The rhetoric of masculinity and the “sanitation station” at the gym…

~Wednesday~ At the Planet Fitness I go to, I've been observing, what are at once called "sanitation stations" and "cleaning stations," depending on who is giving the tour to prospective new customers. Each station consists of a paper towel dispenser, a caddy holding two spray bottles of disinfectant cleaner, and a trash can. Here's what … Read more

The alphabet workout: “D” is [mostly] for dance, dances, danced, and dancing…

~Sunday~ Welcome to the fifth installment of The Alphabet Workout, which, actually started with the letter K, and then jumped back up to the top of the alphabet. Now down to the letter “D,” here’s what the playlist ended up being today: Song Artist D-I-V-O-R-C-E Tammy Wynette D.W. Washburn The Monkees Daddy Come and Get … Read more

The alphabet workout: “B” is for a buttload of song titles starting with a B

~Friday~ Welcome to the third installment of The Alphabet Workout, which, actually started with the letter K, and then jumped back up to the top of the alphabet. Here's what the playlist ended up being today: Song Artist Boulder to Birmingham Emmylou Harris The Boxer Simon & Garfunkel The Boy Next Door Barbra Streisand Brand … Read more

You’re repeating yourself—or maybe you aren’t

~Friday~ The prodigal porker returned to the gym today. My fatted calf—and my fatted thigh and other parts, for that matter—were like, “WTF?” I had the following short conversation with myself at about 6:00: Superego: How are you going to feel if you don’t go to the gym tonight? Ego: Shitty; down on yourself. Superego: … Read more

A microbial neck sprain, loitering at the gym, and turning laundry a social event…

~Tuesday~  I stepped outside at 8:20 with every intention of hopping in my car and driving over to the Wolfline stop, but decided to take a chance that the city bus was destined to arrive at its mode, 8:22. Not that the concepts of “bus” and “destiny” should ever be conflated. The bus arrived at … Read more