I was screaming hot tears into my pillow until I suddenly remembered my new pink bicycle, my Lola Divine, and the freedom she offers me. I got out of bed, I geared up, I found a ride, and I didn't care about anything, I just got on my bike and rode.
The ride itself was burdened with flat tires, but the ride to and from China Town was a pleasant meditation. Before heading out I had painted three silver streaks under my right eye to symbolize my tears. When I reached the meet up, I realized I had rubbed the paint off. I had wiped away the tears, I had forgotten about them.
When I returned home, I treated myself to an order of french fries and a Cherry Coca-Cola at Astro Burger. Seated with my bike inside, I did a little bit of writing.
I tapped on his shoulder. He started.
"I think it's time for you to go now," I said.
I looked into him for a sign. I wanted him to fight, I wanted him to pour his confessions into my ear, I wanted him to just disappear, and take all these memories with him.
Nothing.
"Okay then. I'll go."
He began walking toward the ocean and then he started walking into the ocean. The water touched his ankles.
"Wait!" I said. I realized I didn't know what I wanted.
Actually, I realized what I should do, but I didn't want to do it.
Writing March 18/19 2009
In about half an hour I am going to head over to the Bicycle Kitchen to tighten my cables and empower myself. The cables have stretched a little, as is typical in new bikes (So I've learned), and last night the chain kept jumping. Lola needs to be ready to scale the hills in San Francisco this weekend.
Jim Croce's "Operator" has found residence in my mind these days. The lyrics offered me insight, and even guided me toward a certain decision. Music these days just does not discuss complicated, sophisticated sentiments. I find that it's music like this that best suits my current state of mind.
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