I just don't have anything to say about it. I'm sorry, but I don't.

Since I've been taking cycling more seriously than the rest of my life (which is to say, barely at all), I've had it in my head that there exists no greater bane to my joyrides than the mechanized mammoths that make up Seattle's automobile population. They stink, they take up my streets, they're largely indifferent, if not malevolent, with regards to cyclists, and, considering how I ride and how they drive, they should've killed me by now. However, recent events have forced me to reassess how and where I direct and divvy my abundant loathing.

In the past year of my cycling history, I have manned (yes, /man/ned) three significant wrecks, in which I've been forcefully removed from my bike before proceeding to eat harsh shit (asphalt and/or concrete). One of these wrecks, the nastiest, was an ugly combination of steep hill, brakeless, and broken toestrap (vegan has its serious disadvantages when it comes to cycling; settling on shit nylon toestraps is about as cool, and gives you the same helpless feeling, as hot actresses getting pregnant). The other two wrecks, however, were the direct result of stupid fucking pedestrians. Not regular pedestrians; stupid fucking ones.

Were I to delve into the specifics of these collisions (a.k.a. the clashing of me and moron) with keen, wide eyes, some unchecked factoid might slip through the myriad cracks of my editorially literary fingertips, offering some (I'm convinced it could only be) meager defense for said bipeds. But because this is my blog, and because I obviously want you all to think as highly of me and my biking abilities as you can muster on a settled stomach, I'll disclose through squinted, lazy eyes at a safe distance. It's amazing how carelessly and inattentively the average walker takes the streets. I'm not saying that one need heed every single light and restriction, but it only makes sense to be at least mildly aware of your surroundings, particularly when jaywalking. Just because no cars are coming doesn't mean your solid mass isn't going to seriously fuck the groove of a biker who had, until he was two feet from your deerintheheadlights-stupid face, thought you sensible enough to /not/ walk right in front of his twenty-an-hour cadence and do a side-to-side jig as if you're really going to fucking dodge him. You know? I mean, seriously. Barrel-rolls into the gutter are less than cool.

But that's that and this's this.

It donned on me that I haven't shown much of anything in the way of works-in-progress on this blog. Considering that the opportunity to do such a thing was very much a reason to start this whole thing in the first place, I figure it only makes sense that I make good. So what I have now really isn't much to look at, especially since I'm still just running off this delightful little Macbook iSight (I think that's what it's called, and can't be bothered to double-check), but following are a couple very-early-in-progress shots of my first toy sculpt. I'm about as green as it gets when it comes to sculpture, so just, you know, maybe squint on these as well.






I've got another painting done, too. I just need to borrow Razi's camera to shoot it.

I guess that's all I've got.

P.S.: This isn't the long post I mentioned I was working on last time. I'm not sure if I'll even finish that one. Kind of lost my gusto.

P.P.S.: I noticed Blogger isn't resizing the images properly, and what's worse is I can't be bothered to deal with it. You can see the full thing if you just click on 'em.