Finished goal of running the distance of 2,080 miles from Lafayette, LA to Washington D.C and back!!! 339.1 miles

0.0 miles run this week.
Daily running average for the week is 0.00 miles per day.
Total amount run in the past 800 days is 2,419.1 miles.
Daily running average overall is 3.02 miles per day.

Day346 Wednesday 08/10/11

ran 3.9 miles

Did you write the book of love,
And do you have faith in God above,
If the bible tells you so?
Do you believe in rock n roll,
Can music save your mortal soul,
And can you teach me how to dance real slow?

Well, I know that you’re in love with him
‘cause I saw you dancin’ in the gym.
You both kicked off your shoes.
Man, I dig those rhythm and blues.

I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck
With a pink carnation and a pickup truck,
But I knew I was out of luck
The day the music died.

In a flat-black room of concrete and echoes, Jonas sat in a plain metal chair. Crimson red flakes were matted on his nose and lips. His eyebrows were pressed with blood. In front of him was a single, continuous pane of glass framed within an inescapable structure of re-bar, aggregate and cement.

“Concrete,” Jonas had thought to himself. “I must talk without talking for now.”

Jonas lifted his battered body out of his cold chair and stood. Blood was still dripping out of his left nostril. His plain white t-shirt was now red. He ran, all of a sudden, into the elongated window like an elephant attempting to head-butt a skyscraper.

The window paid no acknowledgment to his effort. Jonas froze in pain for a moment. What sense he still had left afforded him no profitable rationale.

“Tell them nothing,” he had mumbled to himself. “Tell them nothing,” he repeated over and over in his head like a hatter.

“Jonas Martin Cassidy, You have been deemed treasonous by the NorthAmeriCanaDexican Government. What have you to say?”

He had hesitated and then responded, “A bear and the pope walk into the woods…”

He had laughed to himself, further sputtering blood onto his red t-shirt. The humor and the self-defeat of the situation had put a sardonic smile on his face. “One says to the other…”

A fist came from out of nowhere shocking Jonas in his right temple sending him stumbling to his left and crashing into a wall, slowly sliding down to the floor.

“Jonas Martin Cassidy, we don’t think you understand the severity of your circumstances. Your life is in jeopardy as pertains to your actions and words. You have done nothing yet but make a fool of yourself and a mockery of everything you wrongly believe in.”

“I am guilty of nothing.“ Those words were all Jonas could utter and they were hardly audible or coherent as he was nearly unconscious and completely beaten and exhausted.

“I am guilty of being free.”

Jonas was now unconscious. Many in the room thought he may have been dead. But his mind went on quietly above the words of his interrogator.

“I only want to live. I want to be challenged. I want opportunities like the ones our old country, America, once gave everyone who sought something worth fighting for. You are the government. You are the enemy. Your deceit and destructive legislation, not for and against the people, you behind the glass, in the dark, hidden away and out of touch,…you! Ask me anything you want to know and I swear I won’t tell you!”

These words went unheard, aired only in the subconscious of Jonas’ battered and unconscious body.

“His antics will not last for long. There are others among us who would have him tortured and killed for his deviance, alone. I think we still have use for him. Clean him up and keep him alive.”

Jonas suddenly stirred with one last stroke of cognizance. “Show me your face so I can at least die knowing I beat you and your lies! Show me your face! Show me your face!”

“I pity you Jonas Martin Cassidy. You are a waste of intelligence. You chose the wrong side.” A set of black boots slowly strutted toward Jonas. Everything went black again.

I started singin’
“Bye, Bye Miss American Pie.”
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
And singin’ “This’ll be the day that I die.
This’ll be the day that I die.”

1,052.9 miles to go.

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