Blogging is hard

I have tried twice now to successfully put down on, er, paper, how for the last ten days or so I have been coughing and wheezing. And how this has kept me from running, and thus proved to be a shitty cold, if only because of lack or exercise seems to be ruining my brain. Maybe it turns out I lean on running as a form of therapy more than I had even realized. But now that I have gone without it now for a little over ten days (not counting this weekend's pathetic attempt of two miles, which found me walking, slightly out of breath, and coughing). What I can not figure out is how could one week make such a difference? It could only be psychological. Or, perhaps this little chest cold, which even now when I take long deep breaths does not sound too different from the old springs that snapped shut the screened in porch door of my Dad's parents,opening, stretching... Whatever the reason, im down. Its an existential hell bent meandering through my brain that is lasting days and stretching my girlfriend's patience...

Listened to Dan Fante on fresh air with terry gross this morning. How this hack of a writer got on there is beyond me, terry must be reaching some sort of conclusion to her long list of interesting iraq war strategists and left wing conspiracy theorists. Dan is the son of John Fante, a writer who's biggest claim to fame is probably that Charles Bukowski claimed an affinity for him and helped get some of his works repressed and even added his on introduction.

His son however, is a watered down clone of his dad, who Bukowski himself was mirroring in style, thus making him seem like a bukowksi and john fante hack, if this makes any sense.

This blog is a writing exercise for me, and I give todays a d minus.