out of clay he formed...

alright. got a new bike. here's the question: is it stolen or simply found?
i was biking home from somewhere (the bar) and saw a bike on the bike rack in front of kava house in eastown. i noticed it was unlocked so i turned around to check it out. it was about 1:00am, keep in mind. sure enough, the thing is unlocked. its seat is fucked up a bit, and the right pedal is missing. so i park and lock my other bike down the road, walk back, take a good look around for anyone who might own this abandoned bike, and ride it home and spray paint it black.
so here's the question: did i steal it or find it? i've heard mixed answers to this and would like some more input.

ouch my side

a horrible crash on the bike friday night. i usually crash my bike when i'm coming home late from the bar or early from the bar, too, i guess. but friday i fell sideways on to the road! a car was coming! AAHHHH! now i have some weird injuries the main one being a bruise on my hip that looks like this:

brushing up on my farsi

i think i'll try to get a job in iraq. you can get a lot of loot. there's a job where all you do is sign people in and out of some area, and it pays 82 grand a year tax-free. but here's my main qualm: what's the whore situation like in iraq? do i have to pay some bitch just to see her forehead? do they import their whores? if so, from where? i know dubai has whores, but i don't really want to have to travel internationally to bone a whore. maybe there's bored soldier's wives on an army base i could bone, but they always get pregnant and then soldier boy would be after me. anyways, if i can feel at peace about the whore factor, i really think i could chill in iraq for some dough.

biking around

i've been biking around a lot, and the bike i have kicks ass. i found it on the side of the road, spray painted it, and adjusted it to sort of fit by freakish body. it is a ten speed mountain bike. since i've been riding the living christ out of it, it has lost its front break, which is dangerous, and the rear break is on the outs as well. it's weird, but my obsessive riding makes it so i'm feeling in really good shape these days. but also maybe my obsessive riding it is because i'm not getting any fucks in lately.

near life experience

of course i can't go into details, but nobody reads this shit anyway because i post once a milleni. but yeah, i almost died. almost fell fifty effin feet into the grand river. oh no, my session is timing out. bye.

Hamilton!

i fell backwards out of the three weeks comprising what all in all has been a swell month into a very swollen right tonsil and neon flem bombarding the roadside on the fast ride to work this morning. there was a weekend of extreme excess and success, with expensive tasty beers and rock and roll and meeting a person or two. then there was an in between weekend with some pretending everything was different then it really is and make believe. and then there was a weekend where i wanted both of the previous weekends but couldn't force it, couldn't make the same cupcake without the secret ingredient, i called old friends and didn't answer when they called back, i wanted to imagine myself as someone successful and real, i wanted that damned chandelier i found more than a year ago in a store and never bought, i wanted to get dance drunk not lose shit drunk and ultimately ended up sick and poor and dejected. all in all a pretty swell month. i bought a lot of records. and i speak, and (upon review) write in far too abstract language. nothing i say makes any sense.

about the bottle room. it might also be turned into one of the following:
1. weight room (aka wasted space)
2. art studio (aka wasted space)
3. iguana room (although i wouldn't want the cold blood of an innocent reptile on my hands, not after franuel)
4. torture/ sex chamber (aka wasted space)
damn. i really need to come up with better uses for it, before the bottle smashing reaches a baneful zenith, and i end up with a shard of green grolsch glass stuck between my toes. any suggestions are welcome.

hooray for everything!

i thought yesterday maybe to start blogging all the time again. i was called out by a muslim whilst biking to a meeting. he remembered the george heist. none of this is relevant. i have a room in my house for smashing bottles. they only give you a half hour on these damn public library computers. i have four minutes remaining. i've decided on something. i left work today. because i felt like it. i might get fired. that's ok. soon other things will happen.