erectus

you fill the lungs of the day

flooding. 

forgive me.. these photos were taken from a cellular phone. and i am no photographer. 

tonight i went on a run with mason stoddard on the R mountain out west of rexburg. it was quite the night and quite the run. the dirt was soft and cool, we experienced a little bit of rain which was refreshing, and the clouds and sun demonstrated to us that they can still naturally create something almost more beautiful than anything we could purposefully create as human beings. the smell of  the wet sage in the encompassing desert. the beaverheads, lemhis, and lost river ranges further out west looking down on us. the snake and teton rivers covered in cottonwoods (which can consume 100 gallons of water per day, per tree..) and even the teton range to the east. to the north the centennial mountains, which (i was told) are some of the only mountains in the states that run east to west. and to the south, the snake river valley spills forth. its all so defining for me, because its idaho. the state of my nativity. though i cant compare because i have really only lived here and nowhere else, im still so happy to be from here. 

when you throw running into the mix then the final product is most liberating. earlier this year i read christopher mcdougall's book "born to run," and was most convinced of its message. He argues that we human beings, specifically our species, homo erectus, evolved as running machines and that as far as distance and endurance is concerned, are the best on the planet. Its an interesting story and study intertwined to substantiate that thesis. Mcdougall specifically argues that not only did we evolve and thrive as a running species, but that we did so barefoot, and that modern running shoes have become somewhat of a detriment to those who enjoy running by offering too much by way of support and comfort which weakens the foot and therefore causes a variety of injuries and difficulties down the road to various joints and muscles. A possible solution that is suggested is re learning what he believes is correct form in running, that is landing on the ball of your foot or even slightly midfoot as opposed to the heal, and doing so with minimal support around the foot. Thus styles of shoes like the vibram 5 finger and other minimal designs have become rather popular. - 

vibram five fingers

I was skeptical at first (like i had any reason to be...) but was eventually curious enough to do additional research, do my best at re learning my form, and even bought a pair of five fingers, and now stand convinced that christopher mcdougall's point is valid and has the potential to improve others abilities when it comes to running. 

there is no better feeling to run, and feel like you could just run forever. I could run for days throughout idaho with the music and words of mark kozelek flowing through my ears and into my heart. 

an excerpt from sun kil moon's song titled, "you are my sun"

admiral fell promises (album)

You are a swing
Sleepy porches, the warm light
On my face
You are a charge, of wild horses
You are the sun
You are my sun
Seeping over, spilling out
Over the mountains
You are my sun

la grande, oregon

I was inspired by a friends facebook profile picture to search throughout the ruins of my life and recover artwork from a certain series of books titled, "scary stories to tell in the dark." There were three parts to this series, and I remember at one time owning all three. Closely associated with the memories of reading these books is with whom I would read them, namely my cousins from la grande, oregon. Lexis, Mary, Andrew, and Libby, to name a few. There was no better thought than knowing that I was going to stay a fortnight or so in the quiet, perfectly warm, pine and juniper smelling town of la grande with my beloved extended family, who I dont necessarily see as "extended" family, but rather immediate. While there, my cousin andrew and I seemed to be amused by such simple yet strange things. One of these "things" that andrew and i found great entertainment in were ghost stories and tales of a paranormal sort. We could find such stories in the series of "scary stories to tell in the dark." These books were perfect. The books caused us to tremble. They allowed us to safely venture into the creepy, cob webbed, fog ridden, cracked tombstone reaches of our imagination while yet retaining a steady grasp on reality. Not necessarily the stories (although I personally will give the stories credit for scaring me senseless) but the artwork within the books. For instance....

yes.. the thing. The line between actual memories and dreams inspired by these haunting images (especially from this time in my life, maybe 10 years or so ago) is drastically blurred. I attempt..

this story was about two teenagers in a house going about their business when they see this "thing" looking at them from across the road. I believe that in the story the "thing" gets closer and closer and they eventually converse with it. I cant remember what the thing says.. Maybe some kind of prophecy regarding the quality of the teenagers lives if they surrender their juvenile tendencies. (any help reminding me what really happened would be greatly appreciated.)  The description in the book of the "thing" fits the artists rendering. 

misc - 

I dont remember there being a story regarding this flying heap of anatomical confusion.. but I vividly remember the victim on the ground being so exposed to the blood-weeping skeleton's root like arm and tiny finger. It may be one of the first times I can remember sincere empathy for a non-existent person. 

I dont remember if this had a story related to it as well, but my purpose is to simply display the image. I also remember this one not only terrifying me, but also making me laugh. Those two emotions being felt at the same time at that age was overwhelming. I remember taking a nap at my grandmothers house (just up the street from the before mentioned cousins house) and waking up to andrew holding this picture in front of my face. I have had some strange connection to it ever since. Maybe because there seems to be a hint of maternal-like care peering out from the beedy eyes of this apparently woman like figure. The kind of look that she wants to care for you, yet has very bizarre, and perhaps terrible intentions. 

the friend whos facebook picture inspired me to reminisce so is andrew izatt (another andrew), who I have known since kindergarten and remains a driving and beloved influence in my life to this day. to honor him, i post the picture which is the cover of first book of the series. some rudolphed nosed, pip squeaked eyed, pipe smoking head who prefers to straddle the boundary between a dilapidated building and a graveyard. might I also add that the shape of his skull is note worthy. 

thank you, andrew.

and lastly, my favorite, and also the picture i use to transition to the close of this blog-

how that dead man danced! thank you alvin schwartz (author) and thank you andrew izatt and cousins for the memories.

dancing. music - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

This may be sappy, but I must say that at certain times in my life, I will hear a song in which the lyrics seem to relate to something I am experiencing so perfectly as to assist me in getting a grip on my perspective of the situation to move on and forward through life. Sometimes with a smile, sometimes with great pangs of fear and confusion. Nevertheless, I could never try and begin to dilute the amount of inspiration that comes to me from music and especially the lyrics tied to certain songs, whether I would be able to directly relate to the author or not. We are all primates anyways though, right? Doesn't that fact alone build bridges that connect the hearts of so many of us, the master species?  

I as of late have been soaking in the warm sincerity of Bon Iver's new self titled cd which comes out the 21st of this month. Justin Vernon's music has been essential to my well-being this past year or so, for though I have had few great triumphs, I have also been defeated and destroyed, time and time again. 

The lyrics from the last song titled beth/rest are gold to me at this time in my life.

        

             

Errant heat to the star
and the rain let in
the hawser rolls, the vessel’s whole and Christ, it’s thin

well Iʼd know that you’d offer
would reveal it, though it’s soft and flat
won’t repeat it, cull and coffer’s that
for the soffit, hang this homeward
pry it open with your love
sending lost and alone standing offers

it is steep / it is stone
such recovery
from the daily press, the deepest nest, in keeper’s keep

all the news at the door
such a revelry
well, it’s hocked inside of everything you said to me

it was found what we orphaned
didn’t mention it would serve us picked
said your love is known
I’m standing up on it

I ainʼt living in the dark no more
it’s not a promise, Iʼm just gonna call it

heavy mitted love

our love is a star
sure some hazardry
for the light before and after most indefinitely

danger has been stole away

This is us