we grew up together
all the time, i was taller
and all the time, you looked down on me
your gigantic thumb on the back of my neck, holding me down
reminding me of our respective places in life.

i came up and i came out and i made it through, despite your lack of faith
as we walked through the threshold i shot forward
i left you behind
forgot you even existed
my stepping turned into sprinting
i swore to god i would never turn into you
but i'm getting closer to it all the -- NO.



i packed it all up
i dug a hole and i stuffed it all in
i turned my back once again and waved casually over my left shoulder and i didn't even care if you saw it or not

days melted away, ground away, lumbered slowly away
i begin to float
tied balloons filled with my own hot air
i get a little higher
and then a little more
and i look down and there you are.

standing with your feet flat on the ground
you wave at me and you don't even care if i see it or not
you pick up your bow and pull the string taught
and there you go, lobbing those arrows high into the sky

you'll never get me
I won't allow it
you will NEVER GET ME. NO.

something connects
a pop
and i'm coming back to you faster than i can even comprehend

i swore i'd never turn into you.

im closer all the time.


Well, the verdict on my bent wheel has come in from the bike shop.

I'll spare you the words and instead just show you what they pointed out to Mike when he brought it in:

For you non-bikers out there... this is bad. I didn't even see it when I yanked the wheel off the bike and handed it to Mike to take up to the shop.

Mike's story:

"I handed it to the shop monkey to throw on the truing stand so they could check it out, then turned around to go look at socks. About 30 seconds later, I heard from the shop in the back this incredibly loud "Oh, My."

So yeah... That's going to hurt the 'ol pocketbook.

Next time... I'm going to just ride right over the damn mutt. It couldn't possibly hurt the bike more than trying to avoid it (and a lot of good THAT did, I still got bit).

Stupid dog.


I made one dog the happiest dog of all time today.

You know how, when you go out and run or bike, there's always some dog that takes chase for a little bit and just barks and yips and such? I like to think they're saying aloud, "Oh, yeah! This time, you're mine! I'm gonna get ya, hell yeah I am!"

Well, the one who chased after me today caught me! Right in the calf! And it hurt! Which is why I'm using exclamation points! So liberally!

I've seen this particular mongrel a few times during my biking treks, so I didn't really worry too much about him today while I was riding. Then I heard a car behind me, so I swerved right to let it pass, and I guess I spooked the pooch because he just tore right into my right calf. During the process, I came off the road and ended up putting a nice bend in my rear wheel (not a cheap thing to fix or replace).

I had a talk with the owners and they assured me that he is up on all his vaccinations and such, and I assured them that I wasn't calling Animal Control or any of that nonsense. I just thought they needed to know what happened because, if I were, say, 7 years old, they'd be in jail and the dog would end up being put down. They were very very nice people, and I think they take really good care of the mutt otherwise.

The only part that really sucked was having to ride back about 7 miles on a wobbling back wheel. Oh, and the fiery pain shooting through my calf. And the fact that one of my bike shoes has blood soaked into the insides of it.

Other than that, my Sunday was grand! How was yours??


I just finished an article for a fairly well-known technology-related magazine called "Blogs: An Introduction." I spent nearly 2,800 words along with 8 screenshots and captions introducing readers of this periodical to the world of blogging, detailing the various blogging services and subjects and methods of updating and so on and so forth.

It really could be boiled down to this simple paragraph:

"This magazine you're holding lacks the tools necessary to be as interactive as is really necessary to teach you all you should know about blogging. So what I want you do to is fire up your browser, go to livejournal.com, look for any user with "luv" "sexy" "69" or "beer" in their name, then grab a wad of your own hair behind your head, shove your own face into the screen and say aloud, 'Is THIS what you want to be like? HUH? IS IT?!?'"


"Oh man, Bobby, your tattoos look SO X-TREEEEEEM stretched out like that!"

"Dad's gonna FREAK when he finds this picture on my dresser! Turned face up, not hidden at all!"

I don't have a caption for this. This is just fucking stupid.

I don't get it. I mean, I get a LOT of stuff. I get tattoos. I get piercings. I get dressing differently. This, however... I don't get this.

They SAY it creates euphoria, that it makes you feel weightless.

Now, I've BEEN fishing. I've seen how fish react to being hooked, and the word I would use to describe it is most certainly not "euphoric" - and let me assure you, when you weigh more than, say, a medium sized dog, you'll very soon begin to understand just how weightless you AREN'T when your skin starts to split as the metal begins to tear through it. Want to feel weightless? Go sky diving. Want to be X-TREEEEEEM like the deodorant you wear? Grab a megaphone, travel to Detroit or Atlanta, and run down the street shouting racial epithets. Now THAT, my fucked up little friends, is extreme.

The only thing I can say about these people is that life is just too safe for them.


You are 28 years old!!

What age are you? Take the
and tell all your friends!


It's DAYLIGHT SAVING TIME* at Planet Earth!

That's right! Now through October, the prices on our daylight inventories have been slashed to give you BIG SAVINGS! If you've been considering picking up a new Daylight, now's the perfect time to shop here at Planet Earth. We've got the largest selection of daylight around - if it's daylight you want, Planet Earth's your place to get it. So come on down to Planet Earth, and bring the kids for a free hot dog** or some shit.

*Not valid in Arizona, Hawaii and most of Indiana.
** hot dog not made of real dog.