Unrelated Segments

Writing, writing, writing.... Whatever...

These days I'd rather take pictures or listen to tunes or drink beer or hang out or all of the above. Writing? Or, more properly, writing for pleasure? Way down on the list of "necessary things." Right up there with going to the dentist and shit...

It's like talking--sometimes you feel like it, sometimes you don't. Sometimes you feel like it but you can't. Sometimes you can but you don't. Or won't.

I don't trust words anymore. Not mine, not yours.

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Recently I've decided that I need more exercise. It's kinda like when, every once in a while, I "decide" to quit smoking. I've done this sort of thing before. Many times, actually. There's a general feeling of well-being and accomplishment. It feels good. Then one night I have a few beers and begin thinking that, hey, this isn't *really* you, Rick. You smoke and drink and generally don't give a shit about your health. What the fuck are you doing? And really, if you can't agree with yourself, who the hell can you agree with?

So, against every instinct, I've been doing this exercise thing for a couple of weeks. I'm very briskly walking 6-8 kilometers every day. I'm taking the stairs. All that crap. There's a nice walking path just outside my condo. It has these benches that you can use to sit down, or to stretch and do sit-ups and stuff. A few days ago I decided I would do some sit-ups each time I walked by one of these benches. The first few days were easy, but then yesterday I actually found myself crying out in pain on the first sit-up. I hate this time-delay shit.

Fortunately, I like walking. Some people enjoy running. When I die, I'll be walking... with an attitude...

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Say what you will about Motorhead and/or this video, but "Killed by Death" is about as cool a title for a song (or anything else) as I'm capable of imagining...


Yeah.

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I just now, literally this instant, found out that a friend--a guitar player with whom I've played, has recently suffered a minor stroke. He's younger than me by about 10 years. For now, he can't play guitar. What say you, religionists? God's will? He was a "sinner." Go ahead, say it if you really believe it. And then I'll tell you what I really believe...

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There is a war going on. A war without guns. At least not yet...