Paul McCartney, Vegetarians Hate You

I Twittered about this earlier, but I feel more attention (and annoyance) is due.

In a news article I read today (http://tinyurl.com/6agvs4) Paul McCartney "lashed out" at the Dalai Lama for not being strictly vegetarian.  I remember reading somewhere that Paul and his whole brood suddenly went insanely vegetarian after watching one of their kids play with the family lamb in the back yard.  "Holy crap!" Paul said, "We eat stuff like that cute lil' lamb our daughter is frolicking with!" and poof!  Annoying vegetarians were born.  I also remember reading that His Holiness (or H.H. as we call him around the poker table) eats meat half of the year due to health problems, as prescribed by medical professionals.

For the record, I'm a staunch vegetarian.  I get upset when people who eat fish and seafood call themselves vegetarians.  Grab a dictionary, assholes:

–noun
1. a person who does not eat or does not believe in eating meat, fish, fowl, or, in some cases, any food derived from animals, as eggs or cheese, but subsists on vegetables, fruits, nuts, grain, etc.

I've been vegetarian for about four or five years now.  It's pretty cool, it works out for me.  Is it for everyone?  Probably not.  Do I go around slapping wieners and beef out of people's hands and mouths?  No.  Do I have a megaphone with a big MEAT IS MURDER sticker on it constantly blaring my high-pitched tirades against all you heartless meat munchers?  No.  It's not my place.  It's not anyone's place to tell anyone else how to live, unless you happen upon an obviously pregnant woman about to do some crack.  I take great care to make sure I don't become one of Those Vegetarians who feel the need to preach their dietary choices to anyone who crosses their path.  I give Kasey shit every once in a while, but it's all in good fun.  I learned years ago not to go around preaching my personal crap to people.

So it really bugs me that this senile prick of an old man who just happened to be popular FORTY YEARS AGO for dicking around on a guitar is on the Dalai Lama's balls to go meatless.  Hey buddy, he gets it okay?  You don't roll up to a fireman and go, "HEY MAN, BETTER BE CAREFUL WITH MATCHES AND GASOLINE HURR HURR"  He fucking knows already.  Kinda like how the spiritual leader of Tibet knows that eating meat isn't in line with Buddhist philosophy.  Ever since he was two years old he's known it.  H.H. doesn't need your melted face up in his grill telling him his business.

"[The Dalai Lama] replied saying that his doctors had told him he needed it, so I (Paul McCartney) wrote back saying they were wrong."  Yeah, cuz you're a doctor.  And not even just A doctor, HIS doctor.  You have done his examinations and are intimate with the details of his health and physiology.  Memorizing the health benefits of a vegetarian diet (of which there are plenty) does not qualify you to make medical decisions about other people, especially in such a dickish way.

So I'd like to say on behalf of the Vegetarians against Assholes Group (or VAG for short), that you suck Paul McCartney, and stop giving us a bad name.  Go join Ringo and beat up some cancer kid who wants your autograph or something.

 - David

Bitchin'

I'm slightly grumpy this morning.

Last night one of my new neighbors, who appears to either be young and dumb and just out of college or young and dumb and in the Navy, decided the washer and dryer were his personal domain and left clothes in both all night long. In fact when I left this morning they were still in there. So after waiting later than I should have, I decided to use the facilities on a nearby floor. I was out of work clothes, my bike clothes were a tad musty from the rain, and I wanted to look nice for the doctor appointment today, so I basically had to do laundry.

It wasn't a big load, just a pair of pants, socks and undies, a few shirts, my sweatshirt and my cycling shoes. Not even enough to fill the washer halfway up. Apparently that meager amount of clothes was too much for the dryer though, as after forty-five minutes of burnin' and turnin' my crap was still damp. By this time it was nearly Eleven at night and I didn't have time to put them in again. So whatever, they weren't wet or anything and the stuff I needed in the morning would probably dry out by then.

Then I couldn't sleep. As a bit of advice from me to you: Don't watch an awesome, exciting, addicting show like House when you're trying to go to sleep. Eventually I did slip off to dreamy land, but not anywhere near enough to get my butt out of bed to make the bus by 5:30. So I had to drive, which is a bit annoying in itself even on good days. Which I suppose is fine since I'm only working a half-day and heading the doctor's right after.

But there was a "disabled" vehicle in the tunnel, so I was about twenty minutes late today. A disabled vehicle in the tunnel is a nice way of saying that some dickhead ran out of gas or tried to change lanes and wrecked or was somehow incapable of driving in a straight line for less than half a mile, and then some government employee has to roll out a tow truck and clear the blockage. For the amount of traffic that drives through the tunnel it doesn't happen that often, but often enough.

And now, apparently, I'm in the Marine queues. I don't yet have my administrative account on the Marine Corps side of the network so I have to get someone to lean me their account on a lot of the fixes I need to do. This is annoying and takes time. But Marines are usually nicer and easier for me to talk to than Navy folk, so it's not all bad.

But on the Good Stuff side of the spectrum, I only have two hours left. I got my arm and leg warmers from Solocc.com last night, and they are awesome. I get to spend the rest of the day with my honeyface. I have pastries. Guess it ain't all bad, as long as I can get my sugar I'll make it through.

- David

Fackin' Buses

Today I hate buses.

This morning while doing my daily Sprint de Busstop I approached an intersection at the same time as an HRT bus coming from the opposite direction. I'm in the far-right lane going to turn right, and the bus is in the turning lane, set to enter the same street as me. I have the green light and I'm traveling faster than the bus. My bright-ass Knog light is blink-bliking, my vest is red and has reflective bits, there are working street lights all around. I can see the bus driver's face.

I'm looking at the driver, he's apparently looking at me. At this point I haven't indicated with hand gestures or smoke signals or body language that I'm turning. For all he knows I'm going straight on through the intersection. My light is still green, not yellow or red.

As I approach the crosswalk lines at speed, suddenly he accelerates and begins to turn right in front of me. I'm making a face at him (that he probably couldn't see, he was looking into the turn) like, "What the fuck, man? I thought we had an understanding." Had I been going straight and not looking right at the bus I would have run smack into it, or under it. I had to brake moderately hard and turn down my intended street, and still I ended up close alongside the bus about 3/4 down it's length.

Now, I did not signal my turn because I wasn't crossing any lanes and the bus was the only other vehicle on the road. Plus I believe legally I had the right of way and, silly me, I expected a city bus to respect that. It wouldn't have made any difference, the bus would have cut me off either way. In fact if I hadn't been turning it could have been wose as I may have been going faster and been in the middle of the intersection or unprepared to turn as Mr. Buspants decided to cut Y.T. off. 5:27am is way too early to be dodging buses and avoiding crushity death.

I've had an HRT bus push me into another lane before, and that was scarier, probably because I was still new to the commuting world and those rear-engine buses sneak up on you. But this was just angering. Probably because I always background-expect shit like this to happen. I need to start keeping my u-lock within reach and tapping on windows and shit, get me some respect. Or some missing teeth...

At any rate, bike rack was full today. I biked home, laid down for twenty minutes, then drove it in. I'm just going to start using a bus stop further down the route, or hitching it through the tunnel. I wish I could go around HRT all together. Except for the ferry. I love the ferry.

Today is my Friday, I'm ready for it. Take me.

- David

Simple Pleasures

Ask my girlfriend and she'll tell you that I'm an almost annoyingly laid back guy. People are rude to me, I don't react. I get cut off in traffic, I just make a bad face. Some dick in an SUV is a dick in a SUV, and I just shake my head. If she had it her way, I'd be U-lockin' and jaw-clockin' all day long. But I'm not. I get upset, sure, but not enough to honk or hit or take out a side-mirror.

But yesterday was tough. I haven't been sleeping real well since Sunday and got something like four hours, maybe, before I had to get my ass to work. Work was steady and I just wasn't into it. After work I was background-surly. I had woken up late due to lack of sleep and went back on my promise to public-trans every day this month. I was reminded of this as I biked the mile to the parking lot Kasey's car sat in, possibly with a pink parking ticket fluttering between windshield and wiper blade.

No ticket, but getting out of the parking lot was like trying to get down the isle of a Wal-Mart during a Black Friday moo-moo sale. I don't know how people survive each other. And speaking of, there was a bad wreck on Hampton before the bridge, and traffic was either filtering past the fire engines one lane at a time or taking the only available detour. I took the detour, after watching a FedEx van four-wheel it over the median to get into the turning lane. I got mildly lost a few times, and it seemed to take forever to get home. Finally in the Downtown Tunnel, I fought powerful surges of intense anger and hatred when the minivan in front of me kept hitting it's brakes for no reason discernible by man or god. I don't usually get disturbed to the point of physical reaction, but I found myself almost flipping out all over the steering wheel and yelling through the windshield. When that happens I know it's bad. But telling myself I was almost back in my beloved Olde Towne and soon I'd be home with food and a warm Kasey, I managed to maintain.

After feeling like a piece of old grey poop all day long, I suddenly found myself feeling better in the middle of dinner. And not just better as in, "Well, I guess I won't kill myself just yet…" but better as in, "Mmm, life is good. I feel like humpin'!" Eating is one of those things that has always had a profound effect on me, and I'm sure having my lovely lady make me grilled cheese and tomato soup was a big part of it. By the time I was finishing off the last of the cobbler and eating a huge bowl of ice cream life was back in balance and I was myself again.

Which got me to thinking: Am I that simple-minded? Am I like some crying child that can be bought off with a lollipop and something shiny waved in front of my face? Am I that easy to bribe? Yes. Yes I am. But is that so bad? It seems the older we get the more complex and fantastical a situation has to be to please us. This feels like a step in the wrong direction, to me. I've long had the philosophy that the more it takes for you to be happy, the less happy you'll be. Back in the day man, all it took was a piece of candy or a snow day or basket with a rope tied to it (true story, pleased three boys of varying ages for days) and you were livin'. Now, it seems like it takes a complex set of events that rival a shuttle launch to get that same kind of pleasure, and even then it's short lived.

I don't know how this happens. I think somewhere in the middle we get caught up in constructing more and more elaborate structures in all areas of life, or maybe we become desensitized through neglect to the simple and easy things. I am a pretty childish person, which is probably why sweets and other childish things amuse me so. And it seems that as a person grows old, they take more joy in simple pleasures again, possibly learning that the big stuff is a pain or maybe just because they're too tired for it anymore, or both. I dunno, I haven't been old yet.

Whatever the reason, I need to make a conscious effort to take joy in whatever comes my way. Else I'll find myself standing over the remains of some poor guy's rear windshield asking him if he sees what happens when he doesn't use his turning signal, or having a stroke at the ripe old age of twenty-seven.

Take care, you princesses of Maine, you kings of New England.

- David

Any pictures you see in this blog that don't suck are not taken by me, and I am not taking credit for them. I always link the image to the photographer's web page.

Remiss You

Werk Entry

I have been remiss.  I have been busy.  I  have been buried.  I have been lazy.  I'm sorry.  I haven't blogged, I haven't called, I haven't communicated with anyone past the carry of my pretty little voice, with the exception of a few spurious e-mails between the gal and I.

It's been interesting, being without a cell phone.  Generally it agrees with me, but I'm getting a phone card tonight so I can reach out to friends and family and soon either a land line will be installed (almost a novelty) or the cell phones will be resurrected.  I know how my old woman worries when I'm out and about on the bike without a way to be contacted.

Presently I'm e-mailing this in from work between phone calls and reboots.  Work is the reason I've been incommunicado, as well as that which will allow me to be con communicado again.  Mandatory overtime for months is a mixed blessing.  I think I'm getting used to it, as long as I get two days off.  For a couple of weeks I only had one day off, then back on for six more fun-filled, 10 hour shifts.  But it is allowing me to crawl out of the hole I'm currently in.  I just hope it ends soon.  I'd rather slowly crawl out of this money pit and take a nap or two along the way than jump out of it and land a grumpy, tired, malcontent on the other side.

Fall is here, just today.  The weather feels like it, too.  Soon I'll have to change my change of clothes for the ride home.  Kasey's new Starbucks opened today as well, just outside our neighborhood.  She's been walking every day and shift-managering like a pro.  My little Kasey, starting off as shift manager in a brand new store which is bound to be busy and successful.  *sniff sniff* I'm so proud!  And avoiding internal combustion too!

Lately instead of browsing channels we browse the book store, and always come away with something new or a title added to our lists of future reading.  I have two books with me at all times, and whether it's the biological history of the human body, another David spending two years by a pond, ancient Chinese secrets, or the story of a French submissive, I'm kept in good company.  I should have been a book reviewer, or perhaps the person who writes the crappy story summations on the flaps and backs of new novels.

Kasey and I just finished reading the same book at the same time, which something I had always wanted to do.  One of the character's internal thinking matched mine to a surprising degree, despite the fact that she's fictional, Canadian, and a middle-aged woman.  I've read characters I would like to be, and characters I've shared isolated quarks with, but never one who thought as I did.  Margaret Atwood knows lives; I can see now why Kasey loves her.  Currently for me it's Walden (which I am enjoying immensely on many levels; that guy, is a genius) and Story of O, which is a dirty, dirty book.  But it's pretty damn good too.  I found it in Barnes and Noble's "eclectic classics" section and was sold after the first ten pages.  Let us just say they contained a lot of wieners, and there wasn't no BBQ.  It's very interesting to read such things in a writing style that is very proper, girlish, and shy.

One hour to go, I can make it.  Take care.

 - David

Stuff & Yeah

A pretty cute commercial, whether you're a bike dork or not.

So stuff has been going okay. Work has picked up since my sups have "progressed" me, which basically means I'm cleared to take more types of calls than I was before. So instead of being able to read a couple pages between calls now I can take a couple breaths. This also means that instead of bright, shiny new users who are polite I'm taking calls from people who are upset that their shit is broken. It gives me lots of opportunities to practice patience, acceptance, and fake politeness.

I had a race last night after Critical Mass, put on by local biker and photo-grapher Wes. The $5 entry fee went to the SPCA and the racers went on a seven mile loop through Downtown Norfolk and Ghent in roughly the shape of Hello Kitty's head, which also adorns the spoke card. I was most excited for the pre-race track stand competition, which I did pretty well in. Top three got to start three minutes early, and after we could only use one hand the number dropped quickly and myself and two other guys got to take off ahead of the pack. Not that it did me any good, I still came in fifth place. I feel that I'm a decent enough rider, but I tend to get turned around or take circuitous routes when I'm on my own. As soon as I know the streets as well as my fellow racers I'll do a lot better.

My one self-consolation is that I beat out another rider in a dead sprint to the finish. It's one thing to finish an entire race before someone, but to be neck and neck at the end and pull ahead is a pretty cool feeling. He had a good burst of speed but couldn't keep the sprint up, which is really the hardest part. Another fun part was wrecking into Kurtz on the way to the bar and somehow unclipping from both pedals, hopping off the bike as it somersaulted under and away from me, and landing perfectly on one foot, hitting the ground running as it were.

Racing up Church Street was especially fun, cutting through traffic and running red lights (always with care) like I was a seventeen-inch wide ambulance. During races one finds oneself doing things one would curse at other cyclists for if it was any other day of the week, such as riding between lanes of traffic or between traffic and the curb and ignoring signs, lights, and one-way streets. But hey, it's a race. It's not any other day of the week. I'm a respectable enough rider the rest of the time, and even when I'm not I don't get in anyone's way. And I always make sure to at least have the outlines of an escape plan if shit goes south. Even if that plan involves possibly rolling across the hood of a parked car or taking my chances in oncoming traffic.

Kasey has been working two jobs, one at Panera and the other training at Starbucks. A new one is opening right outside of our tiny neighborhood and Kasey got hired there, which is fantastic. She loves working for Starbucks and she won't have to drive out to Virginia Beach and back every day, which is like a raise in itself. You could walk there in ten minutes or so. Monday is her last day as a double-jobber and I'm proud of her for staying at Panera so long, even after she got hired at Starbucks. Let's just say her soon-to-be previous employer wasn't exactly up to her standards.

Also, although 98% of you won't know what I'm talking about and the other 1.9% won't care, I now have a perfect town in Animal Crossing on my Nintendo DS. What is Animal Crossing? It's a game that's hard to explain and even harder to justify to your friends. You basically live in a little town with other non-player characters and do things like fish, catch bugs, plant trees and flowers, write letters, decorate your house (which you pay off your mortgage on to upgrade), etc. This game for me is epitome of Japanese game making: Simple, weird, adorable, and somehow addicting. Anyway, if you get the perfect balance of trees and flowers in half or more of your acres then your town is "perfect". I needed to pass some time, so I mapped out my entire town on a grid and got every acre to be prefect. If I can keep it so for two weeks I get a golden watering can. Why? To grow golden roses of course! Yeah, I know. But it took time and effort and I feel I've accomplished something.

With that confession of nerdiness, I'm outtie. Have a safe Labour Day (as they'd say across the water) and for those of you who follow my Twitters and such: I'm alive, I'm well and moving around, I just can't text for a bit. I'll check in when I can.

Bonzai!

- David

God Damn Cyclists

And I mean that sincerely.

You know how certain people get about certain movies/music/books they really, really like? How if other people hate them, then they're just retarded retards anyway. And if other people like them, then they're poser douchebag dickheads? Yeah, that's how I am with cycling lately.

Before, my love of cycling was a lot more accepting in nature: "You ride bikes too?! Then you are my brother and can do no wrong." Now it's much more, "Fucking cyclists! Get the fuck off the sidewalk/road/face of the Earth!" This thought goes through my head even if I'm currently on a bike. Why this sudden change? I think it has a lot to do with the fact that I can't get my sorry ass to work without leaving my bike locked to a fence at some bus stop because rusty, mis/disused, hobo-ghetto bicycles are always filling up the racks. And the recent proliferation of inexperienced cyclists out on the road doing shit like riding down the wrong side of the road and nearly killing me, themselves, and my faith in man in the process.

Give me the cold days, the rainy days, the shitty weather days over a nice sunny day. At least then I don't have to worry about some pasty office worker in spandex on a beach cruiser fucking with my chi. Good weather brings out the Good Weather Riders, which have about as much experience on a bike in traffic as I do on a donkey under water. It's not that they're intrinsically stupid (actually, there's a good chance they are) it's mostly that they have no idea what the hell they are doing. Imagine me, David the blogger, deciding to try being a rodeo clown. I go out into the pit or whatever the hell it's called, and then wrap a blanket over my head and proceed to stumble about. I may get lucky and keep all my plasma inside my body, but more likely than not I'm going to get myself and somebody else hurt. That's what I see when a person who only bikes on "nice days" goes by: A rodeo clown with a blanket over their head, who doesn't even have the decency to wear those huge clown pants so I can be spared the intimate details of their saggy anatomy.

Now all Asshole Elitism aside, I do like people riding bikes. It makes me happy to see people happy as they pedal along, enjoying the breeze and the smooth exercise. But if you're going to do it, do it right. Know the rules of the road, right-of-way, and traffic laws, so that when you ignore them it can at least be a conscious decision and maybe done correctly enough to not cause any misfortune. As for my own part, I read and I read and I read until I figured I couldn't read anymore. Then I rode to work for two days and read a whole bunch more I discovered I didn't know. I'm still doing that to this day.

But don't be fooled, you can't learn how to navigate the dangerous and sexy Metal Stream of Traffic from blogs and books. It has to be done before you can know how to do it. Just like porkin'. You are going to fuck up and you are going to piss off motorists and other cyclists alike along the way. Hell, I'm sure I do it every time I saddle up. But as experience grows you fuck up less, and the fuck ups become more slight, and then before you know it you're only pissing motorists off on purpose. (Actually that's a lie, there's no way to not piss off motorists, on a bike or not.)

When it gets cold again I'm sure my tune will change. People find ways to get where they're going inside shiny happy vehicles when the temperature drops and forget all thought of biking. Even motorists are a bit more tolerant when it's twelve degrees outside or raining gallon-droplets on your head. Then I'll be all excited to see a fellow cyclist out on the road and my brotherly love will come flooding back until the seasons change yet again and a new flood of n00bs arrives.

But then again, I'm sure there's someone out there who views Y.T. in exactly the same light.

- David

Ketchup

Macaframa from MACAFRAMA on Vimeo

I love Macaframa. At the beginning of the above video I figured some kind of bunny hop action would happen, but I should have known it wouldn't be that simple. I'm totally gonna try this now (and eat shit in the process.)

Speaking of surprises on bicycles, I had a few good ones this week. I dunno if it's the weather or what, but people are being assholes again. For a while there I wasn't getting honked at, yelled at, gestured at, nothing. When I first started cycling I got yelled at weekly for about a month or two. This could very well be due to the fact that I was just starting out and I wasn't doing shit correctly or smoothly. But also, it was this time last year that I started, so maybe it is the weather.

At any rate, yesterday I was slowly partaking of the sidewalk to get around a mess on Granby (which is a narrow two-way street in downtown Norfolk) caused by a power company truck blocking one lane and a city bus trying to get around it while on-comming traffic tried to decide if it was going to stop and let it or not. I was rolling along at about jogging speed or slower and I came upon your typical teen/twenties guy: Backwards fitted baseball cap, long shorts, and t-shirt by some bad that probably sucks. I was preparing a line to go around him when he turned his head, saw me, and moved over well before I was near him. I appreciated it and said "Thanks!" as I rolled by, but before the word was even out of my mouth he says something like, "...the fuck where you're going." Ooookay. I'm already gone by the time I register what people have said to me so I just ride on. Maybe I startled him and he was trying to compensate.

On Wednesday when I decided to take on the hill I've been avoiding lately, I had the pleasure of getting gassed by a pickup truck spraying mosquito poison. It had a sign on the back that warned people to stay back 100 feet and here I am, out in the world, not surrounded by my own little bubble of AC and filtered air, getting sprayed. The scariest thing somehow was that the cloud of whatever it was coming out of the back of that thing tasted slightly minty. Luckily after a few blocks the truck turned down a side street. Then the hill came. I was all jazzed to stand up and get some good burn going and had just started to do so when I noticed a cyclist in the bike lane ahead of me. A second or two later I realize he's coming down the hill.

One of the things I hate more than anything are cyclists who don't know what the fuck they're doing riding on the wrong side of the road. I'm not even going to wait and play that game where we hesitate and then both move into each other's path again. I start looking over my shoulder to see when the SUVs and rice rockets in the lane directly next to me will be gone so I can get over. Finally an SUV from Idaho gets over for me and I'm able to get out of the path of the angry black man barreling down on me.

Now, in my mind I'm going, "Fucker, you're on the wrong side of the road!" but we're going too fast and I don't like to be a dick unless it's part of some role playing me and my girl are currently enjoying, so I don't say anything. However as we get close he raises his fist and yells in my face "Get the fuck over!" Right. This doesn't even bother me like the kid on the sidewalk sorta does because obviously I did get over and I'm 100% in the right here. Which is really what people care about above all else. In a world run by rules I dictate, he would have said "Thanks for getting over!" because he had no where to go but into direct traffic or somehow hop up over the tall curb and onto the sidewalk.

Not all surprises were bad however, as I randomly ran into someone I knew while we were both on bikes. This may happen to a lot of you cyclists out there, but for me, it never does. I guess I'm always going a specific somewhere instead of "hanging out" and that lowers the probability of a chance encounter. As I waited for traffic I saw a guy named Wes go by, who's pretty much responsible for Critical Mass here, and decided to chase him. I caught up with him after a few lights and had to yell to get his attention as he was listening to music. We chatted a bit navigating through Downtown and then parted ways as he was on his way to work. It was weird to see him on a bike that wasn't his tandem or attached to a trailer with his kid in it.

On my way home a guy on the sidewalk asked me how much my bike weighed while I waited for a light. He asked if I was a messenger (I did not have my bag, so there) and I of course said no. But man, that would be pretty awesome, if for no other reason than I love riding bikes, it's fun to be outside, and sitting on my ass all day in front of a computer is getting old. Maybe one day. I wouldn't turn it down.

- David

It's Not Like In The Movies

It never is. It's never as simple or clear-cut. It's never as resolved.

I'm too much of a softy for my own episode finale.

- David

Exhile

Woo! This is my 500^th blog post!

Sorry I ain't been around more. Four weeks of finding a job and then two weeks before my first paycheck has taken it's disabling toll and now I have no phone and no Internet. Although for the time being I can still receive calls. Six days 'till payday! Hopefully that means six days until the restoration of my communication services. I'm lightly considering pilgrimages to the local coffee shoppe to partake of their Internet only.

Things have been okay. I'm trying to be a better Buddhist. What does that mean to a whitey in the big city? Reading my old teacher, mindfulness when I remember (ha!), and meditation on the bus. Apparently I'm full of bitter anger and despair. Who knew? Beneath this Peeps-ish exterior lies something not as sweet or fluffy. I'm working on it, it's a road not a destination, it's all in the process, etc, etc, ad naseum.

I finished The Road. It was awesome. Did I cry? Yes. Was it worth it? Fo sho. I highly recommend it.

Be safe, the weather seems weird all over.

- David

Love/Hate

I love Tom Waits. I hate that I won't be able to see him this time around. Anyone have some quick money they can float me?

Tom Waits is my religion.

- David

Watch the whole thing, the end is great.

Pussin' Out

Macaframa from MACAFRAMA on Vimeo
Seriously. Today I was pitiful on a bicycle. Unlike any of the fine peeps you see in Macaframa videos.

Perhaps my suckiness was due to getting up ass-balls early, or the lack of any water for the entire day. Bad diet? Poor constitution? The heat? It doesn't really matter. In the end, it was just plain horrible.

Hampton Blvd suuucks for bike traffic. But unfortunately I have to take it for a few miles on the way home for work. It's an unsafe road, especially during traffic. And I'm used to traveling along Virginia Beach Blvd! But in the week I've been taking Hampton I've had more angry buzz-bys than in months of my old commute.

So I've opted for a kind of shortcut. I catch the bus for a few miles until I can get on the calmer, gentler Colley Ave and then bike from there. I could argue that I'm being safer, but a small part of me feels like I'm copping out. Whatever. It makes my commute more enjoyable.

Anyways, today I missed the bus by forty seconds. As far as this little piggy can tell they come every thirty minutes. I couldn't decide if I wanted to wait until 5:15-ish (traffic was looking really backed up, which is also why I was late) or just suck it up and bike it. I reluctantly decided just to pedal home, not wanting to get home super late. Also, I was antsy and didn't want to stand around in the heat.

Head wind + three lanes + full traffic + angry commuters = So Not Fun. I can taste the exhaust most days. A few miles in I pulled into a parking lot and decided to just wait for the bus. I was cranky and didn't feel like dealing with people's roadrage bullshit.

While I was waiting and staring disdainfully at the constant stream of traffic, what did I spy coming down the lane but a thick woman on a bicycle. "Motherfuck," I thought. There I was admitting defeat when this lady on a commuter with panniers, biker shorts, and a bright green jersey is sticking it out like a pro. Sigh.

So I manned up and got behind her. I think she was probably a little put off by this kid on a fixed gear following her for about six miles. And not only that! After a few miles I tried to get in front of her to take my turn blocking the wind (in the industry we refer to this as "pulling") but she either didn't want to keep up or misunderstood my intentions.

I get a good distance between us as I (attempt) to sprint up the bridge and then the fabulous traffic on Hampton decided not to let me get into the left lane so I can get into calmer seas. Fack. I take the next right off of Hampton so that I can catch a light or something and navigate a break in the traffic to get to my road. But wait! There's a god damned grass median in the way! Lordy.

After sprinting through a short hole in the line of motor vehicles barreling across my path I hop onto the median and wait for another hole in which to complete my maneuvers. And here comes my friend again! In the correct lane! Hitting the green light perfectly! Smooth as butter. Siiiiigh. Now I'm in behind her again, trying to keep a respectable distance but still use the power of numbers to keep traffic at bay. One cyclist: Angry, disrespectful drivers. Two or more: At least a safe distance.

Finally our paths separated and I yelled a friendly goodbye to try and show her I wasn't a freak. She seemed to understand, at least enough to smile and say goodbye back. Then I navigated my inefficient path through Ghent and finally home. Hot, sweaty, and annoyed. Probably one of the worst commutes I have in memory.

But still, I wouldn't give it up for anything. Tomorrow will be better. Oh yes. Tomorrow will be better.

Rant over.

- David

I'm alive, just not in

I'm alive, just not in front of a computer I can blog from all day long.

New job seems fine, pending a few concerns. More later.

- David

Untitled

This won't be repeated, explained, or expounded upon.

But you're fucking up.

Necessitās

Needs seem to come in waves. Sometimes you feel a lot of need, other times you don't.

I need to talk to my dad about the truck. I need to apologize to my grandma for the same. I need to move my bike seat down a tiny bit, but it's stuck. I need to start working. I need to save money. I need to vacuum. I need to feel fulfilled. I need $7,000 for massage school. I need to meditate again. I need to go to more concerts. I need to send in my paperwork. I need to shave the dogs. I need more tattoos. I need to find Kasey a local job. I need to find Kasey a bike. I need to find Kasey. I need to take the recycling out. Badly. I need to donate a bunch of old clothes. I need to get my hip and knee looked at. I need to go back and cry during Rilo Kiley. I need hardwood floors. I need to be better. I need to get a tux. I need to go to Boston. I need to do yoga. I need to get home.

- David

Change of Venue?

Being between jobs like I am, I've had some time to think about what I'd really like to do with myself. Computers is great and all, but it don't really turn my crank no more. I love technology; just today I spent hours messing with GPS software. But it's moved more into the Hobby section of my brain.

So what then? I have this (two year) degree in computer networking and information technology. Should I build upon it? Try to divert it into something else? I didn't even have the money to pay for that schoolin', how am I going to get anymore?

If I can be honest for a moment, I'd love to be a masseur. I have awesome hands after all, and I think they'd be good at massaging muscles instead of keyboards all day. I like people, and I like helping them. I especially like helping naked people who are paying double-digit dollars an hour for my services. I bet it'd be lots of a fun and pretty damn satisfying to be directly bettering the lives of my fellow human beings.

I don't think it's very likely though. Even though there is an accredited massage therapy school (based on the principles of Edgar Cayce!) in my area, and even though there is a bus route that would take me nearly to the front door and back for $1.50. *sigh* Maybe it'll work out. And maybe monkeys will fly out of my butt.

Whatever happened to indentured servitude? "Hey Mr. Spaman, if you help put me through massage school I'll work for you for three to five years." That'd be pretty cool, even though according to Wikipedia the system has a whole bunch of flaws.

Anyone interested?

- David

*Edit*
Oooh, the whole course is actually cheaper than I thought...

Glendora

Meeeeeeeeh. Hung over has turned into down and out. I'm sick. Sweats, sore throat, runny orifices, the whole bit. I woke up last night and put on a bunch of clothes cuz I was freezing, then preceded to sweat my ass off. This morning I feel better than last night and I'm currently overdosing on vitamin C, so let's hope I can bust this thing out. I have a job interview(s) coming up.

Speaking of, I need to find a public library so I can print out my application for Department of Defense security clearance. Not Top Secret, mind you, but Secret is still pretty cool. I wonder if I'll get a card. Next time I get carded for a big scary rated R movie, I'll flash that bitch in their faces.

Last night I had a dream right out of some Quentin Tarantino film, if he had a bicycle obsession and had just watched a documentary on LARPing. I busted into a hotel room filled with three pudgy, pasty fantasy-type geeks and proceeded to interrogate and terrorize them with my mini U-lock. I have nothing against LARPing or geeks of any type, just for the record. But you can take my word for it, they had it comin'.

I'm going to get ready for the day, before my virus decides to come back for round two and knock me out on the couch.

Adios.

- David

Not About Bicycles

I feel sick. Nauseousness, just on the outside of my perception. Like I've been breathing some kind of heavy gas and it's stuck, swirling slowly, in my chest.

It could be that I haven't been taking my vitamins lately, or that I'm probably protein deficient. After a few weeks my vegetarian system starts to notice that kind of thing.

Or it could be the result of trying to stay so chipper when things are total crap. Buddhists and laid back people have a lot of pressure to continue being Buddhist and laid back, even when our lives are falling apart. A lot of that pressure is internal. It can be a huge bitch. We can be the rock and the refuge for our loved ones, but when shit goes down on our end of town, it seems like we just have to deal. And if there's conflict, guess who feels compelled to make it right, to calm down, to fix it. To forgive and forget. That's right. But maybe it's just me.

Shit is going down on my end of town.

What good is being introspective if you're the only one? What good is it to be mindful of the reasons behind things when no one else is concerned? Why be one of those "nice guys" when being insensitive seems so much easier? I don't think I'm cut out for this.

But a ship that goes out to sea either keeps sailing, or it sinks. So, whatever. This will all be discounted as dramatization anyway. Even though to me, it definitely isn't. But that won't matter. After a time I'll go on my merry way, no assistance or effort required, as always. So why bother with any of this.

Woo, happy Friday.

- David