I ran around the Kensington/Port Rich/Fishtown periphery yesterday, Easter Sunday, about a 5-mile trek along Aramingo, Lehigh and Front, no big deal, and let me tell you the crazies were out in full effect. My theory is that the holidays, especially the old religions ones cloaked with obscene blasts of spectacle and color, tend to bring out the worst in people, or if not the worst then the pain which might've been bubbling just under the surface for a long long time. I ran by a screaming woman, barefoot outside an Exxon and she did what looked like downward dog but it wasn't real yoga and I couldn't hear her because I was blaring 10cc's The Original Soundtrack at max volume on my ~$7 Panasonic earbuds (highly recommended btw). I videotaped this event and thusly have the visual evidence and could examine what she was hollering about––if said hollering was at all coherent––but I don't know if I should watch the video. My LIFECAST.INFO has hit a predictable snag, but not so jagged/harsh that I feel like giving up. I will rise again, much like Señor Jesus. The fate of this woman though, both in life and in my future in the arts, is uncertain.

The fact that I was present to run at all on this day of days might also be noteworthy: my dog is ill. While the rest of the family drove to New Jersey for some festivities, I took watch over our loyal, excitable pup Franklin, an 8-year-old jet black mutt. His stomach ain't right. He needed to be let out on the hour, every hour, and I won't get into the particulars of canine diarrhea, especially in a big city with no nearby (private) wooded/grassy areas. It's not exactly an Easter egg hunt.

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