That dress is fitting too perfect at the moment, I'm going to slide myself into jeans and start chugging mexican dark roast instead. Jitters and shakes into self realization of life, it's pretty easy to get caught up in the advantages of living in a University city. Promises of free seem to stain the streets. So does the smell of mucus pouring from the crowds. Time out for this brown bandit!My body,brain, and heart needs a rest from these things. That seems to be the theme this season.
I'll be back very shortly, with out the sounds of twigs snapping.
Have a good week readers, and remember to keep that head up when spinning.
What sounds at first like a brief coda ends up extending for a full minute, laying out the bleak future of two people brought together by loneliness rather than love.
The Bandit is feeling like a puddle of brown goo, washed up sewer drainage from the rusted city pipes. A few tell-tell signs that I'm getting older, like all the men I dated before.
Brittle, Broken, and Draining. (no offense sir's) I actually now understand the grumpiness.
Sudden reaction from allergies, brittle back, and washed up mind. Having a cold brings out the yuck in you.
Day dreaming has become my best friend this week and I know it's due to the fact my runny nose is blocking me from my night dreams. I've filled up my notepad with quick scheme cash ideas, to hit jingles, and my favorite idea by far this week is this ultimate breakfast... Cranberry walnut frittata, on blue berry cornbread. Can't wait for Sunday Brunch. This entry is a ramble rant, I do apologize.
Here is my wrap up;
Even though I'm losing my brain at this moment by bicycle is keeping it screwed on tightly.
Befriending an Old Professor ends all the bad grades I'd been feeling.
The marriage is off, I want REAL love. The Sickly kind.
Mitch S. you are the greatest listener/friend I've ever know. Thank you for all the inspiring words, music and advice you send my way. Your feedback keeps me typing and at some points, trying. Without you, there would be no gun for hire. Kayla, it's been very nice to have another women down for riding around with me, roller coaster hill bike rides!
Cold or no-cold I'm still attending mass to fill up the streets with laughter and shouts of pride! Then to attend a pot luck with fellow female riders, if you see me on the streets don't be shy, join in or say hi.
They all seem to sneak up on you at the right time, those little notes & doodles from months before.
Hidden reminders that you tucked away deeply, never to be seen again. Always revealing themselves at the appropriate time. For nostalgia sake it happens when it rains.
Maybe I should lay off 1970 Czech films that involve a thirteen year old girl having disorienting dreams in which she is seduced by priests, vampires, men and women. Maybe if they showed this in sex education classes in Corpus, the pregnancy rate would be dramatically lower.
I know I'd think twice about kissing someone in fear of it possibly being a vampire after my menstruation blood! I learned my lesson, Never again will I live in Santa Carla.
It's been a progressive week so far, After having a tall extended stem that was completely unnecessary on Algar for over a year now I found the right fit Monday! Due to the fact that Joseph wasn't feeling very uncomfortable with his set up on his new bike. A classic switch- a-roo was called for. We're both pedaling a whole lot happier now. It's such a different ride & feel now, I don't know how I went on for so long with out it. It feels nice to have a little spice to the my 'Ol British man. Much more aggressive ride.
Speaking of Spice Those of you that have been around me lately, have heard how I'm going to reign supreme in this event! But it will probably end with me eating dirt and getting some mean road rash, it's for a good cause. If your a lady and want to pedal for breast and babies, join! All benefits go to Mother's Milk Bank of Austin.
I'd like to take this second to thank everyone that has shown interest in this new form of outlet in my writing. There's so much more progress to be made but I finally feel like I'm expressing who I am threw this thing. And not just "The idea" of me. I've received nothing but positive feedback and much praise for the set of tit's at the top of the page. That's how they suck you in, with tits!
I now leave you with some parting words from Manny Coon.
"People are living in things that have happened, the 60's have happened, Your parents have taken all the drugs they can take, You've had the 70's, you had heavy metal- get with it, it's over with, wake up. Kids are living in re-runs, the same crap over and over & their minds get closed tighter and tighter, it's such a waste. The same political crap, the radio IS DEAD. I think the whole thing is going to fall down to this lower level, cause I know kids are getting into it, they don't have anything else. What we have at these shows, and with these records- this is OUR battle field, this is where we will be fighting about what we're for. We don't have access to all the things people in the 60's had, we have to do it all ourselves, which means we have to get happening, we HAVE to get with it."
I've finally got my greedy little paws on it, the book that has been mention to me for some years now. With my delayed efforts to pursue it (just as much as many things in my life) my eyes are drowning in the sea of Michael Azerrad's words. Prying into, Our Band Could Be Your Life.
Thankfully, there is a generous neighbor that passes me questionable brownies, reserves, and literature. During our usual cigarettes-balcony discussion rants, Dinosaur Jr. was brought up. This tortured man eyes light up as he poured out his appreciation and affection for this band. He was too caught up in a fit of words that he flickered his smoke in such a panic, ran into his bedroom, and returned with the only book I needed to be in possession with at this moment. Thank you kindly again, Max.
The lifestyle I lead at times can be questionable, in a good ways though I promise. The people in my life are just trying to get by and make the best of doing it themselves. Question everything, stand up for your believe system, and if times called for it; Out run/Out smart the cops. The culture and life style we apply has always been DIY. There's no other way I'd rather feel the music then being in a swamp pit of arm pits and anger. A cause for change.
"And not only could you jam econo with your band- you could jam econo on your job, in your buying habits, in your whole way of living. You could take this particular approach to music and apply it to just about anything else you wanted to. You could be beholden only to yourself and the values and people you respected. YOU could take charge of your own existence." -Azerrad
Eight thirty am, the brown warrior stretches and fights the comfort of falling back to more adventurous dreams then her daily rituals.
she rises to jump on the only man she loves...his purple sleek frame with that golden yellow that proudly displays his name.
Gently making sure he's ready for her legs, she places her self on his saddle and did the only thing she knew how to do, ride!
Threw the parks of hyde, she finds herself out of place in these parts but with him beneath her she brushes it off.
Dodging the meat heads on four wheels, turning with such sly ways down an alley way she appears.
And for that one moment, silence.
From the newly placed condos and eager drooling eyes of the animals that use jack hammers to strip away the class.
They were all gone.
Golden vibrant leaves splashed in front and kissed her face.
She was home.
That is until the brutal sound of an engine behind her started reviving it's testosterone levels.
Making sure that she was to hear their dis-taste in her ability to get where she was going with her two legs and heart.
Pay no attention young one, you belong here just as anybody else.
.....
Just you, Algar, and The Road.
We Live in Paradise
We sat with our eyes feasting on the city that we owned.
Nothing more should ever be said between the two, except the silent hissing of the wind and the stinging sensations of the sprinkler system the city controls.
pushing on the pedals.
strain...passion...a fight!
my veins are starting to pulsate with blood again, bold pumping blood.
I am starting to function, in the unremarkable way .
