The death of a moon cowboy

I am a somewhat-youth with ideas and thoughts and too many dreams that sometimes overflow as these little dribblings from my fingertips. I guess you can try to collect and capture them.


Thursday, November 02, 2006

I landed hard

Yesterday morning I was riding my bike home from school, and I was trying to do a front-wheelie: an endo, a stoppie--where you hit the front brakes really hard and pop up on a wheelie on your front tire--but when I tried it again (after one mildly successful attempt), I flew end over end (hence the name), landing on my back on the ground in the church parking lot right next to my house, with my backpack trapped by the bike's handlebars. It didn't really hurt at the time, but now I have these small, symmetrically-round, hard lumps on either forearm, and I don't know why--from where I hit the handlebars or the asphalt or something, with equal force on both sides. And my shoulder is sore because I did this really cool roll to get out of it; I wish someone had videoed it--I'd love to see that in action. But no one saw. And the music just kept right on playing.

Before driving to Salt Lake last nite for class, I went to a gas station, like I usually do. I didn't feel like junk food--I'm getting a little better at that--and so I looked around for fruit. The only fruit was in a box of .69 Chiquita bananas on the front counter. I bought one. Let me now just say that it was the single worst banana I've ever eaten. It turned into liquid mush in my mouth. The center was black but the rest looked normal. It tasted like bitter soil. I ate most of it anyway, only because I figured it couldn't really hurt me.

Also last nite, after class, I offically started National Novel Writing Month. I got through a little over 1000 words. Not bad, but I have to keep a better pace than that if I'm going to get anywhere with it. I did stay up until 2:00 though, but the writing's not even really that good. Because right now I'm shooting for quantity only; I can always add the quality later (or can I?).

I am rewriting the story/novel I started long ago, over a year ago. You may it as Highways, Highway Veins, The Circus, and so on--or you may not know it at all. The name I like most right now, that I think I'm sticking with, is Highway Veins. It's the one that won me a prize. But I was lucky. Because the writing is so florid and full of modifiers it's unbelievable. My new version actually looks *too* simple when I compare them. So I'll have to work on adding some description later--that won't be too hard, hopefully.

We saw this show last nite about Pete Seeger. He's great. He's in his eighties, lives in New York, and he's a folk singer. He plays for children, and plays for fun. He's got this long-necked custom banjo that is his signature. He wrote Turn, Turn, Turn. He is a political and environmental activist. He started a foundaation called Clearwater that focuses on cleaning up the Hudson, and he takes kids out on this beautiful old schooner replica he had built. They make strawberry shortcake and hot biscuits. He's a genius. I want to be a genius.

Look up Pete Seeger. You'll fall in love.

Goodbye.

Audio: We Have The Facts And We're Voting Yes|Death Cab For Cutie
Video: Some show about Pete Seeger last nite; the guy is fascinating--I really admire him
Text: The Moonstone|Wilkie Collins

My word of the day:
blackguard
[why: I read it in The Moonstone.]
1 obsolete : the kitchen servants of a household
2 a : a rude or unscrupulous person b : a person who uses foul or abusive language

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

IF IT LOOKS LIKE SHIT.... SMELLS LIKE SHIT... IT PROBABLY IS... A ROTTEN BANANNA!!!


LESSONED LEARNED: DON'T EAT GAS STATION FRUIT!!!