"Homegrown" in Newark

I'm riding in the back of a car with Rachel and a dude, Alex, up front. I'm in the back seat and we're stopping off at guy's house so he can take a shower before we all go over to a bar on Main Street in Newark. That's 7:21. I managed to avoid drinking 100 beers. Just two. Fortunately, Nat's bro gave me some whiskey before I left for the bar, and everyone smokes weed always. On the way out of the bar, I ran into Mike's ex-girl Laura. During my time sitting at the bar, some lady came up and grabbed my shoulders because I have a black fluffy mohawk, and she knows someone else with a similar looking head.

It was an early night for me. I've been seeing the sun come up a lot, and I was back at headquarters before midnight.

I need to find some friendly people who don't give a fuck about general typical topics, and want to sit around all night long. I'm a crazy nice non-elitist who can get out of my brain long enough to banter to a conclusion when called for. If you are a person who is generally upbeat and non dramatic, and you think sitting around with no specific plans is not only un-weird, but simply the way things should work sometimes: call me up. By email.

I think I'm almost ready to be leaving Kennett Square. Really.

Parking in Center City

At 7:21pm I'm in Center City on Pine St, or Locust, or Lombard, or Spruce, or one of the 20-somethings. It definitely takes a lot of time and work to find a place to park. I'm happy that I've mellowed out enough to be able to keep my cool. I'm cussing and muttering shit about suicide and murder, but at the base of it, I'm still reasonable. I'm relaxed. I end up parking medium-far away, and not in a great spot. I've learned this lesson too many times. "Park really far away in a great spot, and ride a bicycle." Well - no cycle this time. So I park and shut up.

I'm here to see Mike Bradley, who I don't see too often when he's dating. Mi amigo, mi amor! I'm excited to see him, and glad that he txt'd me to come over. Mike dates regularly and for long periods of time. He lives in Philly with a cool girl that he deserves, so that makes this trip about catching up as much as hanging out. I drank a lot, then we got a veggie burger. Beautiful night in the city. Warm and breezy. We talked. I slept in my van on some random hairy corner. In spite of traffic and motherfuckers, I slept fine. I got up at 8 and put on some Jack Johnson. I drove back to Kennett Square while everyone else was getting to work.

Preparation, limitation, spillage

I'm making preparations to get going on this bicycle trip. I'm still dragging my feet, and I still don't care that much. I took the milk crate off of my bicycle rack, because you can't put panniers (bags) on the rack with the milk crate sticking over the sides. I'd love to ride with a milk crate full of shit, but logistically I hit a snag. I don't know a good way to use panniers and the crate, so for now, the crate is out. I stuffed all my sleeping gear into one pannier with room to spare, and that makes me happy.

I tried to have really awesome sex with a super model. I had a great time, and fucked and fooled around a bit, but in the end I think maybe Vodka doesn't work like Viagra. Not in huge doses. So now I'm thinking about that. Trying to figure out why I wasn't solid as a rock pressed against her extremely sexy body. I'm confused by this, but I don't make judgments about myself. Who knows? My thoughts are that I hope not coming isn't an insult. Is it insulting to suck a lazy dick? I have limited experience with sex. I don't know if I'd rather come fast, or just try every tactic to bring her to an orgasm. Actually, I do know. The latter is probably my favorite thing ever. Hopefully that's enough to get invited over, and we can see about whatever else.

Maybe that was all about vodka drinks, probably not completely. I'm not running lab experiments. I guess I'm glad that I don't take anything very seriously. "I guess" meaning that I'm not sure what's truly best for me, but I suspect that taking too much stuff seriously can be a downer. So maybe I dodged a bullet. Maybe I was born lucky knowing this, or maybe I thought myself into adopting this mentality when I was still tiny. Now it looks like fact. Furthermore as I see the big picture, getting a life and a certain upbringing and mentality is kind of a one-shot dice roll. Completely random. I don't want to waste whatever it is that I got. You can waste some - everyone spills a little bit, and that's part of the deal. But don't fucking sit there watching the whole thing spill out onto the carpet. I'm trying not to do that. If I do, I at least want to laugh, and rub it in with my foot.

Complacent, lazy, amazing

I am an absolutely amazing human being. I can't make myself do anything. Anything at all. My day picks up around 11pm or something. I sit around and barely do anything until then. Then I basically just start drinking or something like that. I stay up as late as possible. I sleep out in my van, which is absolutely fantastic. The sun starts to heat up the van, and I open the doors and lay around until 11 or 12. I start moving around noon, and waste the entire day with a laptop or something like that. I have at least a dozen bicycles that need to get worked on or thrown out, and I just don't feel like it. I want to have $1000, and leave on this bicycle trip. That should be soon. And I'm very ready. Though I could leave in a few days if I took some action, I still sit here getting no closer to moving. At 7:21 - I'm on my laptop looking at sketches of Philadelphia characters. I'm getting kinda used to Kennett Square again. I like my parking spot, and I like crawling inside when the sun is too hot, and sitting around the big house. I take naps. I haven't driven the van anywhere in a week except to get whiskey.

I'm truly excited about this bicycle trip. I'm crossing my fingers and hoping that I'll wake up and take action soon.

Sales, touring, boozy situations

I'm selling a red Panasonic bicycle that I got for free when I worked with 1-800-Got-Junk. I got several free bicycles, and I'm finally getting around to selling this one. All I had to do was inflate the tires, and adjust the front brake - and I got $80.

Right at 7:21, I was standing on the corner of 16th and Chestnut.

Minutes previous, I was headed into the city with a load of bicycles that I'd advertised on Craigslist earlier in the day. On the way in, I got a call from a girl who lived at 16th and Chestnut, and wanted to check one of them out. To more easily close the sale, I said I'd just drop it right off. As I was standing there, she called me from the opposite corner. I said "I'm the dude with the mohawk," and we waved. She brought her boyfriend, and we all chatted for several minutes, mostly about bicycle trips. Selling bicycles in Philadelphia is a good way to meet cool people. I never forged any lasting friendships, regrettably. Opportunity was surely presented. When selling a bicycle, it's nice to have something to instantly talk about. Bicycles. They need a bicycle, or need to know about one. I can handle that conversation all day. That's one thing I sorta miss about the full time Philly based bicycle business I was running for a time. It feels great to sell a bicycle. Every time I sell one, I get a significant profit. Motivation is the key factor in keeping me from getting more money and having real success at this. I have little motivation to get the bicycles and fix'em.

This moment, the sale and chat, is a turning point toward a highly enjoyable evening in contrast to the honestly kinda depressing day. Not anxiety - I was actually kinda depressed. I'm feeling more ready to start the bicycle journey now. This is good. I still haven't set a leaving date, but I'm wrapping things up around this area. Can't be too long. Bolted cranks onto the touring bicycle. I still need some last minute logistical stuff. I need to get all loaded up and look at my gear. Few more errands. Hopefully I'll feel some relief when I set out, along with the uncertainty that I know will be present. For now, I've given up coffee and soda (except in whiskey). Not buying and consuming this stuff is saving me money now - will save money on my tour - and will make me drink much more water, which is important. I didn't stop swilling booze. Booze always levels out when I just quit for a month or something like that. How and why I start drinking again is a little confusing. I quit for a month, and everything manages to get healthy and happy. Then, at some point, my mission is accomplished and I drink again. It goes back and forth. I'd "quit" for the bicycle tour, but I don't think that rule is necessary. I suspect consumption will just naturally dwindle from lack of convenience and interest. It's nice to seek out and participate in random boozy social situations, but I don't think I'm gonna get five random pints before looking for a place to lay my bivy sack.

Cow pies, pizza pies

I'm taking the biggest nap possible. But when my watch beeps, that's about all I can fit in. I got only a couple hours of sleep, 'cause I was up drinking all night at Shawn's party. I assed out in my van for about two hours before I had to get up and go to work at 11. The sun was way up by the time I laid down. It was a damn good night. Brief and mild flirting got us invited along to pet enormous cows. That was a fucking masterpiece. As the sun is just asking to come up, we're tromping around with grocery bags tied to our feet, and getting introduced to holsteins on university property by girls in sexy shorts. And flipflops. Yikes on the flipflops, cause you could not take a shit-free step. There was a hose though, so fine.

This was my last day serving slices at the pizza job. I wasn't all there.
boss "Why is there no phone number or time on this delivery order." (oops?)
me "I checked Google. The number's listed." (okay?)
boss "Why didn't you take the number and time?" (blah blah blah)
me "Cause I'm super fucked up and tired." ('drop this right now' tone)

I really did leave on good terms. It really is a very easy job. It really does pay shit and isn't worth it.

Family time

"Would you like another Flying Fish?"
"Please.." I responded. I said it like "of course."
"beep! beep!" my belt alarm sounded.

When it's something like that, I smile. A random moment - a definite thing - is captured. Not amazing itself, but an otherwise easily forgotten snapshot exists, and context surrounds it.

I was sitting at the head of a figure 8 of two huge tables in a private room at a restaurant called the "Elephant and Castle" in New Jersey. This is a big family get together, and the cast is more complete than I have seen in years. My uncle is visiting from England, and that completes the set of four siblings including my mom. Three sisters and a little brother - my uncle - who is in the states to see his daughter graduate from high school. Cousins are here too. Three out of three sisters who are the daughters of my aunt. Both out of both of the married cousins husbands were also there. And all four of their kids - a boy and a girl for each cousin-husband team. The kids are running batshit, and this is a private room, and that's great. This is nice. Stories are told, and overall it feels pretty solid. Some characters couldn't attend, but this is an impressive little reunion.

Smoking on a porch

Honestly, my watch broke on Sunday. I was plastered, and all kinds of stuff was going on. The little pin that holds the band in place disappeared. So I didn't have any 7:21 beeping for a couple days. Now the watch is attached to my belt with what remains of the band. I don't really like that, but I don't dislike it enough to buy a new watch. I'm just not that guy. So - 7:21, I'm pretty sure I'm hanging out on Rachel's porch. Shawn called me while I was at work - second to final day at pizza job - and asked what was up. I left work early since people don't eat pizza at 3pm anyway. There was a teacher party/meeting at my house. A brief explanation follows:

My parents are teachers, my sister is a teacher, my aunts and uncle teach, my cousins are teachers. It's a real serious teacher family that I'm in. This house sometimes has a gathering of teachers who eat chips and drink a little beer. It's always been that way, and many times the teachers were teachers who taught me. This time there were a lot of new faces. I found out that some of the new faces were younger than my face. Is that funny? I'm going to file that under the ambiguous heading of 'notable.' I noted it. I ate some cheese cubes and broccoli, and was a nice guy.

Shawn picked me up pretty fast, and we went up to the Half Moon Saloon: too early, but fuck it. That's the bar that I've spent too much money at several times very recently. True again, I had five pints and we left without ordering any of the food that was talked about. I wanted some pot. At 7:21, I'm pretty sure I was sitting on Rachel's porch smoking pot.

My mind has been pretty scattered. I wouldn't mind talking about it, but this blog really isn't the time or place. Here's an issue. I started out writing just about what was happening at 7:21. Then I wanted to pour a lot more words out of my fingers, so I did that. I want to be able to describe my thoughts, and explain myself. It's therapeutic for me, and I think there's a value for me to be able to look back at the very specific details of my own life. All that is facts. Sometimes I might we writing about trees without explaining that I'm in the woods. Just remember that everyone is always in the fucking woods, and sometimes trees don't look that interesting when your face is up in the bark. That said, sometimes I'll give you a description of bark.

At Danielle's

Two days ago at 7:21pm, I was at Danielle's. I probably owe her a bottle of Old Crow. Had a good time, naturally.

Ants and bars

It's 7:21, and I'm outside making a little bit of money. Not much money - but on a beautiful day like today, making money is almost like getting away with something. This is my second pizza delivery that I've taken on foot. If you walk the delivery instead of riding the bicycle, it takes longer. That is a very good thing. More time outside. The foot delivery also helps if you like to look at a whole mess of ants doing ant-work. I did just that at 7:21, on the same block as the delivery. When it's nice outside, and you're watching a mess of ants, everything feels right like it should.

Headline: possible catatonic drinking scenario takes a swift turn for the best.

I went back to Newtons. The bar that exists where there used to be a "Newberry's" department store where, as a tiny little man, I looked at shitty toys and bought lighters for 50 cents. Now it's a swanky bar and restaurant, and as I said I went there again. It didn't take long for Hailey (dreadlocks, 26) a sincere and friendly traveler, to convince me that she is pretty cool. "Hard day?" she asked as I rubbed my head like it might have been just that. "Nope - easy as shit - every day is easy as hell." is something like what I said. Conversation followed. She introduced me to Tim the suited lawyer, and it didn't take long for me to be convinced of his genuine sincerity, and awesome views and ideas. I also met Matt, the guy who graduated high school in my sister's class, and was in a band that I liked a lot. I thought that meeting an actual plurality of people in Kennett Square who could hold a non-superficial conversation was unlikely. When I got to the bar, I expected to say "Lager" five times, and be done with it. But no. Talking and hanging out occurred instead. Hope is restored for future enjoyable social interactions everywhere. If it can happen in Kennett Square, then I don't have to move into a cave or under a pile of leaves.

However, this question remains: Is this type of scenario only possible at a bar? These people are also great outside of the bar setting, as I learned when we walked and sat and chilled and talked. But - how would I have met any of them if I hadn't decided to go into a bar? I know it's possible, but far less probable, especially at night in Kennett when I'm half desperate to do anything at all. Do I need to go to a bar to find people who don't hush up and avert their eyes? Should I be trying harder to dissolve pathetic social barriers? Should I get a big nasty tattoo that looks like a beard of black wispy flames? That was three questions, and I think the answer to at least two or three of them is yes.

Philadelphia-ing

Matt Klopp is back in town. There's not much to do anywhere, especially on a rainy chilly day like this. We went to Philadelphia. The plan is to drink, pretty much. We stopped at Nat's. Sorry if this is boring, but aside from the thin entertainment usually provided by booze, it was pretty boring for me too. For some day at 7:21 I'll try to be climbing something, or accomplishing something riveting.

Sitting on a porch in Philly

I'm sitting on the porch that's attached to Shelly and her roomates'es row house in West Philly on a side street. It's in the same neighborhood that I used to inhabit when I lived two blocks away with Shelly. Shelly is a couple blocks closer to 40oz beer now, and the porch is nice. There's low key BBQ, and people sitting around, including Jonas. I'm a little out of it, but I'm having a good enough time. Good enough, because I'm doing something rather than nothing.

I arrived a couple hours ago after racing from the bus stop at the 69th Street terminal. The adrenaline was pumping. It's been too long since I've goosed all out in this area, shooting right through traffic down the middle of the street. I'm the kind of guy who does that thing where he tries not to put a foot down when traffic requires a stop. I inch forward and pause until I eventually run out of real estate.

This morning I got up extra early and rode the Diamondback City Bike to work in West Chester from Kennett. This moderately hilly and thoroughly familiar 13 mile route was way more tiring than it is when I'm in decent shape. After I got back to this area last July, I crushed this route. I was still used to 70+ mile days every day. I'm riding 65 miles in a charity event on Sunday, and I'm thinking it might not be so easy. I might only be able to crush some of the route. I'll probably have to crawl for part of it too.

After work was done at 3pm, I took the Diamondback City Bike on the 104 bus to Philly. The Diamondback got to see it's former parking spot - locked to a sign at 46th and Locust - as we whizzed by at a furious pace. I used to leave this same bicycle locked outside 24/7 in an area where bicycles definitely get stolen. That went on through all seasons and all weather. This was my first specifically outdoor bicycle. If it got stolen, I'd only be out about $20-30. I locked it through the frame and the front wheel. The rear wheel was unlocked, but had a bolt on hub. I think the only remaining part from my initial setup is the original (7spd SIS!) rear derailer and a blue piece of cable housing that goes to it from the chainstay cable stop. The original heart is the same. Northroad handlebars on a mountain bicycle with a rack and a milk crate. Friction shifting, bulletproof. Now everything is just nicer. Until two days ago, the DBCB never had a front derailer. I took it off the first time I fixed it up for myself, and decided I didn't need it. If I hit a big hill, I could push the chain to the small ring with my foot. When I got around to it, I could reach down and shift back up with the tip of my index finger. No need to stop. The need for this action was rare. Now I have a Shimano 105 derailer that I got for $10 at the Trexlertown swap. Now that I can shift - I do more. It's nice to pop it in the big ring sometimes, I'll admit. The Shimano bar end shifters in friction mode are awesome on this bicycle. I'm really happy with it.

If you want a 40oz in West Phila, and you are me, you're going to go to Pasqually's. If you want a falafel, you're going to the truck. I didn't go to the truck, but I did make a stop a 'Squally's to make sure it still existed after my absence.

Lack of beds

I'm in the process of hanging out with Matt Klopp. He's headed back to Brooklyn tomorrow, and we're sticking around West Chester today. I got out of work at 3pm, and entered a picturesque scene of the way things always ought to be. When the weather is nice, my mood is improved more than a little bit. The weather is perfect - couldn't be better. Any trace of anxiety or gloom is out. I'm as free and unencumbered as I need to be, and life is simple again. I've been slightly gloomy for days, as the weather was cold and there's been a lot of rain. Does weather really have that strong of a hold on me? I think, among other things, that it might. I don't want my brain chemicals to be so affected by shit-weather, so that's something I need to be aware of and work on.

Matt and I just went to Jake's Bar. That's the college town dive bar that everyone likes. The popularity of this bar seems unwarranted, but understandable. It's cheap to get drunk there. We shared two pitchers, which means I had a few more than a pitcher-load. Miller Lite. I wasn't very drunk, but I did have to pee in the bushes. Yea Miller.

Walking after that took us through the parking lot next to Safe Harbor, the shelter. Two women who seemed fairly distressed and very tired from driving asked if we had any idea where to go to find any kind of housing or shelter setup whatsoever. It really kills me to be powerless in this situation. I explained that aside from Safe Harbor, or the Salvation Army, I don't know who has beds. I called His Mission in Kennett, and that was out too. I'd really like to be able to help with something so basic, but what's the solution? Rent a warehouse, fill it with beds, and just open it to anyone? There really should be some way to design a setup with a ton of beds and couches but aside from said hypothetical warehouse, I don't know. Would negative consequences definitely occur from this arrangement? Worry about the consequences is probably the main reason this setup doesn't already exist. This bothered me for some time. I just wanted to tell them they could stay at my house. But I don't have a house, so that's that. They had a vehicle packed with stuff. The vehicle looked pretty nice, so did the stuff. It looks like they were leaving behind some kind of bullshit situation, taking just what was presumed necessary, and not having the details worked out at all. I feel proud of myself for having endless self sufficiency and confidence that I can handle any event, no problem. These ladies did not look prepared to handle anything. I wanted to help - but what? I'm not very well equipped to take anyone under my wing.

That all occurred right before 7:21. Right AT 7:21, Matt was talking to Alix - the girl he met in Key West. She's telling him all the things a man might want to hear, and I'm still a little bothered that I don't have a warehouse with beds.

What can you do though? I got plastered and set off an alarm.

Throw me in the river

Matt Klopp is in town, visiting from the splendor of New York City. I don't know if it's really splendid up there, but it sounds like he is making money and having a time. I don't remember when my watch beeped. It might have been at Newton's where I got one Hop Devil. I actually barely want to talk about that. My watch also might have beeped while we took a break to goof around outside the Brandywine River Museum. Or it could have beeped in between.

Remember when I said I smoked weed in my van with a random girl from a bar? Well I wanted to see if she was working: she was. I really might as well have had a beer under a bridge somewhere, because I don't have the nerve to talk to a girl anyway. "She seemed busy?" Or maybe just not then. I'm a real wordy acrobat in plenty of less important scenarios. Here's how I played this one: met a girl at a bar who was really cool to talk to - she leaves with me in my van knowing full well that it's my house and we're going to smoke weed and who knows what. We talk about stuff and have a good time. Great! So I should go back and engage in further conversation at minimum, but instead I wait for weeks before showing up and don't say a word. Just like I might do if I hated her guts rather than wanted her company. I'm not upset at this, but not simply amused either. My feelings are in between. As I put it before, most people's skin is a tight package containing blood and guts and fat and gore. My skin covers a bunch of fluffy teddy bears, and sometimes you might as well just throw me in the river.

Buying Mickey's at Gee's

Gee's in West Chester at Market and New Street sells 24oz Mickey's cans. "Tall-ys" as I like to call them. I've bought a lot of them over the years. I came over here to Gee's with Julia, and I'm pretty sure that's where I'm standing at 7:21pm - but I might have been walking to or from there, or showing off my van.

Fking around in Kennett forever.

I just dipped a chip in some Athenos roasted red pepper hummus. I'm in Kennett at my folks'. They got me some really good hummus. I've been sitting around here doing nothing and feeling very slightly sick. Sick if you're a wuss, but perhaps "on the verge" of real sickness.

I'm not working on my huge stack of bicycles that I've stacked outside in front of the garage. Not a bit. I'm thinking about putting together for myself something that I actually want to ride: how about a really nice Trek 800? KHS Professional 531 racing cycle? These are works in progress, floating around half-assed and waiting for parts to materialize from thin air.

I got a Trek 800 21" frame in Burlington last June. 8 bux. I recently made a purchase of an old Raleigh "Mountain Tour" - from a response to my ad placed in the Wilmington News Journal. The Mountain Tour has SunTour friction thumb shifters, and some real simple DiaCompe cantilever brakes that I like. I could strip that stuff off and earmark it for me. I should. But the Northroad handlebars that I'm using have been drilled out to accept bar end shifters. Incredibly unique and badass. So I should get some bar end shifters. Instead, I just ordered some Silver Down Tube shifters from Rivendell last night. That's an aside - they won't work. But Rivendell has bar end 'pods' that fit them. Maybe I'll get them in the future when I'm rich again. Then I can have nice friction shifters for all my rides.

I'm also working on a really tall 63cm KHS Professional (w/ 57cm TT). This will be my road bike. It struggles to fit 700x32c Pasela tires. It's made to be race-y, and has very simple but thinned lugs (good craftsmanship). It also has forged SunTour dropouts, and full 531 tubing for the frame and fork. It's nice. I put a nice quality Campagnolo-hubbed wheelset on there. I bought that from another response to my ad. 8spd cassette included. Throw your hands in the air for friction shifting. Throw'em!

But I'm out of shape and I don't ride my bicycle much. Haven't ridden an inch since returning from Key West, except for the Peace a Pizza delivery bicycle. I don't have a bicycle I'm in love with, and I find any excuse to be a slob. Gotta work on that. Especially since I'm a nerd, and pre-7:21 today I spent a very considerable amount of time geeking around on the internet looking at the Furnace Creek 508 website, some "Rough Riders" website, and one I haven't seen before: The 3 Speed Adventure Society. Wow. 3 Speed Adventure Society... someone has been sneaking into my room and reading my diary!

Also: I didn't sleep in my van last night. I slept inside in a bed. That breaks the Dec 1 to Apr 25 streak of enjoying my sleep in a vehicle. Streak broken.

Let me continue to talk about how I spent $41 at bars in Kennett getting really drunk on Hop Devil. Completely ridiculous. Some lady was trying to prod me to 'smile' and seem real happy. I was reasonably happy, but my catatonic expression did not spell this out clearly enough. I told her I was being 'fucking introspective and shit.' I was sitting alone - obviously - right in the middle of the bar. She was flirting with some golf pro fuck across another lady. Maybe he wasn't a fuck - to be fair, he just looked like it. Well the joke is on her, 'cause I ended up smoking weed in my van with a girl from Scranton who knows Mike Quinn. Mikey. Life is not to be taken very seriously.

Two days after that, I saw Matt Emerson. Speaking in terms of physical appearance, the Army has turned him into an imposing figure. Always good to see childhood neighbor friends. Kennett is a fucking trip, g. I talked briefly with those who I have not seen in some time, then spent a lot more time drinking up a good tab alone. I think the combination of meat, beer, and weed has hurt my typically fantastic immune system. I blame meat the most. I think I was a lot healthier when I didn't eat meat. But that might have more to do with riding a bicycle.

Well I'm no scientist, that's not what I went to school for
And I'm not a doctor, so I don't know much about medicine - EL-P

Crawling home

I'm trying to catch a nap in the van. My house. I'm pulled off at a public boat ramp on route 1, a few miles north of Big Pine. My side doors are open to a view of moderately littered-up mangroves. As I'm laying here, I can see enough of the sky to know the sunset is beautiful - but the sun itself is out of range of my open doors. I bought six beers earlier, and now there is only one left. That's because I'm fucking stupid, and I drank five. I really really wanted to leave Key West after I was done with my marathon of goodbyes, so I did. I was planning to spend the night on Big Pine at a final hoopla with my crew of friends who I met through Dave and Bill at the bike store. This left me with time to kill. Sleep, a book, find some fucking shade. I also planned on one beer: for reasonable reasons, I assured myself. Ha. How one equals five is something I cannot explain logically, but the concept is familiar enough. I'm not drunk - that would require more than the whole six pack, and these bottles have been emptied over the course of several hours. I'm not at all drunk, I'm just a little ashamed of my lack of control sometimes. I'm not worried about my safety, I'm just ashamed to have five empties in my cooler. Mosqitos are biting my ankles.

pretty good buzz

I'm pretty fucked up, dude. I'm sitting at Andrew's with Matt while Andrew is at a softball game. Beer, pot, hash: I'm very focused and riveted in place. Me and Matt are here without Andrew because he forgot about his game and left in a hurry. Us sitting here is fine with him.

Reading and getting money

I'm sitting in front of Kelly's. I got up from a nap just in time to get in an order for two IPAs and some wings before happy hour was done. Now I'm sitting on some steps out front reading the Bar Tab. The Bar Tab is a cheesy little square-shaped publication that is more for tourists and clowns than cool people like me. I belong with a Steinbeck at best, or at least a paperback of some sort. So I'm actually embarrassed when Melanie comes by and I'm reading an article in it. It was a good happenstance meeting though, because she tried to stop by the bike shop earlier, but I wasn't working today. She gave me $45 bucks that Eddie owed to me for looking at, or "fixing" or whatever, some of the pedicabs. I actually wouldn't accept a single cent from Eddie, but it was the pedicab shop's money - not his. Eddie just got me the gig of doing some work there. For what I did, $45 is a true mugging - but I feel fine about it because I've done way more than $45 worth of work on those tricycles since I got to this island.

Arrow!!!

Say that title like they do a hundred times throughout the Blackalicious album. I'm with five friends behind the airport in a large dirty empty lot. Beer, bows, and shooting up an old mattress. I wouldn't say I know these guys well, but wisdom is present. Asinine male behavior is also attending, but nobody here needs to have something explained to them. This is a good group, and this is a good moment.