Day 19

Special sauce, lettuce and cheese . . .

These will be my bed partners tonight.  Note to self, don't abandon the apartment with a day old cheeseburger within the dog's reach.  STUPID DOG.  Came home to a catastrophe.  Burger shrapnel everywhere.  It looks like Grimace and the Hamburgler had an orgy on my bed linens.  Just another listless day in the trenches.  Saw a girl eat it on a bicycle this morning.  Made me giggle.  Is that wrong?  The truth of the matter is, it was only a matter of time before I was witness to a gory bicycle accident.  This is of course the home of modern cycling.  Nobody does it better.  It isn't just a means of recreation here.  It is a mode of legitimate transportation.  It is a way of life.  They are so serious about it that the city will give you a free bicycle . . . not a rental . . . free to own.  You really see the full range of two wheel transporation in the streets.  Most of them look like they have seen better days.  Brands that have been abandoned long ago are still in modern circulation.

The truly terrifying aspect of this form of transportation is that the cyclists share their lane with the double jointed city buses.  Like I said, just a matter of time before I would be witness to an accident.  Despite the danger, it truly is the best mode of transportation through the city.  It is so preferred that you see every walk of life astride one of these rolling beasts.  From business men in three piece suits to filthy industrial workers pedaling their way home after a 12 hour shift.  After this morning's accident, I really started to study the art of riding in the city and the multitude of styles that accompany it.  My favorite from this mornings commute was a young lady in high heel suede boots, her purse over her shoulder and a cigaret in her hand.  As if changing a tire in the pits at Talladega she applied her makeup at a red light.  Classic.  I could truthfully dedicate an entire entry just to the variety of riding styles.  I may in fact do that, but not now, not today.  I have other pressing matters.  By the way, I already have a bike of my own picked out at one of the local bike shops.  It should be a matter of time before someone else is giggling at my misfortune.  I will keep you posted.

The relative lull in activity over the past couple of days has brought me to a stark realization.  I am at a crossroads with this thing.  I could simply continue with the mundane daily entry of my life's trivial events, or I could try to make this something more . . . something much more.  The truth of the matter is, I can continue to post the entertaining moments of our lives here and treat this as nothing more than a travel log, or I can attempt to make this a living, breathing thing.  There is nothing wrong with the prior, however, life will slowly and inevitably change from what was once a daily adventure to a weekly adventure and ultimately to the routine and the mundane.  You see, I am not one of those people that like to catalogue their child's every move, nor am I the type of person to waste precious time on something that has no meaning.  So, ultimately, my preference is for the latter.  The creation of something with meaning that my children can read years from now and know where they come from and understand me as a person.  My strengths and my weaknesses . . . my successes and my failings.  Unfortunately, to pull this off, everyone will be exposed to the deeper recesses of my particular brand of dementia.  My views on life, on poetry, on politics, on success and on failure.  Moments of  happiness and sadness.  The truth about love and hate.  My view of the world and where I fit into it  . . . if at all.

The only thing I can promise is that it will be a colorful ride and will not always make a lot of sense.  I have a habit of reading back through what I have written, but never edit anything more then spelling.  It is written as I feel it.  It is a dialogue from the steady stream of my thoughts and observations.  I hope that nobody finds offense in it, but ultimately if you do, I ask that you look the other way.  This will become a statement of who I am and who I desire to be.  Some of it will be humorous and some of it will be saddness, but at the end of the day . . . it will mean something . . . at least to me anyway.