what was that? is that all there is? who is this? this is it.

out of nowhere

or right on schedule

ONE WAY

or another

a minor setback

or a series of physical challenges

microaggressions

password protected arbitrary deadlines

feats of strength

proving grounds

slights

disses

close calls

oblivious third party near misses

undular bores

momentary lapses

as 33 John would say

“I ran into   a bit of a snag”

the other Tuesday I picked up a rather large box out in the 98115 and to bring it back into 98195 I used two long bungee cords to strap it on top of the cargo box. Rolling south I visualzed wind tunnel testing a cargo bike with a stack of boxes on top and it felt like this

that's not the Kirsten I had a crush on in high school that's Frederick Kirsten

finally, in conclusion, because I'm into product placement, brand recognition, consumer loyalty and buying locally I'd like to draw your attention to that slow boat water bottle from the Slow Boat Tavern in the heart of Hilman City. 

I know a guy that knows a guy that organized a RAGBRAI-like little bike ride somewhere in the Chicagoland area and named his group pilderwhatever. 

Darwin's Conjecture

Darwin
was desperate
for proof
that animals wept.
It wasn’t enough
that houseflies hum
in the key of F
or that Dall sheep keep
lifelong their horns,
adding like trees
a ring each year.
Darwin wanted tears.

Being the only
species that weeps
was lonely,
thought Darwin,
dreaming
of manic animals.
No, it wasn’t enough
that honey bees
can count to four.
Darwin wanted more.

Or less.
Confess it—
the reason why
humans cry
is the mess
they fashion
in comparison to
the paradise
they can imagine.
Animals, if
they imagine,
must be less
distressed
by the severity
of the disparity.
Or maybe they have 
less disparity.
Or less mess.

As to why
Darwin hoped
that animals cry
we can only guess—
which is a form
of imagining,
and could lead
to the emergence
of tears. Instead 
let us hum
in the key of F
and count to four
or more.
Or less,
and know
the aurora borealis
as glimpsed through
the fretwork of 
a construction crane
is a metaphor
for our brain
and also an analogy
for why we cry,
all the while—
like Darwin—
humming against
the immensity.




—Jessica Goodfellow

I read this on the Sheena Easton train printed on the acid-free archival-quality paper of The Threepenny Review and it changed my day

on the spectrum

this phrase gets tossed around these days and I think it’s funny because I’m on the spectrum

we’re all on some spectrum because there’s a spectrum for everything

Melanin

Melatonin

Serotonin

Sarah Palin

there’s a spectrum for color into the absence of color

light or the absence of light

masculinity

facial hair brow ridge sagittal crest knuckle dragging

awkward socially to silky smooth any situationally

back slapping hand shaking small talking  

horseshitting

there’s a spectrum for everyfuckingthing

the super recognizers you’ve read about on one end of the facial-recognition spectrum with the face-blind people at the other end

there are people like Stevil that can’t tell you what day it is or make plans involving a calendar on one end of the perpetual calendar spectrum while on the other extreme there are people that can tell you what day of the week your birthday will fall on in 2027 as well as what day of the week you were born back back back then in that year that you were born

There are people that use a highlighter to cross things out and a paragraph later use it again to highlight things and they expect you to know what they mean if you know what I mean

There are people that input an exact time into the microwave to reheat their lunch in the breakroom and there are people that eat their food at room temperature with a smile

taken out of context

and put back in 

again

twice removed

this made its way to me via Matt Case

the grass is always greener in Portland over the septic tank