man who says writing is not primarily cathartic? I feel great now.

mike, mk, jill, nice to see y'all.

After doing my usual stint at Spot writing this thing, I walked outside because I was afeared, caused by something I think I saw.
Yet what I witnessed was true and real and I had to rub my eyes because I couldn't believe someone would have the gall.

Like I do occasionally, I road my bike (motorcycle) to Spot and parked it beside the other bikes. I went in, wrote shit, and then to my horror I saw a volvo station wagon parked within inches of my bike.

fucking inches people.

I stood there, helmet in hand eyeing the car. I then eyed those on the patio who in turned eyed me back. Talking ceased momentarily and after some banal converstion about the size of my engine on my SV, I turned to the patio and said, "Is this anyone's car?"
One lady looked at me, and I asked her directly. "Is this your car."
She said no.

I then took it a step further because I am more apt to do that these days and parking within inches of a motorcycle is like the watching the scene in which Old Yeller is about to die, over and over.

"Just so you know," I said. "Never park this close to a motorcycle." People agreed. I then added, "It's taking much effort on my part not to take my helmet and place a huge scrape along this hood." I then realized and said to the crowd, "I should go."

I was pissed. Why does that bring on so much anger? Because it's another example of people disrespecting a person's space. The irony is that on the other side of the car, there was five feet of clearance.

A word to the wise - people who ride motorcycles are not rational when it comes to themselves, or their bikes being threatened. A biker once told me that a lady once cut him off and thought nothing of it. At the next intersection, he got off his bike, and put he his boot through her headlights and then rode off, not saying a word.

When I was hit by a car, and he drove away, I ran after the kid and caught him. That's another story, but it was a situation in which I had to decide to not grab him and pull him out of the car as compared to him doing it on his own volition. It would have been jail time and very messy. Point is, when your life is threatened, you become something else.

And when you park too close to my bike, I get upset.

I wonder the same . . .

I always feel compelled to write something when I get home from the, well, from going out, and inevitably the next day, in class or at work, I think, holy shit, I probaly sound like a 12 year old kid who's just tried acid for the first time.

Thus, it has happened again. But yet, I am not so distraught about the entry below. I am surprised at the level of comprehension I have sometimes. Anyhow, I wish more people would write fucked up drunken rants (Not that the entry below is, but you should have seen what I deleted prior to posting). Like Matthew, Terry, and Paul for example. Let's all request a fucked up drunken rant from these fine gents.

This way I will not be the one, lone, statistic.

God speed.

OKay, well that's just embarrassing. Yes okay I did ask a certain RObin to a certain midi prom, buT i have unfortunately misplaced my invite made by a certain miss Emily. Alas. I think it's coming up, but I don't know when as of right now. The invite could be serving as my bookmark in Moliere's the Misanthrope, but who's to say. I'll figure it out, but EMily, if you feel like assisting, lemme know. When's tha shindig? Robin, if you want to go, cool because I am an amazing fine and fun dat-ay. But if not, that's cool too, but it'll be fun if we go as asshole dates, carrying on the theme. KNow what I mean? Sweet then . . .

um, I gotta get some sleep prior to physics a demain. See ya.

Paul . . . oh you . . . We's got's some scores to settle. Watch yo back my friend, s'all I's got to say. night all.