Little Things, Eyes.
I haven’t gone for a real bike ride in a few weeks, wish I had the time to do so.
I am still coughing like a cheap lawn-mower set to rabbit. I should be sleeping more, and drinking more OJ.
I am supposed to be taking Wednesdays off from work to give myself one other day besides Sunday to rest and ride and rehearse and relax. Last week I spent a few hours at Paul’s shop, and this coming Wednesday I’m covering for Steve at Pullins. I can’t wait for my next day off.
I’ve got a valentine, and I’m making something nice for them. Something that will perforate their heart.
I bought a ticket to see Modest Mouse when they come to town next week. I’ve loved them since high school, and I can’t even remember the last big act I’ve seen live. About $40 for a ticket doesn’t seem like too much considering how many of their albums I’ve stolen. I hope they play weird older songs, and I hope they are incredibly loud.
I might try to start a band with my neighbor, I really miss being in a band.
I’m going to go to bed now so that when I wake up I’m not tired, at least that’s the plan.
And last, tangentially, Heidi Swift reminds me that suffering should at least be interesting to read about.