American Dreams

When I watched American Beauty the first time and saw Keven Spacey smoking up a doober and lifting weights in his garage while rocking out to some Zeppelin or Floyd or something, I thought, that is cool. Actually, it's not cool at all, it's needlessly masochistic. I got pretty high before going to the gym yesterday... not my greatest idea. They have this eliptical machine that measures your heart rate and adjusts the difficulty based on your specified target range. I usually set it to 170, and it rarely reaches that level, but yesterday my heart was racing up towards 160 after only a minute or two and into 170 after four or five... I was getting my ass kicked hard. The other two machines, the treadmill and bike, were another 40 minutes of unusual intensity. Then I really had my ass handed to me. I moved on to the leg weights and discovered an entire new realm of punishment. I remember glowing red lava being poured on my legs and my stomach was giving birth to hell daemon, I looked down and expected something to pop or rip or fucking explode in my legs or abdomin. Every repetition was another blooming flower of agony and each set was a bouquet. I should have stopped... but I couldn't be bothered to, so I kept going and going until it was finished. Getting up off of every sequential machine became more and more awkward, I could barely lift my legs off the ground with each step... they had become some new variety of dense rubber, like the kind NASA would use to make dildos. Yes, my legs had turned into space-age rubber dildos and it was all I could do to not to walk into the wall and fall over. Even with total concentration and focus on every little step (waddle) I still managed to trip twice. Well, anyhow, I got through it okay, but kids, don't get high before intense physical excertion (unless it's sex) and don't listen to anything American Beauty has to say about drugs. And if you ever pay $5000 for a nickle bag of pot, it had better get you high for years. Dumbasses.

I went back to the gym today and I've kept going for ten days straight now, so I've accepted that I'm serious about this, just like with the smoking. Everyday forever. I'd like to post some half-naked picture of myself every week or two, so that six months from now I can flip through them and it will look like I'm turning into The Hulk... except, you know, white. I'd really hate to artificially boost the popularity of this blog with my handsome body (this is strictly a writer's blog), so I'm starting a new blog just to detail my progress and to be heedlessly self-indulgent and vain. It's http://gonna-fly.blogspot.com