Working Out

Health issues seem to dominate this cul-de-sac of the web. I spend a fair bit of time at the gym these days. It's not a gym really so much as a holding pen for aging Philippino wives. Basically my workout regime consists of me riding a reclining cycle for 20 minutes watching CSI Burlington or whatever other drivel is on and then switching to the Total Body Maximizer 200Oc or whatever the hell it is called for another 20.
I tried reading today. Poetry if you can believe it. Charles Olson's Maximus. Or an anthology peek if you like. It was somewhat incongruous to say the least. I'm not convinced the library will appreciate the little sweat craters that have formed on the pages. The strangeness wasn't eased at all by the women nattering away with their headphones on, flapping that bit of skin under their arms that my brother-on-law calls bingo wings. They like to shout above the volume of I dare not try to imagine what music being cathetered into their ears.
I thought briefly of entering into a discussion on poetics with the big hairy guy who is always there in the steam bath but it seemed like a bad idea somehow.

Sunday Afternoon

I am hard pressed to see what bloggers write about every day I gotta tell you... Today I slept late. The dorm dweller I share a bathroom with having decided on a little shower love after closing time. There is nothing like listening to college kids going at it in an enclosed space. Above me they are herding Shetland elephants.
What else? Irish hurling. Munster final was on in the pub where I ate lunch, Waterford coming on strong at the finsih to beat Limerick. You'd know if you got one of those sticks in the mouth I reckon. The helmets they wear are pretty cool; seems to me one of them was wearing the old helmet I used to wear as a kid.
Diastolic pressure remains high but Systolic levels have returned to gravy eating territory.