Notes After a Night Jog

(Banned Nike chainsaw commercial. This scared the shit outta me as a kid when it aired!) Going for a night jog takes on a sinister tone after viewing back to back slashers. Electrified by the night air: I'm the Last Girl. I'm staying alert for looming shadows as I brush past the neighbors' shrubbery. Imagination is kinetic and things seem more sinister. Why is horror? It's like exercise, a late capitalist invention. From Victorian times, so I'm aging myself. Faking survival, feigning control. My brain is splayed by feminist critiques of body and space. Are there other juxtapositions of gender, horror, and exercise?