Chronicles of Nardia

Having seen a picture of myself without a shirt on and officially reaching the 200 lb milestone in the same week, I joined a gym yesterday. My first official workout was today. I arrived at Gold's Gym at twenty after six. After being given my shiny new membership card, I headed towards the locker room like I knew what I was doing; like I had been there before. As I awkwardly attempted to coordinate changing into my workout clothes without any articles of work clothing touching the ground (I'm afraid I am a bit of a germaphobe), I realized that when I passed through the entryway of the locker room, I unwittingly exited the back of the wardrobe and entered Nardia. Everywhere I looked; naked old men sauntered around dragging their balls on the floor between their feet. I did my best to keep my eyes off the floor and on the task at hand.

Before reemerging from Nardia, I got an extra light workout in. And by light, I mean I ran two and a half miles and walked one. Didn't want to overdue it on day one only never to return. And so I got on the treadmill, iPid in hand, earphones in ear. One of the best things about John Zorn's music -and about listening to music on headphones in general- is the potential for a fitting or juxtapositional soundtrack to whatever's going on around you. At the Mountains of Madness. Here, today, frenetic Jewish jazz being played like heavy metal was the soundtrack to a brush with fame. That's right. Fame. As a distinctly Jewish passage gave way to frenzied saxophone blowing, who should appear in the fringes of my peripheral vision, slowly walking directly in front of me? Kendrick Perkins.