It's also hard to be lucid when you're bone tired. I say "also," because the same is true when you're mad, or cranky, or otherwise in a bad mood. But that is a more commonsensical notion. On the other hand, the first statement above IS also common sense. See what I mean, though? It's hard to write something sensible when you're in the after-throes of discovering seemingly new sets of muscles, as I've done these past few days. And particularly today, which was mostly about lifting boxes of stuff and gargantuan plastic garbage sacks bulging with heavy linen into a U-Haul truck, and then at the destination, up a flight of steps; why we have heavy comforters when we live in Hawaii is beyond me, but that's another, mom-related thing entirely.

Have you seen that ESPN-2 show, World's Strongest Man competition or something like that? Typically held in picturesque island locales like Malta, they hold a strange (if very fleeting) fascination for me... the clicker always gets "stuck" when I stumble on one of these competitions. It's a kick to watch grotesquely huge males with muscles the size of The Alamo lift, drag and throw objects with a mass like uh, The Alamo. Sometimes, these guys dissolve into blubbering, weepy mounds when they win (or, more rarely, when they fail to finish a particularly tough routine). That, too, is fascinating; kinda like gawking at the scene of a highway traffic accident. But I'm getting off-topic, aren't I?

The thing is, lifting some of thes things that I've been lifting these days, made me feel like one of the contestants on those challenges, particularly on this one routine where they pick up a huge, 300-pound slab of roughly triangle-shaped granite rock from Ireland, nicknamed the "Blarney Stone" or something like that. (I'm sure the name is different, I'm just guessing, doh!) Anyway, they use their thick-as-adult-python forearms and their sequoia-treetrunk legs to heft this obscenely heavy and irregularly shaped rock and they waddle with it some distance to and fro, until they drop it. It's morbidly fascinating to see those veins popping out horribly on all areas of their musculature, and one expects a sudden rupture with fountains of blood at any second. Like the way I had to heave boxes up and down the stairs at the Lahaina parsonage this afternoon. I really did feel like I was discovering muscles I had never ever before had the chance to really use, in all my life. I was cognizant of the strain, though, and so right now, even though I am bone tired (and, apparently, moderately inchoate), I don't have too much in the way of soreness. Hallelujah. These 4-decade old bits of tendon, gristle and bone need all the luck they can get.

It was a good workout, in the end... I wasn't really complaining. Just doing another freewrite about some generically insignificant thing that I'm sure will evince almost zero interest in the readership of this log. *chuckle* Just filling space. Don't you feel like when writing a daily weblog, you sometimes just "fill space"? Well, that's how I feel like right now, and it's also making me feel weirdly like Kati, who kinda writes like this, with as free and unimpeded a flow of thought and prose as is possible to achieve but she should still try and get those damn lines shorter. The length of her horizontal text lines is driving me batty! Perhaps she should rename her weblog: im2lazy2ediththisdefaulthomepage haha.

Anyway, that's what freewriting is all about. Is that what you do, Bigi? When you say you write cryptically? Your observations on writing, it seems to me, were as clear as rain. Laura thought so, too.

[ photo note: image is unrelated to anything i said in this weblog, except that it's chronologically appropriate, *lol* ... taken the same day of my herculean exertions, capturing the upcountry sunset in one of its forms, for the last time. as usual, clicking will enlarge. ]

{ net.casting }
^