|Capital Letters, Biking, London
||[Jul. 7th, 2005|10:52 am]
|||||"Higher Love" - ?||]|
The girl I spoke to the other day was not on the bus. I hope she passed her exams. I love riding my bike now. I'm getting more enjoyment out of it now than the whole time I've had it (since 2000). I like how impressed people look when I lift it with one hand and slam it into place on the rack in front of the bus. I love riding.
Riding my bike, singing my Lowenbrau song, avoiding the construction -- it was a great morning to ride. I was thinking about the estimated 10 folks who died in London. What happened to them. I mean, does that energy that was built up in the Underground -- people just on their way to work, thinking of donuts or bagels or the cute secretary who wears the skirts that are too short -- what happens to that? Whether you believe that ghosts exist, that forward momentum has to go somewhere, no? What about places like Isreal where things like that happen so often they almost expect things like this yet put that expectation out their minds to continue daily life?
I was thinking about the President falling, yet again, on his bicycle in Scotland. What if he had fallen forward and been impaled on a branch? *shudder* It would be Cheney time -- for however long his heart lasts. Luckily he only crashed into an unsuspecting Scotland constible.
I've put my capital letters back in. You can thank my psychotic co-worker. I figure if she's going to spend so much time being a dolt, checking her E-mail (even when orders are coming in), well, I can take time enough when I post to put in the Capital Letters where they belong. Screw her. As the rap song says: "If you don't give a damn, I don't give a fuck". But even with that thought, I can't imagine how it would be worth it to blow up such hapless creatures as this cow. And myself. What would it be except a blood sacrifice of a helpless animal?