memories : transformation

fingers and toes were
the soft rubber of tires
hands and feet were forks

ankles became cranks
knees legs shoulders back and eyes
cloaked in plastic skins



the moment


It's a strange feeling; the parts which function best disappear into streamilned invisible synergy. I am a dancer, and I can feel it when my shoe is slightly mislaced. I am an engine; I know when a belt is slipping. I become acutely aware of spoke tension, wheel shape, the flex in the drivetrain- there are microscopic flecks of dirt working their way out of the grease. I can sense the moment of slippage, when friction is overcome. We are one in this wild configuration. I am my bike, my bike is me. A salmon leaping against the current, against gravity- I race up hills against traffic, against sanity. My food is speed and wind.

I feel sunshine welling up within me as I near a summit. Something wants to escape. Something is very close, near breaking- I don't know what it is, but I can feel it posturing at my core. Is it some nirvana.. or just another gear? Will I achieve, attain, discover the source of this sensation- or is it my heart, begging for release? I flash that it might be my death at the top of this peak. I know I'm working too hard... I must slow down.. My mind momentarily pictures a grassy field to lie in, napping under the clouds and the sky. I can't breathe, I can't see, and all I hear is thunder, two hundred and ten times a minute. I push. I leap. I fly. Again and again.

the bear went over the mountain, the bear went over the mountain.

food for thought

everything in our society is sex
everything in our society is instant gratification

When instantly gratifying, sex is neither gratifying nor sexy.

discuss.

letter to a bad friend

I must care about our friendship to some extent, or I wouldn't get distracted second-guessing meself. I think I'm just a little sad that it's come to this.

I could theoretically continue to relate to you and appreciate whatever positive you can offer, but expecting nothing; see, it's my expectations of how friends should treat one another that makes me upset (when not met). I guess if I really could feel that way I would call, write, whatever. Except me carrying our friendship is not a healthy friendly relationship; as I have not learned to live without expectations.

You cannot do your best; I can no longer hope you ever will. You never have. I want to be your friend but I gotta let you know I have no faith in you whatsoever to act like a friend. You can neither be there for me nor give it to me straight. You will be the best-weather friend a person could ask for; you just don't care. So I guess I don't wanna be your friend. Fuck You.


You are a terrible friend and I'm happier not speaking to you privately.