. But here there is a bed that no one is in the habit of using. So i will use it. There is also a small cauldron of m&m's to be found not far away, on the bar where my brother's bedroom once was. The m&m's are pushing three years of age, but they seem to have natural laws against age discrimination.
I am doing alright, thanks! Sometimes it feels like i have cobbled together a bit of a personality, following several months of effort, with lengths of twine and halves of shipwrecked birds' nests. And hot glue guns and shellac. There is always the presence of some crisis, or the mirage of a crisis wedging itself between three or four macaroni folds inside the frontal lobe. In actuality, it is just old-fashioned and classic Me.
Today i got into the Olympic spirit. My high school has a decent track. It cost a million dollars or more, but even though its existence nullified the potential for curriculum or educational resources that could have bolstered my life and spirit, it was worth it because it looks sharp and gives me someplace to exercise when i am wandering through, romancing an old ennui.
Anyway. Clouds were drifting by very quickly. It was relatively cool for August, but there i was, running laps on a track i had helped christen with younger footfalls during a gym class in maybe 1992, maybe 1993. The track encircles the varsity soccer field. The goal frames were looking haggard. The crossbars were flaking with rust. I had scored a goal in each of them, in 1994. One was the opening tally in our first game. My achievement was made known to the school during the announcements the next morning, and everybody gave the other Tim Miller pats on the back the rest of the day, especially since he was a freshman. An unbelievable accomplishment. My other goal was a monster shot with wicked slice, engineered by the outside of my right foot, like i liked to do back then. I think that one was the sixth goal in a 7-1 rout. But anyway. Both goals were scored for the Medina Mustangs. But I decided today that i have never felt much like a Medina Mustang. And least of all now. And so i decided that i would like to rescind my contributions.
I am not completely sure how one rescinds soccer goals that happened fourteen years ago, so i decided to have a spirited virtual conversation with each of the haggard goal frames, since they were present in the then and the now. The south goal frame claimed not to remember. It shrugged its shoulders, in the way that goal frames do. However, my aura flickered with something like intensity, and the south goal frame relented. It was confused, but the south goal frame agreed that the tally no longer exists, and whatever potential for glory that that moment contained is now amalgam to my entity, again. Or for the first time.
The north goal frame had a bad attitude. It agreed fairly quickly to allow me to rescind the other goal, but it was very short with me. I never did like the north goal frame very much.
Also, i have profoundly weird and psychedelic thoughts while i exercise. I don't know the brainscience behind why that happens, but it does.
I did eight laps on the track, and encountered five ravens. That equals thirteen, but omens will have to wait.
Lee Whedon library is selling all of their books today. I think i will go, for old times' sakes.
Due to delays beyond my employer's control, I am in my hometown. I have gotten here too much. Much too much, lately. But here there is a bed that no one is in the habit of using. So i will use it. There is also a small cauldron of m&m's to be found not far away, on the bar where my brother's bedroom once was. The m&m's are pushing three years of age, but they seem to have natural laws against age discrimination.
I am doing alright, thanks! Sometimes it feels like i have cobbled together a bit of a personality, following several months of effort, with lengths of twine and halves of shipwrecked birds' nests. And hot glue guns and shellac. There is always the presence of some crisis, or the mirage of a crisis wedging itself between three or four macaroni folds inside the frontal lobe. In actuality, it is just old-fashioned and classic Me.
Today i got into the Olympic spirit. My high school has a decent track. It cost a million dollars or more, but even though its existence nullified the potential for curriculum or educational resources that could have bolstered my life and spirit, it was worth it because it looks sharp and gives me someplace to exercise when i am wandering through, romancing an old ennui.
Anyway. Clouds were drifting by very quickly. It was relatively cool for August, but there i was, running laps on a track i had helped christen with younger footfalls during a gym class in maybe 1992, maybe 1993. The track encircles the varsity soccer field. The goal frames were looking haggard. The crossbars were flaking with rust. I had scored a goal in each of them, in 1994. One was the opening tally in our first game. My achievement was made known to the school during the announcements the next morning, and everybody gave the other Tim Miller pats on the back the rest of the day, especially since he was a freshman. An unbelievable accomplishment. My other goal was a monster shot with wicked slice, engineered by the outside of my right foot, like i liked to do back then. I think that one was the sixth goal in a 7-1 rout. But anyway. Both goals were scored for the Medina Mustangs. But I decided today that i have never felt much like a Medina Mustang. And least of all now. And so i decided that i would like to rescind my contributions.
I am not completely sure how one rescinds soccer goals that happened fourteen years ago, so i decided to have a spirited virtual conversation with each of the haggard goal frames, since they were present in the then and the now. The south goal frame claimed not to remember. It shrugged its shoulders, in the way that goal frames do. However, my aura flickered with something like intensity, and the south goal frame relented. It was confused, but the south goal frame agreed that the tally no longer exists, and whatever potential for glory that that moment contained is now amalgam to my entity, again. Or for the first time.
The north goal frame had a bad attitude. It agreed fairly quickly to allow me to rescind the other goal, but it was very short with me. I never did like the north goal frame very much.
Also, i have profoundly weird and psychedelic thoughts while i exercise. I don't know the brainscience behind why that happens, but it does.
I did eight laps on the track, and encountered five ravens. That equals thirteen, but omens will have to wait.
Lee Whedon library is selling all of their books today. I think i will go, for old times' sakes.