there's hope for us yet

Excersizing In Public In New York: A Review

This morning at 8AM, my brain lapsed and I went for a jog. I wore my Dirk Nowitzki tee shirt, a gray hoodie, black spandex leggings, and the ugliest Nikes on the planet. To avoid possible encounters with acquaintances, I ran across the Williamsburg Bridge via the Hasidic route (Broadway to Division Ave to Bedford Ave etc.). I envisioned my exercise to be empowering and invigorating; in a sense: enlightening. I’ve had a stressful couple of weeks, and I was looking for a release. I pictured this jog would spawn uplifting endorphins, ease me into a busy day, and enable concentration and eventually relaxation. It didn’t occur to me that I don’t remember the last time I actually did any sort of cardio exercise aside from the kickboxing dvd my roommates and I occasionally do while inebriated.
I programed my iPod to Busta Rhymes during the pre-bridge run. I switched over to my “Depressed Mix” when I decided to save my energy and walk the rest of the way to the ramp. Upon arrival to the ramp entrance, I turned on Nikki D’s Daddy’s Little Girl, and was ready to roll. I’m not going to go into detail of how I probably looked when I was full fledged panting and dodging cyclists, but I guarantee it was unattractive. My knees turned into jello. My cheeks were on fire. My lungs felt as though they were bound by pounds of shrink wrap, heavy and tiny at the same time. Thank god I wore sunglasses!
I admit there were a few moments this morning when I thought I’d rather be dead than running in public, but I overcame those twisted feelings and carried on.
I never achieved that “runner’s high”, not even a second wind, and it’s safe to say that my endorphins are officially dormant. I was practically limping when I reached my front door. Even now, I feel sluggish (physically AND mentally). However, I’m so horrified with how out of shape I am, that I plan to follow through with this new routine and think of it as an epiphany of livelihood. Does that make sense? God willing, I’ll start even earlier in the morning. I’ve quickly figured out why people jog at the crack of dawn: there are less passers-by, which is therefore less embarrassing. Also, you’ve got a FULL fuckin’ DAY to recover in every sense.

Whew.

"where's ya dudes?"

"Chicks like you always got dudes around"

southern

‹⁄∞⁄

save me from the mighty flood

(: ·•·•∞›‡†‡‹∞•·•· :)

i'm diane

rollin on da flo laughin

weekend fun

snap shot, work in prog

t g i f

knees + pray

blues sky

legs that beg

money shot

it ain't me babe

o'happy o'day, and with that, i give you nothing irish!

so/so

maaaaaaan, my neighbors have been ACTIVE lately. meouch!

kelsey stopped by das studio today to take notes for our collaborative project, which we will reveal in a couple months. tooootally totally tight, my dawgs.

in the meantime, here's a preliminary drawing for something bigger and [hopefully] better:

a drink & a prayer

2 sketches

מל יכול להיות חפץ

read it and weep

ladies with our babies

cibo and julio

sal

virgil and sister

leave

"i care about me and other people"

gender study

female cheese shop employee vs. male cheese shop employee. female is outside washing windows / male is outside taking a smoke break.

girl: you're killing yourself
guy: your mouth is what's killing me

things r diff

hard as nails

low rezzzzz

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in which rush moody briefly explains the tribulations of renting a room in nyc:

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BLAOW

Gorgeous!!!!! Very well built! Almost as cute as you! - Mom

good job a&t!

cheers, coach tom

ballin with me mates

2vidz

(:RUSH2punk2live2punk2dieMOODY:)

gun git sum

luv luv luv


My sister just called to tell me that her chiropractor says the reason she gets migraines is because she was BORN WITH HER HEAD ON CROOKED. I told her he’s a quack, but now that I think about it.......

On a different stroke, here's our gear so far:

Dallas