i’ve been slowly reading “platero and i.” it’s a lovely book by Juan Ramón Jiménez, a spanish poet who died in the mid-1950s. it’s the tale of life with a donkey. the stories are small snippets of life told in a lyrical way that makes me re-read them over and over. “oh song of the cricket in early morning, when shivering with the cold, platero and i turn homeward by paths white with dew. the red sleepy moon drops. now the song is tipsy with moonlight, drunk with stars, romantic mysterious, profuse. it is then that great mournful clouds bordered with a sad bluish mauve slowly bring the day up from the sea …” I cling to this book between rounds of stories of bodies being pulled from a river, of a man who watched his wife and children swept away by a raging river, of sadness i can’t imagine. of families torn apart, which i imagine all too well. sometimes it’s too much. i run, trying to escape, but it’s no use. but when i return, platero is there, dancing in a field at sunset. we must try burro racing.

the book of fleshman had today’s scripture: “Fuck this shit.” clearly a sign. so i strapped on my swim goggles, which promptly broke, turned the hat around, and uncorked a 9:47 on the second of 5 miles (12:12) on bay left course . died through last 3 miles, but totally worth it. i’m fairly certain zack de la rocha is good for about 10 seconds off a mile anytime. now i just have to put three of them together. um, right.