What I did was what I usually do most days now and that is to work on edits until the wee hours of the morning with Mita curled up and sleeping at my feet.
Somewhere after midnight my cell beeped with the following accosting of my fragile sanity:
"Seriously. Chasing after Lycra? You've changed ... "
Well not the character but the guy playing the character. I remembered meeting him somewhere close to Venice Beach in LA a few years ago.
He is a B-List actor but his sister is a former Miss America, a respected recording artist, and of late she is a fixture on a high profile TV series.
AnyHowze, my memory of him was somewhat jolted by the fact that he was playing a gay man and the scene that caught my attention had him passionately kissing a fat white man.
The jolt part is because he and I are somewhat 'connected' by a woman we both dated a few years ago - at different times of course ... geez!
Ummm ... I think or at least I hope it was ... ;0)
OK so he dated her before me. I found out about them around the time that I decided to kick-start my green Kawasaki and roll for good.
So there I was piecing meaning together between a late SMS from a former girlfriend who seems perennially disappointed with me at ungodly hours and a scene on TV that stars the ex of a woman who has all but fizzled from my memory.
The scene was whack and I am not making any value judgements. It was whack because the ex was playing the lover of a powerful man who was married with kids.
They eventually break up and the movie ends with a closing scene featuring the ex jogging on a treadmill and flirting with another man in what seemed like Lycra tights.
I never did find out what the scores from New York were last night.
Somewhere after breakfast this morning I started humming the lines to a tune I have not heard in years. It never was a favorite but I found a compilation CD with it on and listened to it as I drove to the gym.
The lyrics are catchy in that 80s kind of way but I am left wondering what it all means to me. Why did it just start playing in my head?
The riddle goes a little like this:
I struggled to run on the treadmill at the gym. No there was no inspiring Lycra tightness to gawk at ... truth is there rarely is ... we are a decidedly out of shape and unattractive nation."When they insist on knowing my bliss, I tell them this
When they want to know what the reason is
I only smile when I lie, then I tell them why"
My treadmill woes are about getting older. My knees can't take the pounding of running anymore.
It seems that my body wants me to hit the weights harder like back in the day and that has everything to do with getting older too.
Well I am vain and I want to show some of the young guns that the old gees can still push an impressive stack.
The reason I was at Venice Beach the day I met the ex of my ex was to look in on the famed gym where bodybuilding and bodybuilders drew international fame.
It is a legendary place but it is also an ordinary place. A chain link fence around some really old skool equipment and no treadmills or Lycra.
Is it not funny how life is filled with unrelated events/things that only have meaning when we piece them together and then sometimes take them apart to make new meanings?
I think I need something else to go with all the old memories that clog my head like the dust clogs my nose in Kimberley.
I like that my bench press numbers are gonna be respectful again, soon.
And I like that I can think about a new list.
Onward!
Ps. Ummm ... not everything is what it seems in life. The sh*t above is more than just piffle. I think.
But perhaps you may think that this is a weak postmodern rendition of chaos theory. You may be right.
How's your list coming along by the way?
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