…on Baden Powell

"you left your soda water"

"i know", the bastard retorts with two full hands with four bags of groceries. "sometimes I wish I had three hands".

and then I amble across the street with the weeks repast in my sore arms.

I turn and the man's friend is carrying my seltzer across the street, "I figure that I'll be your third hand today"

"bless you man", I replied.

now the bastard doesn't speak in such evangelical platitudes but sometimes it's better than just saying thank you.

but hey guy, thanks for the good turn. the man who's words I try to live by sometimes lives on in you.

do a good turn daily jerk

be prepared jerk

don't be a jerk. jerk

baden powell never said jerk but I do. because most people are jerks. just not the guy who just helped me out.

—the bastard

…sweet

holy hannah.

this time last year, the bastard was foolish enough to lock keys in his car while it was still running which made sleeping nigh impossible.

fortunately, this incident did not happen.

and all was right with the world.

however, it doesn't make him any less tired than he was at this time last year.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

—the bastard

dear children of mine

I woke up in the middle of posting about something else on the train and a song came on that made me think of you.

and made me feel fortunate inside for having you in my life.

thank you

love,

dad

—the bastard

...on breathing

so,

with lead in his lungs,

the bastard heads east for a doctor visit in the q borough.





a long nights work to get some drugs for my asthma.

i'm really rethinking this whole long distance relationship with my generl practitioner.

the businessman in me asks where the ROI is in these trips out east by mass transit to get a refill everytime they won't spot me a month of scrip becasuse I haven't been back in three months.

coincidentally the bastard gets three months worth.

so there's no overlap.

I think I need a second opinion.

—the bastard

...fume

"I'm a lone wolf ligger.

but i ain't no glitter boy".

—lemmy

it's gorgeous out.

cold and fucking gorgeous out.

last night's plan went all pear shaped and the bastard has to make the sojourn to queens today.

there are worse fates.

at least the bastard's got his health.

lungs feel like lead.

I'll get medicated next week. it'll be fine.

then my ladyfriend will be able to sleep at night.

which means the bastard ca. sleep at night.

so untl then, it's me and the F train and the awe inspiring guitar lead of accept's "bound to fail".

why do I love that song so much?

—the bastard

wither the fhills?

now,

one of my most bittersweet decisions I made this year was to leave my beloved thorough borough for the rock.

short walk to work. but it's a short walk through jerks.

anyway, I got the call last week that the chairman has left the q borough under cover of darkness.

greener pastures.

this leaves the mofo on the metro. my family on the eastern frontier.

so I ponder,

wither the fhills?

wither the most thorough of the boroughs?

the bastard says no.

I still keep one foot in queens because like MacArthur, I will return.

every week to get the car.

and who knows, maybe my ladyfriend may get sick of the rock and want to leave.

dumber shit has happened to me this year alone.

—the bastard

this just in...

...and I say this as a parent.

hell is other people's kids.

stop kicking me you little fucker!!!

and can you quiet down that beastful baby you have writhing on you?

—the bastard

...on the train

funny thing about the train.

hell

funny thing about mass transit

is

when you really need to get there,

sometimes, it's there for you

at least it was tonight.

the bastard feels discouraged because of the bike but, not as discouraged if the rest of the trip home was.

I remember once when iwas trying to take a nap on grandpa's boat, he repeated to me over and over again,

"rocked in the cradle of the deep. rocked in the cradle of the deep"

the bastard misses him at the damndest times

rocked in the cradle of the rails.

clack.

clack.

clack.

that's something at least.

—the bastard

oh the bastard had such plans tonight

alternate side of the street parking is something the bastard has been able to avoid for a long time now.

that is until now.

you see, he's moved across the river an manhattan is a different game altogether.

on monday I brought Ivan across and was able to hook up parking until wednesday.

tonight was make or break night and manhattan wasn't going to budge.

so i went back to queens to pick the car up on the weekend.

thought about getting the bike.

tried it.

it didn't happen.

now the bastard is exhausted from 20 minutes of kick start.

oh the bastard had such plans tonight. shit.

—the bastard

sometimes everything comes up bastard

the bastard doesn't like the rain much.

or at all if it's gonna piss out for too many days.

so I took the bus to the train.

but it's like this

I get these text messages from the MTA when delays are happening on my line. and i received an alert from them.

thought all this getting up early crap was going to be all for naught.

but now the train is rolling express for a little while and the bastard feels like everything is coming up his for a sec.

it's cold comfort knowing I have a department christmas thing tonight and I'll be spending it at my desk. oh well. go to hell.

-the bastard

hoo boy, it ain't lookin so good

there's been a lot of inconvenient weather lately.

and by inconvenient, the bastard mean humid.

and by inconvient, the bastard also means that he has to go to the bike garage on odd days because it pissed out all weekend and it's going to piss out today and it's going to do so again this weekend. so instead, i couldn't get a ride to the ass end of brooklyn. couldn't get a cab (honestly, waiting an hour for a car service that's down the block from me), so it was the bus for me. and while it didn't take forever it sure did feel like it. and people sure do like to talk on the bus. but alls well that ends well.

first off, the bastard has to give big ups to the peeps in williamsburg. when i got off the L train (yes, there was a train involved) and didn't have my bearings, passers by were all good with the directions. it was mighty nice of them. a whole lot of traveling to get from one side of metropolitan avenue to the other. 20 minutes according to google maps takes over an hour by mass transit.

takes 30 minutes going back. whatcha want? tales of my tearing ass down a chewed up strectch of new york street after i hadn't been on a bike in over a year? no kids. all the bastard did was show the two guys fixing their lights in front of the garage how fucking awful i am at riding one of these things after a year.

long story short, i made it home. one piece. easy peezy. it's surprising how easily one remembers how to ride a motorcycle (just like riding a bike :-P). and metro isn't as chewed up as it looks. but then again, i'm sure the folks i was sharinf the road with didn't appreciate me doing 35 all the way back to queens. oh well. what doesn't kill you..........

looks like it's gonna rain. oh. wait, it is raining. thunder goes boom.

—the bastard

PS: and just so you know, the bastard is frikking trucked from the whole experience. adrenaline rush+zipping between two buses really takes it out of you.

man, this is WHISKEY!

so i'm running late today.

mostly because i was delayed by my updating iphone.

what can the bastard say? sometimes we are beholden to our technology.

anyway, i decide that since it's gone up 10 degrees that the bus was the better option.

and folks mill on and i suddenly smell whiskey.

so the bastard starts looking around for some hung over old guy. someone who looks like he's been on a bender but, no luck.

but the smell won't go away and i realize it's the young couple next to me.

ok

i'm only going to say this once. there is NO REASON for young people to smell like whiskey in the morning. it's just fucked up. what are you? the two most fashionably dressed hobos in new york? what the hell? it's just wrong. fucking dogs'll start playing poker and pigs'll fly! it'll be anarchy and whiskey smelling kids!

—the bastard

...on the bus

..fashion tips moves above ground

you know,

you'll find all sorts of characters on the bus.

and monday evening was no slouch.

we saw this guy who looked like pete wentz if he was a modern primative. asllthough one wonders how one can be a modern primative but use modern technology. it's kind of like a bullshit amish movement. i don't know someone explain it to me. anyway, he sort of looked like a slightly gayer pete wentz (from fallout boy, keep up, will ya) and he drew my attention because he was singing out loud.

and thus drew everyone else's attention. this remind the bastard of this guy the chairman saw who was riding no hands down metropolitan avenue shouting, "THIS IS MY LIFE", while he was doing his trash on sunday. i kind of hope that it's the same guy. because it's how i pictured him.

—the bastard