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Eric Simms
The Earth Is Not a Cold and Dead Place
The Earth Is Not a Cold and Dead Place
Eric's posts

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My last night in Brookline before moving to Fort Hill.
I have been sleeping on the floor for the past week. It has been a surreal experience without my possessions.

One love.

I haven't posted here as of late because life has worked its way into my life. I am getting things done off my list.

Five day visit with my father

Pedal to the metal search for a new place by September first in Boston is like a sport and I achieved that

Continue on my aquatic aerobics class

Continue biking

Work is picking up and will peak next week.

A lady friend.

I opened the door and immediately this person had a, "bad intentions” mystique. I saw the hand reach towards the waist to begin pulling out. My reflexes simultaneous closed the door faster than to see the outcome. Press the door hard with my hand I uttered, “I am not okay with feeling. I am not okay with this place. Take me some place else.”  My manifestation listened. The mystique of the, “bad intentioned” person left and I was safe. 

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Further into Buddhism.

This morning I am dead a sleep. In my sleepy state I hear a hollow distant female voice say, "Eric -- Eric" I thought I heard tapping on my door and than another sound hit the window with an intent to get my attention. At the exact moment I shot out of bed. I immediately thought my roommate was locked out from her morning run automatically pulled my pants on no shirt no glasses snag my keys bolt downstairs expecting to see her in the foyer. Nothing. I don't see her. I walk around the side of the building. Nothing. I walk up the street aways. Nothing. Huh. I went back inside and noticed her door was not cracked open like she leaves it went she does leave for her run. I thought to text her but I didn't want to wake her nor did I want think what just happened happened. I laid back in bed. I finally realized my heart was racing. I can't explain any of this.

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My latest readings is, "Buddhism" by Christmas Humphrey published in 1951. I quickly realized a plethora of new terminology created a mass confusion in my brain. I diligently began taking notes to reign in my comprehension.

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The smell of smoke lingers in my clothing.

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Feats Of Strength

Several months ago I set a goal for myself to obtain 100 extra miles of biking. This week I cracked 100+ miles. As of now I have rode my bike 146 miles in conjunction with my commute.

I commute to work on my bike daily. My combined miles in a week commuting is 40. I probably ride another 40 in recreation. I wanted to exclude my commute to the total goal because that is a given.

How I got there:

I ride 16 miles in exactly an hour (including traffic lights and stop signs and slow downs)

Sunday I rode 58
Monday I relaxed
Tuesday I rode 12
Wednesday I rode 32
Thursday relaxed
Friday I rode 12
Saturday I rode 32*

* I have more to ride.

I am not a goal driven person but something inside me realized this is possible and I wanted to accomplish my own feats of strength.

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Tipper's new album is focused and precise. Let your skin crawl with those juicy beats of static and ticks. 
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