Me: I can’t stop giggling. I blame sleep deprivation.

What, exactly, is a beardo? Based on the rest of that paragraph, it must be something epic. Now there’s a bar set and everything for this story.

Beardist: You know, people with unkempt beards tend to be weirdos. Present company included.

Me: Haha. That doesn’t sound like “didn’t just step out of ambercrombie weirdo” or “doesn’t plan on buying a condo weirdo”. I sense some beardmosity.

Beardist:True, I don’t mind a little facial hair, but I don’t like beards. A beard is a physical barrier between a man and the world. If a guy is interested in being close to a woman, he doesn’t have a beard.

Me: “A beard is a physical barrier between a man and the world.”

That is an epically awesome quote.

“If a guy is interested in being close to a woman, he doesn’t have a beard.”

My mind whirls at the possibilities. Mostly, I’m thinking about the beard that used to beat you as a child, or the non-intimate beard that would never let you get close and went to chop wood instead, or maybe the time that brawny wasn’t the quicker picker upper.

Beardist: UNSUBSCRIBE.

update:

beardist has blocked any future correspondence with you.

Also, those that were wondering what else was said… nothing.

Sometimes colorized output just stabs you in the face when it’s full of errors. Maybe that time is just when it’s 3:30am. Usually when I work all night I come back after dinner, the garage is locked, so have my bike up in the office and ride it around when I’m waiting. As I walk to hit the relay on the damn hippie energy saving light controller relay, again, I wonder where my bike is. When did I get here? Wait, what day is it? When did I sleep last? Oh, right, this afternoon. I got here this morning, well, Monday morning. I think. Right.

But you can make decisions too
And you can have this heart to break

Chapter three opens with commentary about how much (a lot) music “expressed please for return of feeling” and “contained mournful descriptions of the pain of unreturned love”. Some day I’ll write a book about this shit. Oh wait, I did. It’s just a really, really rough draft. Mother thinks she’s read this before and leaves me a note expressing that what touches you is meaningful.

I was thinking earlier about communication and wrote to a stranger:

I’ve been thinking about communication a lot lately. You ever wonder if it’s getting cliche? I mean, I feel like I don’t meet many people who are against communication so all I can think of is social stereotypes. Granted, despite interacting with a relatively disparate set of social groups, my control group is somewhat tainted because I consider the majority of them good people. Hmm. I don’t know, made me think about that.

Through a twist I got thinking about confidence, how I have it, and how I didn’t always. Why I do, and when I feel like I don’t. Vulnerability… Everybody hurts sometimes. How to remember that, when you’ve been hurt? Should you? We flinch for our own safety.

because if you made a book about what really happened
it’d be a really upsetting book

it’s funny how much cozier, and consequently happier I feel when I put up my hood. small things.

somewhere I recently said that I may be better at being willing to communicate and not so great at actually communicating. Upon the umpteenth thought, I’m still pretty confident in my ability to communicate. When I look back to that time, and recall how terrible I felt about my ability to communicate, I remember coming to terms with it and finally realizing that I was playing against a stacked hand because they had a veil of being open and sensitive over concrete self defense mechanisms. That other time was similar.

On that scale, I’m wholly in the other direction. Which isn’t really necessarily better, blaming yourself first. It’s still a challenge. I’m willing to believe that I leave less hearts broken and hurt along the way, and more willing to work through that which is life since my self image isn’t at stake.

well fuck, none of that really worked as hoped. Under the circumstances, I should have known better. It’s a boon to realize what I previously thought was pure amiability had a desire for reciprocity at it’s core. It’s much more understandable now.

Hope, being the problem, and also the fulcrum upon which the heart is balanced. The benefit of having numerous social groups is that I can stand to lose one or two. Once again, that which is malignant has to be carefully resected from memory. It’s unfortunate, but when I consider the list of what is meaningful and actually present in my life, as opposed to fancy, it is clear it is probably time to make that step anyhow.

Randomly caught Paper Heart today with Mom. It was really great and fit the day perfectly. Must see for members of the big hearts with feelings club.

I’ve only got some mid construction photos of the couch bike that Divide and I build for the DBD. Divide should have some photos from the DB party eventually.

I’m unhappy about sleeping alone lately, which is probably mostly loneliness when I’m sitting still too long. As much as I’ve identified and internalized more emotions, that doesn’t change how I feel, only how I act because of it. I still feel discarded and unwanted and I have to be okay with that. My mind tempts to “keep doing what needs to be done”, but I walk down the stairs and see the old photo of my father, an intentional reminder to not accept life as a treadmill. And I remember that my feelings are natural and perfectly okay. I remind myself that my feelings are good, and that they and my efforts are probably under-appreciated.

I have great fear of the relationship between distance and limerance. Buy me a drink and I’ll share that with you.

Turn the corner,
the air smells like molten steel.
The single drunk,
amongst a gaggle of couples.
Thanks for getting the ice-pack,
that was sweet of you.
You’re a welder, she says,
looking at my hands.

“I don’t think I’d put a ‘wallingford bikes!’ sticker on my bike.”

oops.

watching the freight train roll into town through the window of the 9lb… dx, with ass half hanging out, rubs his head against my tallbike pretending to be a cat… sharing drinks with ken, while talking about the day and relationships.

And you may ask yourself, well, how did I get here?

So many significant accomplishments lately, including personal growth, that I’m proud of. The cost? What used to seem absolute and important, isn’t. But there is much more out there.

So, what the fuck is your deal, sir?

Also, early review for Love and Limerance: changed my life.

Perhaps there comes a point when you’ve transcended busy and are instead “regularly engaged”? I’ve thought a bit about my sleep patterns and when I’ve been sleeping less it makes not much difference. The balance of thought and sleep don’t sway much. Even sharing a bed with someone doesn’t seem to add a whole lot to the deepness of sleep. So I think everything is normal, sleepwise.

I just sent an email to folks in the Portland office (I had to double check that I posted that we were acquired) about coming down there for a visit. Then I remembered there is a bike to be built before the downhill, and of course the downhill. Plus a couple people I’ve said “we should hang out this week” to. Christ. What was I thinking?

Awesome day taking the canoe up river (Duwamish/Green) to Tukwila with Meg. A little swimming, the hilarious regular taco bell stop, and a lot of great, meaningful conversation. Again, I’m so fucking appreciative of the friends that take the time to share their life with me.

Yesterday was moving day, as I helped a couple friends move. After dark I ended up with friends at a benefit in an underground industrial space in the ID. There was a tree hanging from the ceiling with headphones hanging from it that appeared should have been playing something. At one point a giant stuff something was violently torn apart by the crowd. Bikes were all about, but overall the scene felt quite mixed. I only saw a handful of people I recognized and even then they were from disparate scenes. Music was good. Which reminds me that I saw another rad show at Chop Suey, “Quintron & Miss Pussycat” last week. Life seems to be changing again socially, and I happy for it.

Speaking of change, holy fuck it’s nice to think, grow, and change. Best part of so much deep conversations with people lately? I’m super at terms and confident about so much.