House shows and general antics.

I went to a house show. Tracy couldn't make it. I don't know her at all, but I wished she could have gone. At 7:21pm I was riding across the river alone. Later, I got drunk and crashed my bicycle. I'm good for at least a few of those per year. After that I smoked some crusty weed with a couple friends at my place. I finally ran into Scott at home. I've been there for awhile, and this is the first I've seen him. We talked for a little bit. It's been a few years, but it's good to see him.

Bicycles and Parties and whatnot.

I don't know what poetry is, but I'm sketching some pretty bad stuff. I'm not classically trained. I'm just drawing isopods and filling them with meaningless poetry. Words.

At 7:21pm I was staying late at work. I was putting a new stem on my bicycle and putting the handlebars that I like back on. I was also using the internet to continue fucking around with OkCupid. I think I come across like a scary drug-nut on there. Hm.

I wasted plenty of time and then I headed to a backyard party over in my old neighborhood. I hoped I wouldn't see anyone who I don't feel like seeing. I succeeded. I saw my ex-roommate Lee, and was happy to talk to him for awhile. I talked to my friend Derrick who is friendly funny and insightful. The party was behind his house. I showed up early with a case of Nice Bud Ice to share.

I did a shitty job of DJ-ing from my iPod and started to get fairly ripped up. This cool girl Tracy said I could stay at her place if I didn't want to ride all the way back to West Philly. I liked her. She seemed fun and quirky. She had sexy glasses that were unpretentious and had that string that lets you hang them around your neck. It was a good look. I slept on a sofa in a huge warehouse that was separated into many rooms by cloth hanging from the ceiling. There are a million artists living there, and they are separated by curtains. Fucking interesting. I woke up with a smile and tried to invite Tracy to a house show I'm going to be at later. I'd like to get a chance to actually talk to her and see what's going on with this whole warehouse setup. I'm interested.

Wake up!

I'm basically just sketching isopods for life.  I'm literally drawing isopods and coloring them in with nail polish. And I'm making the slowest pair of baby socks ever. It will take forever, but I have time in abundance.

West Philadelphia has a new crunk deli for me to shop at. Complete with bulletproof glass and a severely run-down atmosphere. Beer, please. I had some.

This online dating thing is pretty addictive. You can look at it and read profiles for a long time. Don't worry. It's not like I'm contacting anyone. I'm just loafing around on the phone app and drinking beer. I'm pretty sure that's what girls are looking for. All these grad students and executives are going to be head over heels for a guy like me. Mickey's in a 40oz bottle? **swoon!**

Wake up.

Dinner was a can of stuffed grape leaves.

I like it when someone goes ahead and refers to the police as pigs. Fuck it.

I drank a Four and a Forty and worked on the sock loom some more. My first project is to try to make a baby sock. It's slow going because I keep pulling the yarn too tight. Like everything, it'll take some practice.

Dinner was a can of stuffed grape leaves.

Warm shitty booze and a sock loom.

It felt like a wasted day. I certainly did look at profiles on OkCupid for about a year. Then I drove to Philly. My room is nice, but it doesn't feel like it's mine. I'd like this place to be mine officially. There's roof access, which is nice.

Where is my phone charger? Shit. I need to get my shit sorted out. I've been having some of that anxiety. Shit. I want the internet. Shit.

I fucked around with the sock loom and drank a warm can of "Joose." Yeah. I'm living pretty high on the hog these days.

Sock Looms, Comedy and Online Dating.

I went out with Shawn and Melissa to a free comedy show in Newark at the University of Delaware. First we stopped off at Homegrown for happy hour drinks. This could be a new tradition. I like it.

There's this girl Kristin who I talk to on gchat pretty frequently. She mentioned that she was using OkCupid.com to set up dates. I was curious. What started as me being curious ended up with me having a full profile and answering a million question. I don't know. I guess I would like to date people. I'm lonely and I like to meet people. Kissing people and having sex might be nice. We'll see.


I bought a sock loom earlier. It came with a DVD that shows you how to make socks.

In Kennett.

I went to the shop today. We're closed on Mondays, but we schedule tuneups to be completed without interruption. I went in to list parts on eBay. Then I went to Kennett.

The tie dye shirt that I made looks good. At 7:21pm I was watching a Jeopardy re-run with my folks.

Meeting new friends is great.

I'm hanging out with Evan after work.

"So. You want to do that drinking thing?" he asked.
"Yep."

We fly out to the west at a quick pace. As I cut through cars and speed up onto the sidewalk, my watch begins to beep. We stop to get beers at Pasqualley's before heading to the park.

We get to the park where there are some guys who Evan knows who are setting up a slackline. We horse around for awhile, and we eventually make it to my van to sit with the doors open as the sky decides to pour rain. I show him my room and we smoke ancient pot and listen to music. I like this guy. Meeting new friends is great. I walk him downstairs and give him a hug. He's one of the good people I know.

Heard and seen at Clark Park

Somethin's wrong with y'all...
I ain't no bitch
I ain't joking
I don't joke.
Wear a flak jacket?

I'll fuck ya...
WHAT?
I'm telling ya.
get my shit?

I want something..
Ahh!
I'm alright
That ain't shit!

17-23-7, STRAIGHT!
we was 20 years old.
Who the fuck?
Get the fuck out

I'm sitting in Clark Park drinking a forty of Mickey's. There's a drum circle going on, and I'm sitting on the sidelines with my bicycle and some beer. The park antics are in full force. Guy tries to start a fight, guy tries to score drugs, guy walks around with a huge open container - a box of wine, no less.

Open container here is run of the mill. There's open smoke from a few joints as well. Order is maintained by a self-assigned few who seem to have an interest in not getting this silliness shut down. I see a man who looks official, and I start to tuck my forty into it's bag. Immediately a gesture gives me reassurance that everything is fine. The body language is clear, and I am supposed to stay and drink my beer. Good. Because it's a beautiful night, and I'm enjoying a drink on this low brick wall.

I have a notebook, and I write. The open-container antics continue and when one guy gets out of control, he's dealt with somewhere that I can't see it. In the name of keeping order. A tall man mumbled to himself and staggered aimlessly. What he said is what's printed above. The sun set, and it was time for me to head home.

Getting keys to my dope pad.

"I'm gonna take a wizz-banga." That's one of a million ways to say 'pee,' and as I pull it out and get started my watch starts to beep. It's 7:21pm, and I'm taking a tinkle.

I'm at work slightly late as I get a refresher-course on how to make sure the total sales on the credit card machine match what was rung through on the register. Boom. Got it.

I headed west above the river alone. I rode to Mike's house to see about getting the keys to the place where I hope and expect to be staying for awhile.

When I hear "attic," this is not what I picture. Finished with drywall, fully carpeted, attractive exposed brick along one side. That's a list of some features. Large modern window overlooking trees and backyards. That's a sentence fragment explaining more. Really? This place is fucking amazing. It apparently gets too hot in the summer. Small superficial details keep the rent down. I am taken aback; enamored with the space. I have the keys, and I'm crashing here now.

The roommates are mostly absentee. The members of Dr. Dog are planning to move to other places. I don't know what the future holds. At this point, I expect that I will be going to Key West again for awhile. I don't know how permanently I need housing - but this place? Jeeeeeesus. Maybe my standards have been lowered, but I'm not a complete clown - I'm sane and lucid enough to see that this place is dope.

I took a garbage bag full of my bullshit into "my" sort-of new room. I laid down my freshly-laundered covers and sat.

I'm happy. I feel like I'm on track. And I'm lonely. It's an interesting mixture. I hope Tara is well. I'm doing the right thing for me. By extension and contemplated logic, I believe it's the right thing for her too. I suppose I shouldn't think about it much. I know my recent actions are more right than easy. I'm remembering to focus on just being human.

I'm not drinking much. I didn't quit, but it seems to have scaled itself back with no concerted effort. I expect that I haven't seen the last of booze-worry, but for now it's no problem. And to double-underline, my worry with booze is more about reaching hypothetical potential and less about health or dependence of any sort. I'm always fine. And sober or not, I won't be running for office, going to grad school, or looking for high-paying employment. You can keep your typical ideals in a concrete box and sink them in the ocean. I aspire to be more colorful daily.

I sat in my new surroundings; beautiful and welcome - them and me. Mike sent me a text to make sure everything was alright. Exceptional, buddy. Quite good.

Floating West and making hummus.

7:21pm. After a day of work at the bicycle shop, I'm riding west with Kyler and Brian. We maintain a quick confident pace. Three bicycles, three sets of bar-end shifters. Three steel bicycles. Mine by far is the most cheap goofy and humble. A non-sentient extension of myself. We all have smart setups with character, logic, reliability and utility. We floated to the west, and I was happy to be in the short parade. Friends to commute with? What a novel idea.

Shelly and Arden took me out to the movies. It was an easy way to stay occupied as the fresh insanity of my mental state settles into something more secure and predictable. Shelly also showed me how she makes hummus. It's cheaper and easier than I remembered, and I'll never need a recipe.

West Philadelphia is home.

Today was the day to think about vans. Today was the day to figure out the shape of what is coming next. Van or no van? It sits dirty and abandoned. The inside has gotten damp, and there is mold. When I closed the rear sliding side window, it shattered. It looks like a dirty piece of shit.

I'm not used to being a vehicle owner. I'm out of practice. It seems like an expensive anxiety-inducing situation, and I'm trying to simplify my life and gain some momentum. I considered selling the van just to be rid of it. Fortunately, a supportive mother and another good friend with her feet planted firmly on the earth convinced me to do what I actually wanted: keep it. My dad would have had me sell it today for a dollar and not look back. So I knew I should definitely consider keeping it.

To work, then! I hooked up the newly-charged battery to the terminals and cranked it on. I rolled to the car wash where I spent many quarters. I started to recognize a vehicle which was more familiar. I took everything out. It was either trash, or it was getting washed. Two piles. I took care of the moldy areas, and spent time with carpet cleaner and a shop vac. It's my van again.

I renewed my registration, signed up for a knitting class, and even made a couple tie dye shirts with a kit I've been meaning to finally use.

I'm sorting out my life. I don't know the future, but I know it will be good. I see a ton of potential. I think it might be great.

Wawa coffee paid for with a twenty; put the balance on pump 19.

I drove to Philly wearing a cowboy hat an re-programming the presets on my radio. I drove right to the old house on Howard to get my shit.

Basic civility can't hide the fact that Nat hates me. He was there as I took a few boxes and a bicycle - the sum of what I allowed to build up in this house. If hate is over stepping it, I at least know that he doesn't want to see me. I shut the door hard for the second time out of two that we've last seen each other. I put my foot on the accelerator and I knew I wouldn't be back for a long time. That particular dust needs a long time to settle.

West Philadelphia is the capital of awesome. I love it here, and it's been too long since I've felt like it was home. I crossed the river and found easy parking. I will be staying at Shelly's for a couple days until arrangements can be made to get me into the next place to float.

I laid under some covers reading a Kindle when Shelly's roommate came in for a visit. I knew she was awesome, but it was nice to finally talk for a bit. I've been socially removed. I love West Philly, and I'm eager to make a strong effort to meet people and be outside. That's who I am.

The future begins to come into focus.

I talked to Mike. We used to be in an awesome band, and he thinks he might want to try playing music together again. I couldn't agree more. I still listen to the CDs we recorded years ago, and I'm still a big fan. I'd like nothing more than to get better at playing drums again and record some new music. I think that playing in front of crowds is the happiest I've ever been. It's way up there.

I asked Mike if he knew of any rooms available in West Philly. He did, in fact. He was paying $250 per month to rent an attic room and he hadn't set foot in there for months. He seemed sure that I could sublet with a possibility of taking over the room officially. Some guys from Dr. Dog live there, and I already know those guys. I wasn't expecting that finding a place to sleep would be so easy. Amazing. I was expecting and imagining that I would move back into the van - but for $250 this was just too good! Utilities included, no less.

Everything is working out. In a surreal and exciting way, pieces are fitting together faster and easier than I ever thought possible. I'm happy. I'm very happy.

I drove to West Chester to hang out with Danielle and Gary. I gave them the updates, and I couldn't hide my hopeful excitement from spilling over the edges. I couldn't, and I wouldn't want to.

The post in which a breakup occurs.

It's 7:21pm. I'm sitting passenger-side in Tara's car. We're in the turn lane to get out of Hockessin Delaware where the reliable booze store exists. We're headed back to the Pennsylvania side of the line where obtaining beer requires more forethought. That shitty song that goes "your sex is on fire" is playing on the radio. I hate that song. In my brain, a certain Jason Aldean track is playing. In my brain I'm 40 feet below the surface of a lake.

I have a beer in my hand and a bottle of whiskey at my feet. We're headed to Tara's folks house because they're out of town. I can't do it anymore.

I can't do it. It just doesn't feel right. I plow through half the whiskey, and now it's late. I tell her I'm leaving. (Where did that come from?) I'm leaving for good. Right now. On foot. I tell her I need to go right away. She pleads with me to stay. Just come to bed and sleep.

No. I can't do that. I'm leaving right now.

She persists.

I firmly refuse. I can't do it. It's not fitting, and it's not meant to be. I'm walking out right now. I have to go.

I walk out into a rainy night. I'm drunk and it's pitch black outside. I have what I estimate to be a few hours of walking ahead of me. I immediately get lost in darkness, and when I find my way, I realize that I've made a wrong turn - right out of the driveway.

I find the road and I walk. I'm insane, but I feel relief. My firm decision will not be reversed. This needs to be done, and somehow momentum has found me. The timing was a unique brand of unpredictable, but the outcome is the same. It had to happen some time. It had to. I proceed along the side of the road, walking through a misty rain. I know I did the right thing.

I see headlights and I put out my thumb. No rides for scary night people. I put out my thumb again, and a car pulls over. I actually have a foot in the car and I'm swinging myself in before I realize that this is Tara's car. The conversation was light as we headed to my house.

It was about two years ago when we first hit it off. I still think she's good. I want her to be better off than she'd be with me. I want to be better off myself. It took a long time and a couple botched breakups, but now it's happening.

It was hard to process. I got out of the car. A stone cold expression obscured question marks and exclamation points spilling from my ears. I made it to the kitchen in my parents house. Alone. I made a strange growling sound as my chest tried to explode out of my eyes. I squinted and growled and flapped my hands. And that was it. Next chapter starts now.

Small-World moments.

I rode out to West Philly to buy a $10 bicycle stem from a guy on Craigslist. He's on the 49th and Cedar block. I rented a basement on that block when I started my original used bicycle business. I couldn't remember the exact address, but I went to the house which I thought was correct.

A girl who I recognized walked out, and I asked "does Adam live here?"

I tried to scan my memory for why this girl looked familiar. I was in bicycle mode, and I was thinking bicycle people.

"You... uh... gave me a ride out to Iowa a few years ago," she reminded me.

"Holy shit! Savannah! Dude, how are you doing?"

So I rode all the way across Philly with the wrong address in my head - but the address happened to be hers. What a trip. We talked for a few minutes before I went and got the stem.

Napping and drinking mad Lion's Heads

7:21pm? I'm falling asleep during some lame movie that I'm watching with Tara. I'm about to wake up and drink eleven beers and fade from reality as I hang out with my friend Dave.

Sold a Schwinn, baby!

I'm working a little bit late at the shop. I sold a used bicycle to a customer with a lot of questions. I'm in friendly mechanic mode. We're talking about how to ride and how awesome riding is. Bicycles are the best things ever, and I think it's obvious how enthusiastic I am about bicycles when I have conversations like this with a customer. I want everyone to get a decent bicycle and see how easy life can be.

Lentils and rice.

I'm getting shitty drunk while making lentils and rice. Tara's work-friend came over for a visit and I'm shirtless, sweaty, and shittier by the minute.

Working on the Hoopty

7:21pm: I'm making some changes to the Hoopty. I'm swapping out the handlebars and stem, and trying to get a better dialed-in position.

I'm at the shop sharing some drinks with a guy who started right as I was leaving for my trip. We talked for a long time, and I was happy to discover that now I have a new friend. Like everyone else, he lives in West Philly.

I hurt Shelly's feelings through poor communication, and I will continue to feel like shit about it until we can talk.

I'm mooching. I'm freeloading.

I didn't come back from my trip with a lotta dosh. I came back with a plan of being better with my money. I came back aiming to be super-frugal.

Me and Tara have still been going to restaurants. But now that I'm being frugal, I guess that just means she pays the bill. I don't want a free lunch. I want a cheap healthy lunch in the park on a sunny afternoon.

I'm also staying at this house, and I'm not paying rent. I feel like I'm freeloading big time.