we had to make an 11th hour change in our daycare lineup because the girl's nanny has some family business to intend to and it couldn't be done today because it's Diwali.
the bastard has been scrambling to get it together.
there's a crossroads a coming potentially.
but this week's one thing has been the lack of hate I had for parking in manhattan this week.
my doorman told me in his almost unintelligible accent, that if I parked in the Tuesday spot, it would be good for the week.
this held true for election day,
and the car was good until today but today is Diwali, so I didn't have to move.
and the bastard sleeps soundly knowing that his car will remain ticketless when we go house hunting tomorrow.
however, i've been following this website for little over a week, since i signed up for the brammo electric motorcycle company's mailing list like umpety ump years ago. or maybe it was 6 months ago, i forget.
anyway, premise is this, two guys from brammo want to show the country their bike and they feel the best way to do this is to give one to president barry.
personally, i think the best way to make people buy an underpowered albeit beautifully designed bike more practical for the american people is to,
i dunno
make it less than 12 grand to ride.
now to be fair, it's actually more in the neighborhood of 11 grand but for a few hundred bucks more, you can have a comfy seat for it.
which brings the bastard to his point. there is a problem in this country with changing the hearts and minds of the people on the alternative fuels front.
it's expensive.
sure, the bastard wanted to buy a toyota prius, it gets huge mileage but it costs in the neighborhood of 23,000 at it's cheapest. so i bought a cheap asses hatchback that gets half the mileage for almost 10 grand less.
take the notion of eating healthy. you can clip coupons, shop for canned goods, buy meat that's 75% fat because it's on sale, buy cereal that's on sale, and you can die in 20 years from the enormous salt lick that is lodged in your carotid artery after the fact. yes, youc can cut meat out of your diet but, you have to get the protein somewhere. seitan costs money. but, i'm getting off message here.
if you wanna eat healthy, it costs more. if you want to drive an alternative fuel vehicle, it's gonna cost you.
this item is while on the surface, a fantastic idea (who the hell doesn't want to plug your bike into an outlet instead of going to a gas station?) but, it's a luxury item until there are enough people who can afford to buy a 12 thousand dollar electric motorcycle.
i certainly hope that these two guys from brammo actually succeed in getting their bike to barry just because a higher profile might prompt more to buy and then the bastard can look into buying, say, a 5 thousand dollar elctric motorcycle one day.
but today's the day they may be able to pass it off to him. maybe it'll work out. mebbe not
the bastard knows that he's drivig them back to the thorough borough tonight.
no matter. the mofo logged a lot of driving time to make tonight possible and we three head off into the night, the bastard hoping like hell that he can find a spot later.
it was a good night for drinking.
for family nonsense.
and for talk about childbirth.
you see the accountant regaled me with tales of childbirth best left unsaid. a mad science drop nonetheless.
over the river and east, we speak of other crap which I cannot recall but at 2am one wonders why one's stomach grumbles.
"do taco bells in new York stay open late?" , the accountant inquires.
"I think so", i reply
"there is one on utopia open late. I used to go there during my days at the torch", the mofo concludes.
so it's a mad dash for the border.
meximelts in the brain for the bastard.
the idea of acid reflex never felt so good.
a junkie approached us while we dined. said he needed money for a cab to the subway.
i tell him that we're tapped knowing full well that the 7 train was a 20 minute walk and a walk might cure his junk sickness. he simply moved on to the next car.
the bastard thought about the show he was watching.
Charlie and ewan were gonna go the long way around Africa.
and ewan broke his ankle 9 weeks before the trip.
healed up.
and right on time, they left for parts unknown.
and the bastard thought, "hey, you fat old sack of crap, you need to get back on the horse."
I though about a photo I found of my son I found on the way through the photo library on top of pichaco peak mugging triumphantly at his climb or just showing off for his dad.
and i thought about the little girl who is growing in my ladyfriend's belly right next to me right now and I thought, "you gotta be just as fulla life for her as you were for the boy."
and I thought about a joke that scoop and i tell each other all the time.
my hate makes me great.
it don't.
what makes me great is my desire to do it again.
my desire to get out there and hit the pavement.
tonight, the bastard wants to dream of open roads and the roar of the machine.
when I got to his place on Tuesday, he goes, "how about we drive straight on to st louis so we can spend a day there. I wanna see the arch."
"cool"
flash forward: we're in a red robin in mechanicsburg, pa and one of selling bullets' writer /photographers calls up to ask about something he's shooting for me.
the bastard tells him that I'm out on walkabout and I tell him where.
so the baseplayer kindly opens up his home to us. and it was really a damn lifesaver for us because I don't think I could sleep this well in my car at ALL.
but we saw the busweiser plant.
the st louis arch.
and some frikkin great bluegrass and jazz in places a guidebook couldn't tell you where to go.
thanks bassplayer, you kept us from running this shit right off the road.
