hands, gel, Bradbury

A curious discussion on what people do with their hands as they sleep necessitates Cake's When You Sleep. Asuka's dad apparently fell asleep on the beach once with his hands on his chest, imparting the outlines of his hands around his pecs. Discussion ensued. My own hands are curled around a pillow or bent around my head. You?

Poll: what are you favorite energy gel/gu flavors? i tend towards fruit, not spiced. i know Kelly AT and Patricia like the apple cinnamon hammer gel. Any suggestions? This becomes relevant due to long bike rides.

Ray Bradbury is no longer with us. A friend posted a note on FB, "Goodbye, Mr. Bradbury"; immediate sharp inhalation, dash by the NY Times to confirm. i told my friend Katherine that it's how you know when you're an adult: you childhood heroes die. Bradbury's Dandelion Wine is a filter through which i view the Midwest (like McCarthy's depictions of the southern border of America are a bit of a mirror for home). His use of breathless imagery is, in my opinion, the most notable thing one gets from his writing. One of my favorite accounts of running is a passage from Dandelion Wine ( warning, it downloads a pdf, which also appears in R Is For Rocket) describing the way new shoes feel: "The boy looked down at his feet deep in the rivers, in the fields of wheat, in the wind that already was rushing him out of the town. He looked up at the old man, his eyes burning, his mouth moving, but no sound came out.

"Antelopes?" said the old man, looking from the boy's face to his shoes. "Gazelles?"

The boy thought about it, hesitated, and nodded a quick nod. Almost immediately he vanished. He just spun about with a whisper and went off. The door stood empty. The sound of the tennis shoes faded in the jungle heat.

Mr. Sanderson stood in the sun-blazed door, listening. From a long tune ago, when he dreamed as a boy, he remembered the sound. Beautiful creatures leaping under the sky, gone through brush, under trees, away, and only the soft echo their running left behind.

"Antelopes," said Mr. Sanderson. "Gazelles." "