gettin' ripped at the weight room

Today at the weight room (I’m a monitor) I watched Bad Lieutenant, a gritty urban drama. Then, feeling tired, a tried to take a nap. “Too much for you,” I heard. I looked up and mumbled something. I thought, someone’s trying to be sharp with me. But then I realized that the guy was just awkward and nervous. He asked me if I could spot him on the bench press and the leg press. I told him no, on account of my recent surgery.

I tried to nap some more, but it didn’t take. I found a tennis ball and bounced it around. I thought to myself: I wonder if my eye-hand-coordination would get better if I did this for a really long time. I restarted my computer to update vista. In the background, the same guy was grunting and sometimes yelling “fuck!” as he used the leg press. Some other dude with a really long, blond beard and weird big pants was spotting him. It takes all kinds, I guess. Then a little while later the bearded guy left, so I was again asked to spot. “What kind of surgery did you have?” he said to me. I looked at him for a while. There was silence. Finally, I said, “I saw what that other guy was doing, and I can’t do it.”

feelin' good

Today I met with my two new roommates Wade and Gina in Northampton to sign the lease. They both seem like good people. Wade, by the way, is kind of a granola hipster. Maybe I’ll learn a thing or two brewing my own beer.

Afterwards I went to the Green Bean for brunch. I put my name down to get a table for me and my friends. While I waited for them to meet me I sat outside with a cup of coffee and a cigarette. I looked at people walking past through my sunglasses. I was feeling good. I was feeling self-satisfied. It was kind of like being in Paris again, but the people were not dressed as well and the women were not as attractive.

Then I started to feel kind of guilty, and speculated that god was going to smote me with some new malady, like the swine flu or a thrown-out back.