remuemenage

I gave my car to my sister Virginia - she had need of it more than I, what with her Brooklyn-based production company and plans to start a soul orchestra (she's a bassist)

I'm feeling lighter & uplifted

the ten miles on my bike each morning - to class and back - has me riding a bubble of elation for the rest of the day that tastes like endorphins

reminds me of my bike messenger days in Chicago. I would wake before dawn - and in the cool morning chill bike down the broad NorthSouth boulevard that connected my leafy university enclave with the bigger city through blighted neighborhoods of liquor stores and rotting architecture

radio in for the first drop of the day - and like being shot out of a gun, hit by an instantaneaous wave of adrenalin that sets me spi nning and carries me dashing and weaving through the day in a dreamstate

I'd wake from a week of such days unable to stand up straight, feeling as though I'd been hit by a truck. I could not keep enough calories onboard to do the job consistently. I would hole up in my apartment and eat pints of Ben & Jerries ice cream until I could get back on my bike

bearded photo from my bike messenger ID. I had just gotten back from taking a year off of university to go crab fishing in Alaska. I didn't make much money in the bike messenger business - I didn't need to, I was rich