(stink) eye of the storm
I go through these sweltering afternoons where I'm just praying it would rain. Sit by my porch window with a tea sandwich or a can of coffee and watch life outside scramble for cover before getting washed away in the sudden downpour. But then there are afternoons like yesterday where I'm just praying that the same rain would just hold the fuck off--ten more minutes, just enough time for me to get home, that's it. Clearly, I was asking for too much, as the heavens belched forth watery apocalypse the moment I finished my selfish prayer. And then just to remind me of my insignificant place in this universe, the chain slipped off my shitty bike and caught itself in the rear hub, leaving me at the mercy of the torrents while I made repairs. Quite obviously, I arrived home far behind the sneering clouds--soaked to the marrow, and irritated beyond recognition of even my own face.
But the day's regular cycle--ie; 'life,' went on, even as the world swam around us. Shortly thereafter, the skies cleared momentarily, giving the sun its stage from which to set. I snapped the above picture.
Then the downpour resumed.
There's a new Langster in town. It's his first fixed-gear too. He's giddy--like a schoolgirl on the first day of summer vacation. I remember being just the same way. It hasn't been the best of years, but I still get giddy--still get the rush, racing streetlights every night of the week. Never would have expected to get so much out of two wheels and a single-speed drivetrain, but I have.
Hope he does too.
start the honeymoon
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