Friday

Even though today's title is Alien Poltergeist Reality, it's still just as prosaic as usual. That title is only a list of today's elements in reverse order. A journal title. If it was a descriptive clause, a story title, that would be exciting. See: I covered the Reality part already. That's what I call prosaic. Since my birthday I've had trouble returning to the gym. Except for this trip to Cambodia (and the in-law visit, the trip up the Mekong, the long election, and most Saturdays), I've been exercising every night for months. Whenever I slightly lapse, I become concerned about how difficult it’ll be to begin again. Ironically, once I finally stop worrying, I find the workout itself to actually be easier than I remember it being before. Apparently, resting is a worthwhile part of exercising. Last night I ran four kilometers cold; what had been difficult before my birthday was surprisingly easy. What was difficult was making myself do it: going downstairs was harder than running. The gym is usually dark after ten pm. But last night the television was left on and the gym was bright blue. On screen was continuous footage of two men riding horses toward me along a trail, ebbing and flowing in relation to the POV. The show was silent, hypnotic, and as seemingly pointless as creepy static. The TV is too high to reach and I couldn’t find the remote, even in the unusually bright room. It made for an eerie run, and afterwards I could see my sweat patterns. Something learned from exercising every day: apparently my sweat is acidic. I never noticed when I was essentially inert. My new body is beginning to eat tiny holes in my gym clothes. This reality of bodily pH is somewhat unnerving. [Cavin]