oh well

When everything is wrong
And ending all along
And everyone’s to blame
And everything’s the same
Sometimes you come up short
Sometimes not at all.
Oh well

— the prophet brett babb

To modify the beloved phrase from genius ultrarunner James Zarei, it wasn’t a slow run; it was a fast Dead Hot concert.

On days like this, I cling to the words of Davy Crockett when he peeked over the Alamo wall: “Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.”

Some days are just days. You do your best, listen to Dead Hot for an hour of prancercising, regroup, reload and hope for the best. And that Alamo thing turned out OK, no?

You never can tell. Oh well.


r.i.p., elvis. we miss you.

About gary

no sock monkeys were harmed in the making of this blog.
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