sweat and stuff.


i created and popped a blister within my first 15 minutes of hoop class last night, while spinning a large hoop from hand to hand, around my waist and over my head. it’s raw and red and i am proud of it — and of all my other hoop-related injuries — as proof that i’m working my ass off. at this most recent class, i learned to hoop in the other direction and (sort of) walk around whilst hooping (i look like a spaz while i’m doing it, though; not as all as if i’m groovin’), and i got better at going from hips to over the head and back to hips and whatnot.

i’m thinking of ordering a hoop from loren’s site so i can practice in my parents’ backyard. perhaps of medium size in green & purple. and then, when i become amazing (don’t let’s hold our breath), i will buy an led hoop! perhaps the superhoop!

led hoop.

still, in much the same way that hoop class pumps me up, i’m missing my other wednesday class — callanetics with mom — which stretched me out and relaxed me. i’m wondering if i should alternate from week to week, but i’m afraid to miss out on hoop skill-building opportunities! ::sigh::

in other news, i started reading enrique vila-matas’s montano’s malady yesterday, which i couldn’t get into, but this quote from faulkner caught my eye:

“A book is the writer’s secret life, the dark twin of a man.”

beyond anything truly serious, it made me remember fiction-writing workshops at emerson, where short stories were actually thinly-veiled personal accounts.

but, if faulkner is to be believed, perhaps that’s okay. what better way to lay the deepest parts of yourself out there?


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