“Papi, why you hurt mi like dat?”
It’s been a while, a long, while, full of long, and interesting events that I can’t believe I’m about to divulge. For starters, I worked on my buddy’s truck the other day, just helpin’ a brother out. Changing some oil, etc. etc. Well, there’s this weird thing that happened when I was reading the manual to his car. I just forgot to read it. And so, in my stupidity, and in that doltish innocence that takes over as did when I was a small child helping out my dear father with his car maintenance,… eh, I sort of drained his tranmission dry of its red, globby fluid. Gasp. And then, I said, “Fuck.”
I’ve been in university for the last two months, and all I have to say is this: “Oh, the joy.” Of homework. Being a grown adult and having homework. Why didn’t I just finish this goddam undergrad when I was 21? Oh… that’s right, I was too busy working and reading Robert Jordan’s inescapable Wheel of Time series. If you’ve never been into fantasy, or have a serious problem with imagination, then this series is plainly not for you. If you want to escape the turmoil of a young life gone awry, have no need to drink heavily at the same bar, need some QT&RNR, or want to feel like you can unlock the power of the true Source (WOT reference, you’ll get it when you read it) within you, then go to your local bookstore, and pick up the first of this behemoth series, The Eye of the World. You will not be disappointed, and you very well might lose any and all of the inner agitations concerning the direction of your life.
“Drink and Ride 2008”
In other news, ever since I got a motorcycle, I haven’t really been riding my bicycle. Which I might add is a lovely number (fixed gear, sunshine yellow, easy to ride, easy to carry, easy to look at…. hard as shit to ride up hill for 6 months straight). Bah — I can get around a lot easier with this 2-wheeled motorized driving contraption. And there’s something to be said about going 93 miles an hour down a large stretch of melting pavement. And those words are: “Don’t Die.” The are simultaneously the same words that keep running through my head, every time I get on the damn thing; jaw clenched, my being in a practically horizontal position, eyes completely focused, hearing nothing but the booming wind and hammering clout of steel pistons. Manly madness… and all the while, my bikes screams to me, Yes! No more bicycle riding 39 miles a day in the heat of a hot Texan day. However, I can also hear the thoughts of my fellow man-pears, “Douche with a motorcycle, a loud, blatantly obvious metaphor for his lacking manhood, and predilections of self-importance. God. Damn I wish I had one…”
This week promises to be interesting and quite the upper because of this quality freelance job I’ve been working on since the dawn of my Austinite rebirth. Working for the man, has never been this much fun. But because I am constantly online, investing in my vehicular ineptitude, practicing my youtube watching, and studying for 5 hours out of the day, I’ve just not had it in me to write…and I owe my dear imprisoned cousin about 5 past due letters.
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