Sketchbook Aug 16 2008, Writing Aug 16 2008

Just as I was gasping for air, barely surfacing the murky waters of despair, my friends came and rescued me from the sidewalk. By remarkable chance, they had been driving up my street and recognized the small figure hunched on the curb trailing cigarette smoke. I couldn't help myself - I burst into tears. Without question, the car door was opened, I was caressed with words of reassurance, and taken to Scoops for a bowl of ice cream in the infamous Bicycle District on Heliotrope at Melrose. Though I sampled the basil ricotta ice cream, I decided on a scoop of passionfruit jasmine and - by strong recommendation - coconut ginger. We named the tropical concoction The Pool Boy.

I will never doubt my friends again.

In other news: I have really fallen in love with my bike.

I never thought I'd become one of those bike people. (To be honest, I'd classify myself as a wannabe-fixie-hipster.) But here I am, sipping a soy iced coffee and adoring my bike in front of me as if we were on an afternoon Starbucks date.

My bike is distinctly male. Not because he's a massive mountain bike, not because of his fat tires, and not because he says Gary Fisher on the side. He's male because when he's between my legs, it's exhilarating sex magic...go ahead, let your imagination run with that one.

It's this intimacy that quickly secures a deep bond between you and your bike. And while your lovers, your friends, and your family may all desert you, your bike will always be leaning against your kitchen wall, ready and eager for the next adventure. Your bike will never leave you and will never judge you, though you may take a turn too fast or nearly lose a death race with an impossible traffic light. Your bike will go anywhere you take him, even to the register at the 7-11 for a pack of smokes, and you'll lift him like a princess up the stairs, just so he can sit safely beside you while you smoke at your friend's apartment.

Some of my brightest moments during this time of seemingly endless darkness have been in the saddle, pushing each other up the Hollywood hills, knowing that somewhere somehow things will be easier, and it'll be all downhill from there.

Writing Aug 16 2008