the only thing that really feels good lately is shooting a basketball. i don't have to sleep it off. i don't have to exercise it off. in fact i can skip a day if i want. but when i have time, i do it. it's best when there's no one around. i start getting hot and imagine someone looking on, 'man, that guy's fighting something.' i push myself to exhaustion. i've been on this course for a good two months. i feel my chemicals balancing. my fingers still, back straighter, eyes brighter, hair stronger. yet broken and sad. but in this park, alone with ball and hoop, i am able to completely enjoy solitude. and it feels better than many a company. it's a conversation, a dance, a flirtation; it leaves me dizzy. the next day, it's there again! put on the radio, stretch, short range, mid range, off the left pivot, off the right pivot, fade away repertoire, stop and pop, long range and coast. the last half hour i just coast. my mind trying to work out chaotic things while i methodically dribble and shoot. i remember years ago, i lay for a couple of days crying in bed at a friends house, after i had just quit school. she finally came in and threw my shoes and ball at me saying, 'go, (with quote, unquote finger motions) play,' and left for work. i remember a year of working doubles at the restaurant, getting off at 11, playing basketball alone at the gym till 2 in the morning and coming home smelling like spaghetti sauce, booze, weed and sweat to a house of partying selfish strangers. every time i've ever moved, within a day i would find a basketball court. and i must say, i've been lucky. within a block both times in san bruno, around the corner in mountain view, two blocks away in sunnyvale, two blocks in san mateo, a block and a half in daly city and three and a half blocks in berkeley. these short distances kept me out complete seclusion. out of therapist's intimately lit offices that charge so much it's cheaper to stay in bed, cry and not eat for two days. out of yoga studios with people who have no soul, no use for one, but want yours anyway. out of dance floors where free-love and acceptance flows hazily alongside bargain-hunting and limited liability partnership. out of lover's beds that are so cold and selfish that it'd be saner to forgive and forget. makes me want to shoot some more baskets. and finally get some real sleep.

up next time: belligerent rants about the dalai lama, guru-led-non-emotive-soviet-purge-like sex fraternities, doggie and kitty dating services, thieving ex-millitary squatters, spaced out hippies, and other social maladies.