At the gym

I have planned and unplanned a dozen things to do today. A dozen trips, projects, plans. Im trying to plan away the energy in a fight that I never win. I wrote a story at the gym today that was brilliant. Everything I write at the gym is brilliant, of course brilliant when I can't actually write it. And you can't prove that it wasn't any more than I can prove that it was. Because you can't actually WRITE at the gym. Or maybe you can - maybe you can learn but I haven't yet. I would love to be able to because everything I write at the gym is brilliant. Like I said. How did today's 'story' start? Oh yeah- I can't slow my mind. Its hip-hopping (I don't know if I wrote that at the gym- OK- I do know that I didn't write that at the gym. I wrote it now- in my car in the parking lot of the gym. which kind of counts, right? And I can't remember exactly what i wrote in the gym (which was brilliant) so I'm trying to regrasp it now. Maybe I can find a little brilliance in paraprasing?- rewriting?- trying to fill in the gaps of missing old words with new words. Same thoughts (mostly) new words (slightly). I hope I'm not taking a spot someone needs with my car- Anyway, where was I? Oh- I can't slow my mind. Hip hopping from one thought to the next, one word to the next. My eyes darting and dropping from one object to the next. one tv i can't hear to another. there are 5 tvs and they alternate between the same two channels. I like to bounce between the 2 same channeled ones trying to make sure there is no lull in the broadcast. Trying to move quick enough back and forth to not miss any of the commercial now playing. This is not what I wrote at the gym. What I wrote at the gym was brilliant- this not so much. Why can't I remember what i wrote in the gym? Shit- i'm starting to not want to write- i want to get it out. damn it! concentrate. I can't make my mind stop. my eyes are flitting form one thing to the nezt. one tv to another to another to one with the same station as the first. to the aerobics class being held. to the person in front of me. to my book which is opened to the first page. contents on one side. prologue on the other. this is the second book i have tried to read today. while i was at this machine. i have read the first paragraph 3 times. the first sentence at least three more. 'i went seal hunting today' bourdain. i got it in the hopes that i could fall into it- away to it. stop my world from spinning by engrossing myself in someone elses. food memoirs are good for that. light, funny, and sometimes written well enough to actually be inspiring on some level. the first book that i read the preface and half of the first chapter of is a memoir of a girl who grew up under a schitzoprenic mother. i think its written well and i couldn't concentrate enough to hear the writting so i switched to bourdain. 'i went seal hunting today' the movie on tv #2 is lit really fakely. hair lights in nature. i think its the bad news bears. my neck hurts. i dont really want to write anymore. fuck. think. maybe if you get it out you can still it. i dont think so- i'm writing to feverishly. im only perpetuating it. what was the word? i used a good word when i 'wrote' at the gym today. it was kind of like perpetuated but not. Not in meaning- in sound. damn it. what was it? damn it. damn it.
have to let it go. i talk in i's when i talk to you, ficticious reader. I think in we's and yous. we've got to get through this. you've got to slow down. come on we're ok. you can do this. but i only talk in i's when i talk to you. or when i talk to myself but someone else. thats not as crazy as it sounds i dont think. i never talk to anyone else when i talk to myself. i just talk like im talking to someone else. is that better? Ok. I answer as myself when i talk to myself. idont expect someone else to answer. thats when you are crazy, right? when you talk to yourself as someone else and you expect someone else to answer. jesus. i bet im not making any sense at all. i need to stop talking about where I am and start talking- i mean writing- about how i got here. its an interesting story i swear- at least i think it is.