I was spitting and drooling all over myself. It was wonderful.

There's nothing quite like coming home sweaty from a below-freezing bike ride. I just got home, obviously. Fun night. See below.

I thought I had the winter biking wardrobe issues conquered, and then I overdressed for my ride up to Delilah's last night. I got to the bar and was really sweating, even though I had unzipped my windbreaker and let my one long sleeve shirt hang out in the wind. Then tonight, wearing about the same thing, I froze my fucking dick off during Critical Mass (due to the slow riding pace) and then of course sweated my sack off riding at speed post-Mass.

I met Laura W., Alicia and Alexis at Delilah's last night for Ska Night. The cops were blocking Cortland off again around the Finkl steelworks. I don't know why they do it so frequently. Alicia and Laura showed up at D's later, and I didn't realize they had arrived until Laura rubbed my fuzzy head from behind. Alicia seemed surprised Alexis was there. Alicia asked me to make her some mix CDs - I have the list somewhere, and hopefully I can get to it in a decent period of time. Laura and Alicia didn't realize how late it was and had to leave suddenly, and I ended up with Laura's almost full Duchesse. I moved down the bar and sat and talked with Chuck for a good long while, as usually happens when alone at Ska Night.

Chuck gave me a copy of the new Deal's Gone Bad record. He gave me a copy of the LP dub version of Go Jimmy Go's latest as well, but I had to give it back since I had no way to carry the damn thing home on my bike with no bag.

I really need to start cooking for myself again. It's been a while, aside from frozen gyoza and gourmet sausages. That simple shit doesn't count. I guess part of the problem is that I'm so damn tired, or get fed elsewhere. Yesterday I dined on a half bag of baby carrots, free pizza lunch, and whatever leftover chex mix and pretzels Chuck and I begged from Delilah's at the end of the night.

On the ride home I was singing Lawrence Arms songs so profusely, I was spitting and drooling all over myself. It was wonderful.

The topic of friends reading my blog has come up in conversations with several different people this week. I had one friend tell me she felt voyeuristic the few times she's read it, and another tell me she had to pretend she hadn't read it so she didn't ruin some story I was telling - I told her the story wouldn't have been ruined; don't worry, the blog would be hidden and secret if I intended it to be...

Dana called me last night and we talked for a good while. She has a positive outlook on so many things, it's often very refreshing to talk to her. (Sometimes overly optimistic, like the time she told me the girl I'd talked to for one night in Michigan was going to be my future wife. Uh, nope. But the optimism was appreciated at the time.)

I get new mysterious grease stains on everything. How did grease get on my left fucking knee last night? How did it get onto the top surface of my rear bike rack? How did it get onto my nose earlier? The great unknown...

I finished Bill Bryson's A Walk In the Woods last night. I picked it off my shelf since Ryan K. had mentioned he'd read it and really enjoyed it. At the end of it, I was thinking of how Ryan used to walk all over the city late at night, when he wasn't working and was out late a lot. I suppose it can be rather relaxing, the simple physical exertion and repetition of it.

I was telling Alexis last night that biking around the city makes me, or maybe more accurately, lets me see it differently. Every trip I make doesn't have some nondescript "in-between" but rather a constant change of locale at a rate that allows it to be experienced. Plus I'm not encased in a 2,000-pound climate-controlled cage.

I need to superglue my shoes again to make sure the soles stay on.

Last summer, I was wearing my "choose your weapon" shirt, with a bike and tank , at my grandparents' farm town. All the loving Christians in my family loved it (truthfully). Of course, they all still vote for Bush "because he's a good Christian." Puke.

I was handing out the remainder of the Special Export that Kamiar gave me during the Mass tonight. At the end, I was standing out in the middle of Chicago Ave drinking with a bunch of punk kids, who in turn shared their homemade honey wine and invited me down to Happiness House for both more wine and rock music.

They had a huge cooler full of homebrewed honey wine, generously spiced with ginger, and I ended up discussing the nature of revolution and social change with some squatter girl, and how human psychology and lasting change dictate the slow conversion of large numbers of people and progressive cultural change. It was nice to talk with people who see the status quo as something worth changing and improving, and can visualize a different world worth taking action for.


I didn't get any pictures of the first guy to play, but it was some guy with a banjo, and it was a pretty fucking great showing. I have a newfound respect for the banjo, especially when played fast and loud with raw vocals and a great sense of humor. Some disco/dance-punk band played next, and they were pretty fun as well, although the whole band was a one-off for this show I think. They played "Going to Georgia," which made my night.

Right now I'm fucking zonked, and I've got a ton of work to do this weekend for my presentation next Wednesday, especially considering that Dana asked me to go out for her birthday on Tuesday night. I need to shower and sleep.