Cirque of the Unclimbables

i have a new routine. it's funny.

really.

i go to the climbgym approximately every other day, i warm up a bissel, then i jump on one of my four or five standing projectos, and fall off of the finish hold.

Good, clean fun really.

But i can't help but think, "Ya know, it'd be just fine to send one of these any ol' time now, you wanker."


Oh well though. i keep in mind i'm not the only one aging at breakneck speed, and that any friggin' day now i might actually get to go to work, and in such an event i might just start feeling like a real live human again.

In the meantime i think i might be sloping off into some mild schizophrenia.

If i knew how, i'd post up an email from one of the credentialing people at the hospital. It's in maybe a 40ish pt italic font on a pink background, and it elucidates nothing whatever.

i'm beginning to hate people for a hobby. Some red flags go up about that, but i can't help but imagine how satisfying it'd be to just choke the hell out of a nearby idiot.

At any rate, i picked up a 10th anniversary Stone Ruination ipa, and it's really good. Let's just stick a pin in that thought... right there...

Speaking of which, sounds like Bolt got smacked down in the 100 and 200 qualifiers by some fellow Jamaicans. Good on 'im. His ego could use some deflation. just like mine.