the streets of sesame

Two for the run
But something inside you tells you
Some things can’t be done
— the prophet brent babb

i went out to run in a 25 mph wind on a day that would have been futile anyhow. looking for some inspiration on spotify, i discovered they have added the entire dead hot workshop catalog. they’re the band that carried me through the absolute best and worst days of my life. the songwriter, a guy named brent, was sort of a nutcase, but my favorite songwriter of all time. i spent endless nights drinking rolling rocks and marveling at how lucky i was to be in a tiny bar with a 5 buck cover to see a band that never failed to amaze me. rainy nights at long wong’s, the door open and the dancer over in the corner, an audience of half True Believers and half college students out for some wings. and now i was listening to them on an abandoned road in a crappy little town that is almost in texas and it was just so sad. then brent told me

when everything is wrong
and ending all along
and everyone’s to blame
sometimes you come up short
sometimes not at all. oh well.

i had only gone 2 miles. i quit. i just quit. the body just doesn’t work anymore. long wong’s is gone, the sun club is gone, nita’s is gone, doug is gone, elvis the cat is gone, my legs are gone. they’re just memories. i came home and watched two hours of dead hot playing at long wong’s and remembered. i thought those rainy nights of e minor drifting down mill avenue would last forever. i thought the same thing about running. i would be running effortlessly forever. i was wrong. i found myself crying softly in a dark room while brent fired up “free bird” at the end of the show just because a drunk guy screamed it one too many times. i miss those days. i miss charging 6,000 feet to crown king on a saturday morning in march and watching a show later that night, basking in that fuzzy state of too may miles and too many beers. i’ll never have that feeling again. it’s gone.

the guy who wrote that song
handed my friend a bong
and said see you later, so long
so long
so long forever

because in life, and in running, sometimes you come up short. and sometimes not at all. oh well …

About gary

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