Sometimes you stick your dick in shit
And sometimes you stick it in heaven.


  1. The Golden Age was born in a snowstorm. Miles accumulated. Ideas hatched, then killed off as infants. Starved to death. Other ideas were gorged and stuffed so full that they nearly exploded, which would have prevented progress. These overdeveloped ideas were eventually abandoned for newer, better ideas.

    The Golden Age was born of the body, and spread to the mind. Clarity achieved, then disrupted. The physical body can do a lot. But the range of our abilities as absolutely as narrow as a pine needle of Colorado. One person can run three miles at a 6:30 mile pace, the other at a 6:50 mile pace. Others yet walk, and others yet run it at a 4:10 pace. This range is infinitely narrow compared to the possibility that exists. Human minds can not comprehend the range, but should strive to appreciate it.

    The Golden Age grew out of infancy at a park and at a bar, known as "park tav." Meaningless experiences masqueraded as the development of something. Meaningless words, in a fog of booze, introduced the protagonists to ugly strippers and beautiful photographers. Sit by the ladies room, and you will see all ladies who pass there. Sit at the bar and eat tacos. Think of the tacos as examples of things in your life that you hate, then pour hot sauce on them and devour their souls. The joke is on you, bud, those tacos have no souls.

  2. Fuck me, that girl Rupee was maybe the hottest girl I have ever spent time talking to (i.e. cowardice).

    Tara, a stunning example, runs 6 miles a day (though I am worried she may be counting miles on a treadmill). Tara will reappear in this story.

    Jamie is a beautiful redhead trapped in a hideous life. Jessica, the stripper, has odd office hours and unhealthy habits.

    Maximin too has examples of womens' names and constructions of situations and events.

  3. The fastest is not always the victor. Think of Percy Cerutty, the trainer of champions. Before the biggest races Cerutty would gather his young runners at the track to watch him run. The old man would run some distance as hard and fast as he possibly could, then collapse across the finish line. He would look up from the cinders, his runners gathered around him, and say to them: "You all can run faster than me. But you will never run harder." With that, his runners said they were relieved of any pre-race pressure they may have had going into the following day's big race.

    Old man Cerutty would not win the race as competition, though he would certainly win the competition of effort. So in all things, do not forget the quality of effort.

  4. The Park Tavern is a modern Mecca. Verily, Denver is in the midst of a Golden Age. Forceful action is at work there. A Golden Age born of the body is as true as they come. To the heroes that are living it, my congratulations and encouragement.

  5. This story of Percy Cerutty has been relayed to me before, on a run, by Maximin. In a dream, really, as a metaphor for life during this Glorious Golden Age.

  6. Then try this story.


    In this case outstanding effort made up for a lack of physical talent and resulted in winning races. The other important point, most important really, is that when you are entirely gassed, dead, ready to collapse from exertion, at that point you actually have 50% left to give.

    Think of that the next time the mountains are stenciling you, or the kettlebell feels like a planet with handles.


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