Friday, August 31, 2007

*flop* The jacket and gloves go down on the seat, and I carefully balance the helmet on top of them. No, I should put it on the ground. I can't have it falling and getting damaged. I set the helmet on the pavement.

I fumble my phone out of my pocket and speed dial Kakashi.

"Hey, I was just about to call you."

"Yeah, um, where are you?"

"Ahhhhh.... (Terry Pratchett and traffic noise fill the background) ....hhhhh...just south of Santa Barbara."

Dammit.

"Well, I needed a ride to go pick up my bike from the dealership, but they close at six, and you're what, an hour and a half away, so obviously there is no chance you'll be back by then."

"I haven't hit the Santa Barbara traffic yet and I'm on the 101. How was the traffic on your way down?"

"The 118 sucked, as usual. **** I hate the 118. And yes you are going to catch hell once you get south of S-B. Whatever. I'll call the guy and say I'll pick it up tomorrow."

"You'll have to do that cause I ain't gonna be home before seven, buddy."

No, you're not. Dammit. And I have no other options, either! I live out in this mothereffing neck of the woods where I don't know anybody and have no options...How long will it take to walk...no, forget that, it's 5:30 already. Forget it. I'm going to go take a shower and sign out for the night. I'll get there when I get there, the dealer will just have to understand that...

(don't get me wrong, I'm quite grateful to have a free bed, but this has got to end)

Thursday, August 30, 2007

I love old metal like I love old leather boots. It's seen the weather and the pounding and has survived the toil. Everytime I downshift Suzi at a stop sign I feel the old steel cogs slipping apart and slipping together; or rather, I don't feel them. Parts mating and meshing and revving in their old worn tracks, chain and cams humming through their patina of oil. Riding the Sharp Blue Number every day makes me forget how comfortable aged machinery is. It exudes a bit of that teenager insecurity.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

I have a bad feeling about this, this whole thing about where I'm living, what I'm doing...

Too much TV, not enough GRE, and nowhere to put my feet up. The temptation to go rent a motel for a week has never been stronger. I'm collecting parts but not installing them; wasting time and not doing anything about it; brooding on the past and not moving ahead. Why should one try to know oneself if not for the purpose of improving on who one is? Why do old impractical dreams never die? Why does making money taste so bad? Everything in my life is perfect except I have no structure and no home; what do I have to complain about? Nothing, really.

Why do I miss life, when living it is so impractical, so hard to justify, so contrary to first principles? Where did my first principles come from?

Monday, August 27, 2007

9,200 miles on the blue wedgie-thing that doesn't have a name.

Hot damn.

I'm gonna have 10,000 miles on this thing before another month is out, just watch me.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Anniversary

I've kept this odd journal not only alive but healthy for a whole year now.

gosh, what has changed.

And what hasn't changed?

Sunday, August 19, 2007

They are gone, dreams drifting on a wisp of smog curling down the freeway. Smiling hazel eyes, a laugh fades into distance, a holographic memory across a room. I want to kick myself for remembering. Kick myself.

It's brooding, it's...not leaving the past behind...a past that lied to me, I lied to myself...

The shining river of grooved pavement rattles rhythmically conjuring a memory of a burgundy hoodie and a dark brown head bent over a pencil...

...lied to myself...

You'd think I'd learn a lesson about reality, after once or twice. But over and over like this...there is no hope, no excuse for this strange insanity. Romantics are the curse of the earth.

Saturday, August 18, 2007

If one gets out of life what one puts into it, which one does, then the vacuum when established is as insatiable as a jet intake.

"I don't know how to SWITCH OFF!"

- Sgt. Nicholas Angel, Hot Fuzz

Thursday, August 16, 2007

I stand outside the window let the ash rain down
I can't see the sun and you can't see the rain
place your hand on the window glass it doesn't cover mine
keep looking past my shoulder let the ash rain down

Monday, August 13, 2007

Homeless

I am now a footloose drifter living out of laundry baskets....well, not quite sleeping on a park bench but sleeping at my roommates aunt's house for the next month....

Sunday, August 05, 2007

Ride #2






Shinier than the day it was new.

2007 Suzuki V-Strom, flogged halfway across the country from California to Minnesota and back in June. Now has just over 6,000 miles on it.

(and before you ask, no, it's not got a proper name nor is it likely to get one anytime soon. There is something dramatically unromantic about brand new plastic motorcycles)