November 15, 1999

...another jacksone browne song surfaced in my consciousness- first heard

it

sung by bonnie raitt- 'opening farewell' i believe it's calld- got some

lines

that go, 'there's a train/every day/going either way/there's a road you

know/there's a way to go...' then marel malaret tells me jackson's moved to

barcelona!

...but we're never gonna survive/unless/we go a little crazy-

seal's first hit was my theme song in '85, & still...

(a motion of return, an abundance recovered...)

th moment i feel th stiff northerly blowing head-on as i reach th

barceloneta

beach (that's th barcelona, not th puerto rico, barceloneta) i know what

i've

bn missing & avoiding, what i've bn craving & denying mself @ one & th same

time: my inner mommmy as overprotective as my flesh & blood one was, if not

more so under certain emotional circumstances...th voice that kept

insisting

every day, as i got back to my room from sitting in front of th computer

screen or after a big, late lunch, all thru th week- 'it's too late, it's

too

dark, it's too cold already, you should've bn ready an hour- @ th very

least,

a half hour- ago...'

-but that's precisely it! it's soothingly late, it's wonderfully windy,

it's

magically dark along th boardwalks leading away from th bustle of th

ramblas,

th port bars & shops...it's bn six weeks & i hardly make it past th villa

olímpica & its next set of bars, cafés & clubs- including th last surviving

planet hollywood restaurant...in th world?!-before turning back. rebuilding

time. thirty-two minutes. my knees are weak, even after so short a run. but

i'm happy happy happy. what a difference...

i argue w/ mself, i argue both points of view: there's no such thing as a

positive addiction- if i couldn't run, i cd've sat zazen, strolled th

ramblas

up & down a couple of hours, stretched & did an abs workout on th floor of

my

little room...there are always options, there is always @ th very least one

alternative to th compulsion...

on th other hand, th only thing that makes something like th routine of

running into a compulsion is precisely th conditioned tangle of fear that

locks into a paralysing struggle w/ th opposing, desired, course of

action...

back on th ramblas, th christmas decorations are going up-

it's coming on christmas/they're cutting down trees

they're putting up reindeer/singing songs of joy & peace

i wish i had a river/i could skate away on...

thank you, joni...thank you all-

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