I ought to update this thing every once in a while.

But like an old car wrapped in plastic and left in the backyard, I expect to forget about my blog except on those rare occasions I feel impelled to say something.  And those occasions have become pretty rare.  I guess that means that I am doing rather than saying; and doing is good.

I called darii on Saturday; we talked movies for a while and at the end of the talk I said something to the effect of "screw it, I'm coming up there and we're going to go watch Coraline".  And I did.

I threw a few things into a backpack, swung it into the tailcase, spent a minute or two fiddling with my rain pants, and took off into the gray evening (it's gonna rain) without a second thought.  I kinda miss just taking off halfway across the state just at random; I have too many rationalizations these days to justify such harebrained action.

Three hours later I was up at the house, and we were laughing and drinking and messing about just like old times.  It was good.  We hit up a 10 pm showing of the movie and it was the first time I'd ever been in an empty theater with one friend.  We took full advantage of the opportunity to talk, loudly and irreverently, throughout the whole weird movie.

Yeah, I miss doing stuff of this ilk.  You get old, you get sane, and life just isn't fun anymore...

Large fusion reaction in western sky blotting out all visible objects with its overpowering radiance. Heavy traffic emerging from the center of the inferno, whipping by on either side. Squinting doesn't help see stuff.  Curses, curses on picking this time of day, or night.  There is supposed to be an intersection coming up here somewhere but be damned if I can see it.  Oh.  There's the barber shop off to the right.  Intersection should be right here.  Should...be....

Red light = 1.

Motorcyclist = 0.

Red light = 1.  A long honk lashes the air.

Motorcyclist = WTF.  Glances at the mirrors. Burnt retinas make out the receding glow of a red traffic signal.  Not cool. People die doing stuff like that.  Death by inattention, it's called.  So ladies and gents, wake up if you want to live, yeah?

(and sunglasses can help with that sometimes too)

Ventura is so beautiful at night from that little turnoff of Foothill where I didn't dare stay more than five minutes with my lights shut down and visor open.  Too much traffic. Some passing meddler would call me in..."I'm seeing some suspicious activity by the avocado orchard, yeah it's a biker just sittin' there, lights are all off, must be waitin' to meet somebody"

I'm in no mood to deal with inquisitive cops right now....no mood at all...

beautiful and the stars are out and it's ice cold, the aloe are coated with frost...

It is late at night, and the world is a horrible place full of panic.  I should go for a motorcycle ride to nowhere.  They can't follow me or find me there, as long as I keep moving, as long as I keep the brights on....Where?  Which nowhere?

*grasps helmet*