just for fun

random photos

some new ones on the photo page

the return of sid

nearly twenty months ago, i was visiting berkeley when i came across a squirrel i subsequently named sid.  he vanished from my life as quickly as he had scurried into it.  while minding my business, i noticed a bushy-tail zooming across a fence.  i believe it to be none other than sid the squirrel.  on espionage duty.  mission: spy on me.  for what reason?  i hope to never find out.

thoughts over a 26 mile stretch of road and trail

at the starting line: oh no, i have to pee.  

one and a half mile: oh no, the porta potty line is way too long.

two and a half mile:  dammit, i’ll wait in line. 

two and a half mile:  this is the longest two minutes of my life.  

two and three-quarters of a mile:  oh yeah, i’ve never felt better in my life.  i think i’m gonna finish this thing.

four mile:  is there something peaking out of my nose?

seven mile: (man wearing a red shirt.  on the back it says “bangalore 2007.  i’m tough.  are you?”)  wtf?!  am i tough?! this shirt just challenged me as a human being.  i’ll show you.  (running faster, now next to the man who was in bangalore in 2007.  he’s breathing heavily)  ah.  weakness.  i’ve got you now.  (as i pass him i burst into flames)

eight mile:  (man passes me)  no way in hell is anyone else passing me from now on.  

nine mile:  is there something peaking out of my nose?

ten mile:  (man wearing a white shirt.  on the back it says “completed marathons in all 50 states, including d.c.)  i would bow in respect if could stop running right now.  

thirteen mile:  wow, thirteen miles already?!  but we’ll start talking about finishing this thing at sixteen.  

fourteen mile:  (half way up a moderate hill, a man mutters “i thought this was a flat course”) you and me both, bro.  

fifteen mile: is something peaking out of my nose?

sixteen mile:  ok sixteen miles.  we’ll talk about finishing this thing at eighteen.  

sixteen and half mile:  (i ask a volunteer for the time.  she says it’s 9:34)  i’m nearly under my under 4 hour pace.  i can do this.

seventeen mile:  there’s gotta be something peaking out of my nose.

eighteen mile:  ok eighteen miles.  we’ll talk about finishing this thing at twenty. 

nineteen mile: (person who would be my cousin james calls me out.  he says, “good job!  no don’t stop running to chat, keep going! you’re looking good.”)  thanks james.  appreciate the boost.  

twenty mile: i’m finishing this thing.  

twenty one mile:  (i pass a concrete structure with “virginia” etched into it)  yeah, i feel like i’ve ran all the way to virginia.  

twenty three mile:  (a group of yellow-clad observers cheer us marathoners on as we pass them by) thanks people.  that gave me a definite boost.  i hope i don’t have bloody nipples. (i peer downwards) no bloody nipples!

twenty five mile:  god, these last few miles are breaking me down and making me its plaything before it casts me to the side like a sad piece of trash.  

twenty six mile:  the finish line never looked sweeter. (i look behind to find other marathoners closing in on me)  uh uh, i said no one is passing me anymore.  (announcer says, “and here comes allen sin finishing strong.” i check my shirt, wipe my nose.)

twenty six and one fifths of a mile:  official time, 4 hours, 11 minutes and 9 seconds.  no bloody nipples and a clean nose to boot.  i want a beer.

closing time

some photos taken in the los angeles county museum of art.

a view of the valley

some photos taken at the diamond bar community center.

devotion

it may not feel like it but summer is already over.  no matter.  i’ll have this record to keep me warm during the (hopefully long) winter.

the road

cormac mccarthy’s portrayal of a man and a boy struggling across a desolate america is an understated and moving depiction of tenderness, love, and human connectedness.  it’s also simply written and under 300 pages, so get yourself a copy a read it today.  literally.

early morning meditations

before the dawn should break and start the day anew, under moon and twinkling star still bright, hearken to your ghost, ‘return to me.’  and your shell, rising from repose, quietly subdues the early morning shock.  

seemingly unconscious, you draw forth the water that cleans your face, clad your body in a shirt and short’s embrace.  reach for feet below and sky above, mild exertions to warm the blood.  gird your feet in a second skin, in shoes secured by knots perfected. 

now out of the house and onto the road, as though a mummy exhumed from its resting place.  set foot to ground and begin the journey.  take with you nothing but the notion of occam’s razor, to expel the inessential.  breath in and out, controlled and even.  head and shoulders as still as possible.  back straightened and chest expanded in imitation of a military man.  each stride as narrow as can naturally be made.  each step a leap to a destination. 

my eyes gaze upon the clouds above, the humble offerings like dull mirrors palely reflecting a raging fire below.  the road before me, neither friend nor foe, but rather, a question posed. 

what are you made of?

hero or villian, i shall reveal the answer in each step.

i am a drunken bard

here’s another demo offering.  the sound quality is a bit worse than usual.  i was working on lyrics for another song and these happened to come up.  it needed to be expelled from my system. 

that sounded wrong.