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

metaphorically

fixing a flat

followed by

fixing it again

three more times

because it was 

halfassed 

the first time

a story here

there   is

an epic fable

but I’m not 

going there

into that 

actual fix a flat 

I’m proud or maybe

I’m embarrassed

by how many flats

I’ve actually fixed

my own

as well as

bike shop bikes

replacing 

swapping

scuffing 

sanding

vulcanizing

patching

triggering 

feelings of 

diminishing

PSI

squeezing

feeling feelings 

sincerely

for real

really

they say they

come in threes

are you kidding me?

it was all  

summed up 

succinctly 

by my 

Canadian girlfriend 

when she said

“I thought you worked on bikes”

as she drove me 

back to the train station 

I’ll tell you a story 

someday when 

you buy me beer(s)

but not at the  

74th Street Ale House

on a rainy Friday the 13th

spring forward

clockwise wise

if you can keep your 

head on a swivel

…if you can keep 

your head when 

all about you

are losing theirs

and blaming 

it on you…

Rudyard Kipling

walks into a bar

bartender says

“If- and only If-”

as if it’s

all about you

a piece of cake 

to have & to eat too

you want it 

that way

you want it

this way too

but it doesn’t 

work that way

it appears to

work this way

if and only if it’s 

all about you

Everyday after work I slowly grind up the hill back to the train station to begin part two of the roundtrip that is my epic daily  commute. Many of those days I’m waylaid for a pint at Big Time. Then I get back on my uphill line from 42nd to 43rd. I never take the Ave, sometimes I take Brooklyn, but I prefer to take the alley. It’s like a rite of passage, running the gamut, running the gauntlet, a garbage-strewn shitshow defining the U district. The seedy unsightly smelly underbelly behind the scenes with unappetizing dumpsters overflowing everywhere behind all the restaurants on the Ave and between a handful of pay-for-parking lots that will all be 15 story apartment buildings soon enough.  My line adapts, overcomes and changes depending on the delivery trucks or the posse of Uber Eats-Grub Hub bros in their cars waiting and clogging up the South end. 

The day before yesterday in the alley I had thoughts of pausing and leaning my bike on a dumpster for a photo depending on what just right light through yonder building breaks. Looking to sum up the U district in one digital snap shot.  But...

somewhere between

substantiation  &  successional 

down in the lower left 

corner of the page

this page here

not so subtly torn 

from a thesaurus

you’ll find 

the word    subtle

old school like

pasted onto a scrap

of cardboard and

magically transformed 

into a postcard 

hand-delivered

via electric ass bathtub

to my penpals

in the greenhouse  

in the LIFE SCIENCES 

consortium

circa box #351800 

where the mail 

sometimes sits & sits

for 7 to 10 days 

until a student worker 

picks it up 

and sorts it out

judging a journal 

by its cover

as if the cover

is all I need

can’t stomach the contents

leave it at that

this morning at the mothership I tossed this journal into the Math Department’s mail cubby. And that’s all happened before,  but today I began to consider my own ill-posed problems and the inverse proportional relationships in my day-to-day 

travelling salesman story problem paragraphs rolling out in real time Monday through Friday…    …it’s the same on the weekends as the rest of the days

the talk being talked

occasionally

coincides

with the walk

being walked

when it does

the syzygy

appeals to me

alignment & authenticity

Polar opposites don't push away, it's the same
on the weekends as the rest of the days
and I know, I should go, but I'll probably stay
and that's all you can do about some things

what we talk about 

when we talk about

the super worm blood moon

lunar eclipse 3/3 @3:33

appeals to me more than

what we talk about 

when we talk about

Michelob Ultra Zero

Early this morning as I was screening this shirt for Mr. Hella Corndog Classic himself, I was trying to recall what year it was when I busted out a batch of HC/DC shirts and that spiffy Hella Yellow Jersey for the race winner, Stacie Bain.

This was not the epic Monorail Kevin Cool Guy Hella cracked sternum Corndog Classic...

this was 2009 perhaps? Hella Hella 

April 26 did fall on Sunday that year...

Soon this throwback will be on its way to Rip City. 

the big picture

the little things

the attention to detail

the road to hell

the road less travelled

the long & winding road

the short cut

the hypotenuse

the   A   to   B

as the crow flies

over    yonder

down by the river

neither 

here nor there

everywhere

single use

throw away

plastic

a dictionary definition

of the word

spastic

toner cartridges

K-Cup® pods

dental picks

take a moment

to locate one

near you

keep in mind

it   may   be

behind you

a map within a map

within a map

within a map

a quality of life issue

ARE YOU HERE

YOU ARE HERE

HERE YOU ARE

wish you were beer

a potato salad sandwich

wrapped in two tortillas

served on a pile of pasta

carb-o-rama

arrows know

4cm/year

adds up