December 6, 1999

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Following the lead of the bones, I made up a list of things that needed to get done (note to bones: this is what scrap paper is for). I locked Señor Mañana in the bathroom, and got some stuff done.

Some snail mail correspondence, for instance. The snail clings to life.

Since I was doing my once-a-week Windowsing, I decided to do updates on my Win95 setup. There were all these security upgrades, each requiring a reboot. Does MS think I'm made of time? I did one, and left the rest for later - so all you h4X0r types, if you can figure out my schedule, I'm yours for the taking.

The one security update I did was to the quaintly-titled "Microsoft VM" (their JVM); this was done in hopes that the updatebot would notice that the MVM wasn't working in IE5 (despite installing IE5 with it) and fix the situation. Didn't work.

I then downloaded the current MVM. Still doesn't work in IE. It works, as part of Win95 - as before - but no IE.

Downloaded the DirectX 7.0 stuff. Wouldn't install. There's also no longer an indication from the "Windows Update" page of what items are already installed. While all this was going on, I showered, wrestled the bird's nest that is my unkempt hair (I will leave it combed-back and rubber-banded henceforth), and prepared a short grocery-shopping list.

Another upgrade opportunity: the Real logo in the systray starts flashing. I click it, and there's a breathless dialog from Our Friends at Real. Come get the new, new, new! RealPlayer 7! It's actually still a version 6.x, with a few new doodads. My options are Oooh, tell me more! and Bring it on!. No Fuck off and die, corporate pigs! choice. Actually, there is a Save it for later, bud option, but it means I'll be greeted with the breathless dialog again if I even look at the Real logo. I'll try it later if DirectX 7 installs.

Nuked a bunch of E1 nodes (and it felt good!). I need to update my E2 home node, but it can wait until mañana.

Sorted my various mailing list mails, into their respective folders, or my own personal Marked for Destruction limbo. Found the .orc file I'd been looking for, amidst the haystack of the week's Csound mailing-list posts.

I'm still resembling Sainte-Thérèse de Lisieux, with a few odd respites.

Well... where to begin?

I think my pointless crush on one G. Harris is wearing off. I've been thinking of her less and less... but the way my mind (and/or heart, and/or soul, depending on your conception of the human intangibles) works is that you can only get over one crush by replacing it with another (just like an addiction, natch). I've had two dreams in two nights, each one featuring the previous unrequited love of my life, one S. Perez, in a small cameo role. And she appeared just as she did way back in high school, when she sat behind me in European History class and I'd spend all hour watching her reflection in my glasses (sneaky bastard that I was). She just sat there, first night on a park bench at night, second night having dinner with her old ex from three years back, and she spoke in her odd pseudo-British way, but I'd never remember the words... just the cadence of how she spoke, the beautiful syncopation of it. Just thinking back to those dreams makes me feel all fuzzy inside.

Second part of the day : after work, I decided to go running again. It had been a few weeks since I had last run... struck down by a flu that just wouldn't go away. Now that I'm no longer hacking up dark yellow phlegm with regularity, I decide to go running again - only one and a half miles, might as well ease myself beck into routine. I was getting tired of running and biking, anyway, so the layoff was nice. I dress in the requisite sweats (no more shorts - it's 38 deg. F out there, after all...), put on my watch, stretch, and head out on the path.

Cut about eight minutes and 1 1/6 miles in the future. I'm taking it easy, jogging, getting back in the flow. The turn home is coming up - once I make the turn, it's just over a third of a mile to my apartment. I check my watch : 5:56:46. I take that last step and turn the corner...

...and suddenly, I'm no longer running. I'm running. I've found that special place again.

It's hard to explain the feeling that I get when this happens. It's hard to get across, with just words... but I'll try. It's like... it's like a relay just falls in your head, a switch goes on, and your whole mind and body is electrified, bright blue sparks shooting through you, and

everything
becomes
effortless

and you're dancing, dancing like a cheetah, life must have been like this for Barishnikov, when he gets up on stage and the adrenaline hits and he makes that first leap... the very air is working with you, helping you move... it's not a control thing. You don't control anything. Everything, your mind, your body, the ground, the air, it all just decides to cooperate and work together and it moves like a machine of excellence, quick, powerful, and containing an infinite reserve of grace.

My arm reaches out without a thought and I slap the pole that announces that I have finished my run. I slow to a stop. And a huge weight comes down on my lungs - I can't breathe! I glance at my watch. 5:58:01. I am not surprised in the least. Taking off the five seconds that elapsed since I hit the finish line, I nailed off just over a third of a mile in 1:10, running at a pace that could have easily broken the current world record for the mile. I know, deep in my gut, that I'll never, ever run this fast again. And then I collapse on the ground as I pay for the pure joy I just experienced.

I don't get up for a while. I can't. I hurt too much.

This has now happened for the eighth time in my life. Twice running, once biking, four times (hat trick, plus one!) in karate, and a glorious once in a dance class. It only happens when it's something that I've worked on, something I've practiced into the ground, where my body remembers the movements it will make and I can just do it, where I can focus on the subtleties rather than say 'wait... what was next?'. And each time, it's the greatest drug that I've ever had. But this was the first time running or biking that it translated directly to massive performance gains.

I'm looking forward to tomorrow. I'm not tired of running and biking anymore. I can't wait to get on my bike.

It's been an interesting day, no?

Well, my blunt impatience to learn how to make hardcore spiffy 3D graphics has led me to stop trying to learn Blue Moon. Ah, well, I'm not the graphical type.

Here I sit, watching more examples of how the Linux C++ compiler is much better than VC++. All the while, I am becoming an ambidextrious mouse user.

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