Weekend warrior

Well this post has nothing to do with the term you might recognize from the movie Cocaine Cowboys. In an ongoing effort to get my head as far away from work as possible, I set out on my bike multiple times this weekend.

Ray gave me a new seat so I really wanted to get out and test it. As I told him on Friday, it's like a Cadillac for my butt. It's awesome. My old seat had become completely defunct after a spill I took a while back. I went end-over and somehow the seat took the most damage. Ever since, the seat has effectively been on about a 30° slope to the left. For one reason or another, the single bolt that held the seat in place needed a metric sized allen wrench.

Any excuse will do for a trip to Home Depot. The smell of lumber is attractive to me in the winter. Yep. I also enjoy going while maintaining the appearance of someone who has never actually set foot in a Home Depot. Day laborers covered in paint, foremen on a deadline and heart-of-Texas employees see me in boat shoes, shorts and a busted old GAP shirt with half the collar folded in and a pair of headphones stuck in my head. I got the allen wrenches and replaced the seat.

I scrambled over to work (on my day off) to meet with my 401k advisor. He's spot on and I was happy to meet him.

After the meeting, I took off into the city. At times, I wish I was in a bigger city simply because there is only so much that can be seen. I'm... trying to remember exactly where I went at the moment. I did a dumb thing and went into town on a Friday afternoon... just when everyone was scooting to get out of town. Whatever. I'm on a bike. Cars must obey. It's a beautiful thing.

My face-mounted mirror is growing on me. I've finally figured out how to make it work without being too awkward. For the record, I shall always look awkward on a bicycle. Off the record, I am awesome regardless the amount of face-mounted hardware I might be sporting.

I scrambled all over town, I guess. I took nearly the same route today, albeit a bit extended. I think I just went around South and Central Austin yesterday. Yes indeed. That's what I did. I went to the bank and to Zilker. And then I paused at the top of the hill at the Long Center and looked out over Town Lake and all the dogs doing what they do best.

I repeated the process today whilst jamming Little People, Emancipator, Fischerspooner and Brother Ali. Brother Ali is the perpetual Man.

Today, I started out by chugging up to the UT Campus and going to Wheatsville Co-Op for some Frito Pie (note the capitalization). For one reason or another, there was a massive Woodchuck/Boy Scout/Father-Son Excursion event on the UT campus and there were brown shirts all over the place. It was interesting.

Given the sheer, frightening amount of children, I decided to eat away from my usual grubbing spot. I require a certain degree of (general) peace and quiet for the proper levels of grubbing to take place. I hopped back on the machine and made my way down to Austin Proper. I ended up going to Whole Foods and eating on the roof.

I burned down 6th street comfortably with my mirror and completely ran 110% into the last intersection. Just at the last moment, I tore into the huge parking lot adjacent to Whole Foods and enjoyed the chorus to one happy-go-lucky song and a break in the clouds at the same time. I was content to do figure-eights with a stupid grin on my face while everyone was actively congesting my roadway by the store. Who in the world would be in a hurry on a Saturday? Whoever they were, I was happy to let them stew in their own anxious juices while I did an urban ballet against the condos' rooftops.

There were many people at the store. I've found it's not nearly practical to expect anything else at any given time. If the store is open, it's going to be packed. And that's fine. It's people-watching season right now through this time next year. Folks can't figure out if it's hot or cold out. The ladies are doing their best to prolong the winter season by wearing boots and matching earmuffs in 55° weather. I parked and locked the bike and took my frito pie up to the rooftop to get my digestion on. Jalapeños. Woot.

Come to think about it (because I think about these things), those cub scouts weren't nearly old enough to watch me eat frito pie. Once I start eating that stuff, it's a no-holds-barred digestive event. It couldn't possibly be rated anything less than NC17 by the stiffs at the MPAA. Let's put it this way. If Tarantino directed a short covering the life of a small Wheatsville frito pie after being purchased by me, there would (very accurately) be an enormous body count, multiple explosions and just general mayhem. I would be played by Jason Statham and the frito pie would be played by this guy.

I finally got a chance to watch some of the Olympics. Since Time Warner's accounts database failed continually, I was not able to register my ISP (which is required) to watch them live on NBC.com. I did, however, manage to find some pretty good recordings online. Ms. Vonn is infinitely awesome and the biathlon was... interesting at best.

I came home and talked to the landlord. Mr. Man has not paid rent in several weeks and I've been instructed to find a new roommate. I've already met with 3 and have a match. Now it's just a matter of time until tons-o-fun decides to move his butt... and his xylophones, Nirvana posters and broken keyboards.

I played guitar for a while today and... I don't really even want to put it down. Now... I had previously affirmed the fact that I will never be a guy who treats his guitar like his significant other. I'm a hopeless romantic and am ever entertaining the possibility that my songs will sound better when played with a woman in stride. But I recently found myself comparing the scent of a passing lady to that of my guitar case. With a highly critical inflection, I thought, "Wow. My guitar case smells way better than her." Nonexistent love life, beware. The 86 is on the up and up.

Speaking of odor, I'm going to break for a second and go on a mental tangent. Follow if you dare. An olfactory excursion's prepared.

So the sense of smell has evidently been proven to be the most primary of our senses as it relates to memory. I am attempting to consider easy ways (easier than standing on my head for extended periods of time) to take my mind away from what's in the foreground.

I rode by an industrial construction site downtown yesterday and was met with a great memory of being in bigger cities. The odor of raw lumber and cement blowing through the hollow floors took me back to city streets in Houston, DC and New York. A few hours later, I found myself considering whether or not it's feasible to plan a day or a weekend to include any number of these odoriferous experiences. Biologically speaking, it should create the emotional levels required to suit a proper break in the pace of Life. After considering this concept thoroughly, I have come to the distinct conclusion that it's not currently, not in any way possible, to be a bigger tool than I currently am. I do, however, expect women to smell like my guitar case. So anything is entirely possible.

And with that, I jam the rest of the night away with Joss Stone. Sweet, merciful Jesus.

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