Good morning kitties…
Welcome to a new post from my blog. I’ve actually got plenty to say lately, but strangely no desire to say it. I could attribute that apathy to my current experiment in sleep deprivation, my freakish array of subjects that I’m studying lately, or the tumultuous upsets in my personal life during the past couple of months.
Without a doubt, this has got to be the most thrilling and frightening ride of my puny existence thus far!
So, here’s what’s been happening… (feign mild interest and I just might keep typing)
My marriage of 8+ years is ending. It’s ok, dear readers. I don’t need a hug over it. We’re friends, amicable, and mutual in our decision to let the sham go. It wanted to be a good marriage, and it had it’s moments, to be sure, but as young lovers often take years to understand: a slew of commons interests combined with raging hormones, do not a lasting marital bond make.
We’re handling the legalities ourselves. It should be fairly painless. We’re going to look into the possibility of speeding up the 120 day waiting period until finalisation due to my next exciting event:
I’m on a plane bound for Heathrow in the late fall. I’m stoked in ways you can’t fathom unless you’ve gone on such an adventure! I have wanted to visit the UK all of my cognisant life. As a child, I had a near obsession for the isles. I knew a bizarre amount of details relating to Medieval events, attire and traditions. I created highly detailed drawings on various armour styles and constructed a 3’x3′ castle from sugar-cubes… I think I have a cobblestone fetish… I’ve been attracted to the land and it’s rich offerings culturally and spiritually since I was a aware of it’s existence. Now I’m going. I am at a point in my life where opportunity knocks in this manner but once- I’m clamping down tightly and not letting this ride pass me by. Wish me luck!
And lastly in the series of recent events: I’m recovering from a nasty little motorcycle crash. I should truly call it an accident, but in my training class the instructor made it clear that ‘accident’ is more akin to an act of god rather than a ‘preventable event:’ i.e. crash. I assure you, this was borderline ‘act of god.’ I was certainly not in control of my own destiny for those brief seconds! Fortunately, I had the ‘crash’ during the Motorcycle Safety class… convenient that. So, why the fuck was I there? Well kids, I’ve got a Vespa scooter which I had ridden plenty last summer with a temporary license. I was on the waiting list for the MS class and needed the certification of completion to turn into the DMV office. Doing so would allow me to bypass the traditional ‘fly or die’ course test there. I wanted to learn to operate a basic motorcycle anyway, so the class seemed like an excellent idea…
At the time, I was doing well. I was complimented for my balance ability, my forward vision, my peripheral attention. What sealed my doom was the additional complexity of using all four extremities to operate the basic forward motion of the vehicle. I gave up playing drum-set for the same lack of confidence… I was always ‘first chair’ percussion and a mighty fine snare player, however, ask all four limbs to skillfully articulate independent movements and I’m fucked.
That’s precisely what occurred on the motorcycle. You see, the Vespa is a new one and an automatic transmission. This leaves little room for error on my part and quite frankly is a low stress environment. The motorcycle was a drum-set all over again. I was doing quite well until a slight increase in speed threw all that I had learned thus far straight out the window. I had a complete evacuation of all that I had learned about controlling the bike. Clutch this, friction zone that, downshifting and brakes, left, right, throttle… I panicked. I remember two options: dump the bike or hit the guard-rail that was rapidly pulling into focus. I dumped the bike. I used my left knee to mostly break my acceleration as I tumbled onto the rough pavement. I had been a skateboarder for many years in my not so distant youth and knew how to fall instinctively. My helmeted head never made contact, but that was made up for by all the soft bits of my body.
Long narrative short: I skinned out close to two inches diameter worth of flesh to the knee cap of my left leg, impressively scabbed up numerous places on my body, managed to bruise the areas both with scab-action and without, and lost a good pair of Doc Marten shoelaces to the paramedics scissors. Oh- and I failed the class. (Like we didn’t see that coming…)
I’m doing pretty well. I took my stitches out last Saturday. (I have stitch scissors.) I am limping much less. My leftover Vicodin is now reserved for my recreational desires and I have begun modified yoga again. Not bad for having experienced the ‘crash’ on June 30th…
That’s all for now… should be plenty really. I’ll pop in for a post again soon. I’m regaining the desire to write to my blog, so I will. Suffer children…
Adoringly yours in smooches,