Novelist. Editor. Journalist. Business Writer.
The things you see in Brooklyn. Like this poster for a missing pigeon. “Dennis” was last seen crossing Atlantic Ave. by Court Street, which is exactly where this photo was taken. Maybe Dennis was going to Trader Joe’s or Sahadi’s. Obviously this either a joke or “art” or both. While taking the photo this morning, some guy pushing a stroller asked me if I’d put the poster up. I did not take credit for this bit of genius. (And neither did I call the phone number. )
Today was supposed to be a day off from running, but I ended up taking off yesterday. Don’t know if lunch poisoned me or was just fighting something else, but I had to leave work … how do I put this … in a hurry. Thankfully, I made it home without incident. I’d die from embarrassment if I was the jerk who got sick on the train and brought the whole system to a halt.
(Oh. Hi. If you’re reading this, won’t you consider donating to help fight cancer? I’m running the Hamptons Half Marathon with Team in Training/Leukemia & Lymphoma Society)
So no run yesterday. Made it home and watched movies, including Swedish vampire movie “Let the Right One In.” Really good movie.
This morning, woke up and was still feeling a bit off in the head. Thought about skipping today entirely. Then thought, “Maybe I’ll go during lunch.” Then I said, “Screw it. Drag your ass out there.”
Glad I did. Sixty-six degrees out there today. Great day for running. Now I just have to worry about squeezing in an eight-miler this weekend.
Mile 1: 8:11
Mile 2: 8:19
Mile 3: 8:11
Half mile: 4:06
I don’t know him. Hell, I don’t even watch half the shows/movies he writes about. For example, I haven’t read a word of Twilight or seen anything beyond the trailers. But I will read his entire recaps. Why? Because he’s hilarious.
But oh well, mom needs to hit the road, so up Bella goes. When she gets there her dad, who is the sheriff of the town and is named Billy or something, is all “Hey kiddo, I don’t know how to cook because I live alone and am a man, want a cold hot dog?” And Bella is all “Daaad, I’ll cook for you, I’m a girl.” So she starts to cook for him and he looks at her mustachely and decides to buy her a car so she can get around his drizzle kingdom.
Mustachely. My new favorite adverb.
So probably the nicest running weather in months and I had set myself up for the treadmill. The Nike+ doesn’t exactly play nice with the treadmill, but this was about mile splits or whatever we want to call them. Can I get a Fartlek?
Half mile warm-up: 5 minutes
Mile 1: 7:19
Half mile cool-down: 5 minutes
Mile 2: 7:09
Half mile cool-down: 5 minutes
Mile 3: 7:20
Quarter mile cool-down
I hadn’t done a workout like this since high school. Man, were my times much better then. Two things to note: I’m still holding back way too much on first miles, I think. Also, I was on track to run that last mile faster than that, but the fucking treadmill at the Y, in its infinite wisdom, started forcing cool-downs on me, which dropped the speed to 4.5 miles per hour which meant me scrambling –boop-beep-boop– to get it back up.
Stupid treadmill.
Also, last night I dreamed the toenail on my left big toe turned black and fell off. Just thought I’d share.
Remember, folks, I’m doing this to fight cancer, so think about donating.
Now that Robert Byrd has gone to that great Klan meeting in the sky, West Virginia needs a new senator. I nominate Jesco White, of the “Wild and Wonderful Whites of West Virginia.” Because if funneling billions of federal money to build bridges and buildings with your name on it is enough to make up for a past that included the Klan and voting against civil rights laws, then certainly being funny and having a documentary made about you is enough to make up for murder and drug dealing!
Here’s a video you won’t want to miss. After all, you want to know what a gooch is, don’t you?
It was a sweltering day, we’d been standing out there marching, marching, marching. Things just weren’t coming together. Clouds rolled in, cooling us off just a little. It thundered. Violating every safety guideline in the books, we were kept in the field.
Continue reading “This One Time at Band Camp . . .”
Apparently, the officials didn’t like what they saw on instant replay.
A six-story-tall statue of Jesus Christ with his arms raised along a highway was struck by lightning in a thunderstorm Monday night and burned to the ground, police said.
While in Louisiana, I actually managed to spend some time reading. Finished up the short stories of Flannery O’Connor on the way down and knocked out David Carr’s “Night of the Gun” and Emily Gould’s “And the Heart Says Whatever.”
I hadn’t really planned to write about either one of them. I’m a couple years late on Carr’s book and, frankly, I was worried I wouldn’t like Gould’s. (Despite my cranky image, when it comes to new writers if I don’t have anything nice to say, etc. I also didn’t feel like putting up with cat-calls from the peanut gallery.)
But! (As they say on Gawker and The Awl.)
Continue reading “So David Carr and Emily Gould Walk Into a Genre”
Breakfast this morning was a smoked sausage and egg biscuit at Jim Neely’s Interstate Barbecue. In the Memphis airport. Now, of course, you’re thinking, “Airport. Doesn’t count.” Well, let me tell you. Jim Neely his own damn self was in there checking on things, holding court with customers about the Food Network, barbecue, running restaurants and his nephew. Good enough for me. Continue reading “Things I’ve Eaten Today”
KEN WHEATON 