Here, I made a video for you to see. Also, you should see # by my acquaintance Ewen Wright. In fact, if you had a choice to watch only one, you should watch his video (which the voice in my head pronounces as "pound" and "hash", alternatingly)—mine is just fast yoga... there aren't any archetypical allegories serving to illuminate the nature of our foolish and contradictory habits of alienation. I should have written one of those into Autumnal Yoga.
I've been studying Spanish and refreshing my Italian on duolingo.com. I recommend that you do the same—I mean—not necessarily Spanish and Italian... but get on there, and compete with me! I'll totally stomp you at learning!
Not currently suffering from any symptoms of Writing Bug bite. I got my thrills elsewhere recently. But I'll offer this quote to you (me): "It makes you anxious because you identify with his motivations, but not his actions." As an added bonus, you (I) get this list of valid scrabble words that I've learned this week: FANE, GETA, NAM, NIM, DUIT, BRIN.
Oh wow! A draft from long ago that was never published, but now is (written on 20 June, 2010)—furthermore, it reminds me to type up my recent Bike Ride of Nearly Icy Doom, a Denver event, (winter 2011).
set(tle) down now
I was on my way home from the store (where I purchased a almost-local brew, in lieu of cheaper imported wine, because I was drawn to supporting an unusually ecological and bike-positive company). As I approached a newly-turned red light, I slowed significantly, checked both ways, and continued to pedal through it when I decided it was obvious that there were no vehicles or pedestrians anywhere in the vicinity at all — except for a car that pulled up and stopped at the light just as I pedaled on.
"Hey, asshole!" someone shouted at me — I slowed and turned to look. "Yea, you gotta stop, too!" a fellow exclaimed at me from the passenger side of the car at the light. I scowled instinctively and slowed to a stop to wait for them and invite a discussion. The light turned green, and on came the little car. I gestured something that clearly suggested we talk about it — but they drove on past, again shouting; this time something that I couldn't discern. I once counted from my porch in Albuquerque: 23 of 25 cars passing the intersection were single-occupant. That's a lot percent.