Why would you ride a tall bike?

Today I saw a man riding a tall bike. He was weaving down the sidewalk around people on their way to class. Then I though to myself, why would you bother with such a tall bike? I can’t think of any advantages other than being able to see above some things. It’s harder to get on, less stable, goofy looking, hard to carry around, and impossible to put on your car. So, from this reasoning I figure the guy riding is doing it solely for the attention and this bothers me. But then I think Well, why not just let the guy be different? That can be okay. It’s true, it’s okay to different for the sake of being different, right? Isn’t that art then? Yes, I can be okay with that idea. Let the guy ride his stupidly tall bike and maybe even enjoy watching him ride by instead of my regular snide observations. That’s what I’ll do, I’ll be okay with difference, even if it is for the sake of showboating.
The next day I saw the guy on the tall bike again.
Show-off, prick thought I.
Sorry world, I’ll work on it.

Oh! Sleep!

The weight of sleep shows up in all places, at anytime. It is not polite or respectful. It won’t be considerate of company and it doesn’t care how much shit you have to get done. Sleep, Sleep, Sleep. It is so angry when you leave. It puts hooks attached to strings in your body. It throws gunk in your eyes. It picks up fatigue from your care, but leaves lethargy with you for a brief time. Sleep, if you didn’t have such big arms, I would hate you.

The Comedy of Butter

Butter. Put it on you toast, your sandwich, your muffin, your waffle, your peas, your potato, your lefse, your corn-on-the-cob; Hell, just grab a stick of butter, dip it in sugar, and take a big bite! Mmmm…delicious. I suppose I don’t think about it since butter has been around almost forever, but what a silly thing to eat! Yes, it tastes wonderful to taste but….

In the U.S. products sold as butter are required to have at least 80% fat.

80% fat. What a majority. Let’s consider then that butter = fat.

Do you think it’s funny that we spread fat on food to make it taste better? Seriously, we keep fat in a glass case on the table during dinner. It’s funny.

Rising Tire

I figured love was like a rising tire. When it is low or flat you fill it, watch it filling, feel it filling. A dramatic time that lends itself to saturated delight. You relish the filling of the tire and after its full you maintain it; When its low you fill it again - you’re favorite part. This continues until you die. But love, you see, isn’t anything like this, at least I don’t think so these days. Maybe love is a problem that you always work towards solving. You’ll get close, even thinking you have the resolution for awhile. It’s like one of those huge math problems that grad students work on, except the warm feeling of love can’t contain absolute figures. Its mad of elusive, varying shapes, confounded feelings and wild animals. Love is a problem, no resolve. That doesn’t mean I’m asking you to stop trying. It requires that you always hope to solve and therefore always work to solve.

It’s the way you hated your brother or sister while growing up, buy you would have killed someone for hurting them. You had a thick love for them on your insides. That’s relationship. That’s interaction. Problems, mess, hate, stink, and saying stupid things.

The Elements of Touch

I am not interested, I am not interested, I am not. Then intrigue, because it is creeping outside my window, appears and entertains me through the medium of touch. When I am trying my best to put to rest the women that casually lounge on the font porch of my mind; you know, when I politely ask them to leave, they gracefully linger and then loiter on my front lawn for, sometimes, years. Now, when they are finally escaping my thoughts, even as they cross the threshold of the gate, there is one thing that can bring them back: TOUCH. She touches me meditatively and before I can do much about it she’s back on the porch, sipping lemonade, talking weather and politics with the other girls.

Punching

She’s looking for cause in her life. I don’t know how to help her. I suppose all of us are looking for that to some degree. I thought about punching someone today and thought about how I would never do it because I hardly have a cause great enough in my life to punch someone for. It made me want one, I wanted a reason to punch someone in the face, feeling no remorse afterward.

In the Spirit of Easter...

Halloween. There were big buckets of candy. Sometimes, candy from my sisters…Well, it wasn’t really from them. I took it from them when they weren’t looking. Eating stolen candy that once belonged to my sisters. Take that sisters.