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[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[Jorge]

It's a reference to Ulysses

[epilogue]

I don't believe you

[Jorge]

Maybe try reading it sometime

[epilogue]

[epilogue]

I have a race at 7:45 am in Queens tomorrow morning.

Google is telling me it's 24 mins by car (not sure how much it will cost, though). And 1 hour 35 mins by train.

If I take a car I can sleep in a little bit, but I also don't know the cost, nor do I have an exact address for drop off that I'm confident the car can get to.

If I take the train it's essentially free and I know where I'm getting off the train.

What would you do? Lyft/Uber or train it?

[dad]

I have a race at 7:45 am in Queens tomorrow morning.

Google is telling me it's 24 mins by car (not sure how much it will cost, though). And 1 hour 35 mins by train.

If I take a car I can sleep in a little bit, but I also don't know the cost, nor do I have an exact address for drop off that I'm confident the car can get to.

If I take the train it's essentially free and I know where I'm getting off the train.

What would you do? Lyft/Uber or train it?

do both.

i hope that eases your burden.

[doug rr]

car

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[doug rr]

90+ minutes on the subway your legs will tighten up and you might have to poop

[wease]

I have a race at 7:45 am in Queens tomorrow morning.

Google is telling me it's 24 mins by car (not sure how much it will cost, though). And 1 hour 35 mins by train.

If I take a car I can sleep in a little bit, but I also don't know the cost, nor do I have an exact address for drop off that I'm confident the car can get to.

If I take the train it's essentially free and I know where I'm getting off the train.

What would you do? Lyft/Uber or train it?

If I had a race at 7:45am, I'd be inclined towards public transit just as a means of getting my blood moving.

Train. Too many unknown variables with Lyft/Uber.

[epilogue]

90+ minutes on the subway your legs will tighten up and you might have to poop

This is my biggest fear

[wease]

90+ minutes on the subway your legs will tighten up and you might have to poop

This is my biggest fear

That will make you run faster to get the finish so you can unload. You will win the race.

[epilogue]

90+ minutes on the subway your legs will tighten up and you might have to poop

This is my biggest fear

That will make you run faster to get the finish so you can unload. You will win the race.

Solid point

[doug rr]

[epilogue]

doug I swear to god

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[epilogue]

You know your own body better than I do, so I'm convinced Lyft is the way to go.

Doug's absolutely revolting jpg may or may not have swayed me here.

I've already taken preemptive Imodium just in case.

[wease]

My god doug

[wease]

You know your own body better than I do, so I'm convinced Lyft is the way to go.

Doug's absolutely revolting jpg may or may not have swayed me here.

I've already taken preemptive Imodium just in case.

Oh no! Now you’ll be backed up and the extra weight will slow you down!