Le Shit du Jour

ghostshippe

I managed to fall off my bike twice this past weekend.

Friday night + Saturday night.

Friday - misting. but misting good enough where my breaks didn't work and my tires skid on the pavement. i received a text message and tried to read it while biking. dan stopped at a red light in front of me. i didn't see it. i tred to stop but ran into him. my knee collided with the pavement, cell clutched in hand, scratched up. "DAN! WHAT THE FUCK!" "what?! there was a red light!" "WHAT THE FUCK!"
(it was crit mass night; i'd been drinking since about 7. but it could've happened anyway.)

Saturday - the evening started off relaxing, solitary on my bike ride thru new haven, chancely meeting up with mordecai. back home to drink a couple beers and play mario kart alone. dan and i met up with jeff n eric n drew for our nightly ride. tho our nightly ride turned into an elongated route to rudy's. on the way my front fender came loose again (it's connected to the fork by screws, but the screws keep falling out, so i had twist ties and floss holding them in place, which i have to replace weekly or so.) when the fender comes loose on the sides it rubs on the tire, makes a scream screech squeel noise as i ride. humorous, yet annoying. rudys, drank a few more beers, socialized, felt warm, comfortable. me + friends rode back together, dan and i dropped the three boys off, we keep riding home. my fender keeps making the noise. if i lightly put my foot on the fender to lift it off the wheel, the noise stops. i had been doing that when not pedaling. but this time i wasn't careful. it's not clear what happened - the spokes caught my foot, stopped my bike abruptly, i went over the handle bars, the palms of my hands pounding in the pavement, my foot all choked up, my already bruised knee burning, splitting. i vaguely remember groaning "FUCK" as i fell over the handlebars. i lay there in the road, my legs tangled in my bike, thinking 'this is what it feels like to break bones.' "DAN! i fell off my bike......" "get out of the road!" "i can't!" somehow i managed to get to the sidewalked, my bike thrown aside as i throw my shoes off saying "fuck fuck fuck!!" over and over again as i hold my numb and painful foot, inspect myself over and over again. "i'm so stupid i'm so stupid!" crying sniffling drunkenly on the sidewalk. after a few minutes dan gets my bike up. but it's not rolling right. the wheel rubs against the frame. "i don't care. i'll ride it home." a few more blocks. it hurts to pedal, like the breaks are on, too hard. i'm on the edge of wooster park, across the street from the apartment, i can barely suck up the pain and almost stop pedaling. but walking would be worse. i keep going and as i walk thru the door i tear off my shoes, fall on the couch "FUCK!!!" i think how i won't be able to work. it's my clutch foot, i can't drive, i can't bike, do i need the emergency room? who will drive me? i think about calling margot but she has her own family to worry about. i don't dare tell my family. 'alicia! jesus! were you wearing a helmut?' i realize it's not so bad, i can move my toes, put a little bit of weight on it. i ice it and fall asleep til 11:30 the next day. sunday the rain won't stop and i'm glad - i'm not missing out on anything. dan brings me an ace bandage. it's swollen and cut up and bruised all around. i read comics all day and sort thru things. it gets a little better. it's really not broken. maybe an arch sprain, maybe severe bruising.
i manage to drive to work and limp around without my boss noticing (he'd send me home = no money). i have more bruises, blue and purple spots on the bottom of my foot, on the top, on the sides, on my hip, on my knee, the palms of my hands.


(i think what if i was being careful, what if i wasn't drinking. but, i ride around so much something like this was bound to happen, if not something worse. at least it was half past midnight with no traffic to run me over, dan there to make me feel ok.)


(this was all written so overdramatic but i wanted to get it down. i'm still limping but it's not so bad as a broken foot, it will heal sooner or later. the swelling will eventually go down. temporary. estoy not soy. this is all temporary.)

I love the last fridays of every month. critical mass!

pretty soon as the weather gets cooler not as many people are going to show. But the past three that I've been to, there's been between 70 and 100 people.

Yesterday I rode up front and it was great to look back on the cloud of bicycles taking over the roads. And ringing our bells under the overpasses and at people on their porches. And seeing the little kids get excited when we throw the flower petals up in the air.

man on road: "what is this?...?"
me: "critical mass!"
man on road: "huh?...?"

Somewhere along the ride I became a superhero, "Cruiser Girl," with a friend as a sidekick sitting in my basket. We even have a theme song for our bike gang.

And the party on the roof was just what everyone needed.

The cloudy august sky was a perfect prelude to an autumn sky, distinct shades of grey clouds. The rooftop was right next to the half taken down coliseum, which may not seem too great, but it looked stunning; metal structure against the sky.

Twas a really great night. Beer, food, new friends, bikes... and I found COLD SPICEY NOODLES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

COLD SPICEY NOODLES which I have been looking for for approximately a year and a half now (ever since Stamos and I have stopped hanging out). I thought I would never find them again. Every chinese, japanese, thai, etc, restaurant I go to, I always look. But it's never on the menu. And this one place in New Haven I didn't know about, there they are. Drunken me orders them in a fury of bliss.

They were good, but not as good as the cold noodles in Watertown, MA.

So, my search will go on, until I can find just the right ones. I even have ingredients to make them, though I can't find the right kind of noodle.

I think my love of them comes from one night:

One night in Watertown MA there was a party. It was hot. Very hot. I was dehydrated and drinking drinking drinking. The next morning I awoke to a very bad hangover that lasted until 2pm. Puking, horrible headache, the works. Then, we ordered food. Cold noodles from the place across the street who knew us because we went there so often. So me and stamos drove around with Mickey in the backseat, eating our food, on a beautiful sunny day with the a/c on. And the cold noodles cured my hangover. It was like a miracle. And that is my story of the Cold noodles. The End.

I am moving to State Street next week. Above Christopher Martin's. I will miss Wooster Square and Little Italy and smelling the garlic bread at 5pm every day and all the cute dogs. But it will not be too far away. 5 minutes on a bike.

"surfing through outerspace" - me on Zombi last summer, me on Zombi this summer.

Also saw Wind Up Bird. Amazing. mostly cos he usually does electronic stuff from his imac or some other device. But he forgot a piece of equipment tonight. So he took out his violin, put a loud one note on infinity, and started to "sing." He'd sing along with the "note" and he would reach the same sound and the combination of the speakers and his voice would make this quivering shakey effect. I don't know how else to describe it. Then after about five minutes he added the violin. It was really meditative and unlike anything I've heard in a long time, or, rather, seen live. And the great thing was, everyone was so into it. sitting down, eyes closed. I felt really good after it. Thanks Wind-Up Bird. P.S. I like your beard.

- - - - - - - - - -- - - - -

A MAJOR UPDATE:

My brother is getting married December 22, THIS year (!). I'm a bridesmaid (first time). C'mon let's get some babies in this family! Some lil Van Campens running around! Hell yeah.
ok. I'm kidding (about the babes).

I'm taking a long break from "this."



Hasta.

Sharks??!

no sharks...

Definately no sharks? (why does it look like I've been weight lifting???)

Someone rescued this little kitten (and her two siblings). Casey and Alika took her in. This is her first night, before she got parasites and pooped and i had to take to her to the vet. We named her Luna.

Bamboo forest. Amazing. I wish I could've recorded the sounds - like a million most pleasant wind chimes.



Sunset at Little Beach

Sunset fire dance and drum circle at Little Beach

New Hampshire.

Took a drive to charge my cellphone, and I kept on driving. Overcast, drizzling. I love these winding back roads, new leaves unfolding.

See you all when I return (April 29th).

Updates galore, I assure.

ciao!

So, the only song I knew by her was "We're all gonna die," which Jens Lekman opened his set at Bar with back in October. It was awesome. She played the song last night and sure, it wasn't as "full-bodied" as Jens' take on it, more bare-boned and short. It was beautiful. All her songs were really beautiful. And when she abruptly ended her set mid song, upset, crying? ("I can't deal with this shit anymore"), threw her guitar in the case and ran out the back door, I kind of felt for her. A few people yelled that they loved the set and to keep playing, but she didn't care. I'm glad a girl ran after her. They came back inside but Scout was still pretty distraught. She was great though, and I hope she knows that. I bet if I could sing real good and play guitar, that would've happened to me too, all alone up there with 100 eyes on you, crappy bar people yelling shit.

From: nataliedee.com
Title: Bob2k