happenings

[ontology]

I saw the last of my comrades off early this morning... have been sort of putting off thinking about it or feeling it at all, but now that Sarah and Jonathan are off to the Wilds of Maine... well, you know. At least Hannah's only visiting, and therefore coming back this week (and Victoria, I forgot to tell them to give you a gigantic hug from me), but -- oh, last summer was so perfect, at least in hindsight, when I had a whole group of friends and we had our inside jokes and rituals and community and made this little town feel more alive. I hadn't had anything like that since I was nine. So yesterday evening the Angelmobile and I set out for one last visit with the remainders of the old gang, which was meant to be hanging out with Sarah and Hannah and Jonathan and turned into also going to the Meadows for frozen yogurt and singing our theme song ("Rest in Peace" from "Once More, With Feeling" ...yes, really; we used to sing it everywhere, especially on amusement park rides and such things) and being ridiculous and gabbing and wearing hats and watching Torchwood and eventually I just stayed the night, which was nice, because then I could see the van off in the morning and then bicycle home -- before anyone thereabouts woke up properly, even.

Speaking of the Demon Bicycle, I spent a lot of Saturday afternoon helping Jonathan clean out his flat apartment, and, as I generally do, rode over on my bicycle. The Angelmobile, also as usual, had not really been working properly; the handlebars need to be tightened constantly, and most particularly the breaks were completely non-functional. Oh, shush, you. Mostly I bicycle to work in a straight line, few turns or reasons to have to stop, so it's actually the little residental streets that pose a danger anyway. Of course then I was on one, and at the top of a hill, and I was clearly not smart enough to get off and walk the Demon Machine down, instead thinking I could glide down with one foot on the road for friction. Note to all: do not do this, it is stupid. So there I went, careening down the hill, swerving left and right in the hopes that I could wear down my momentum to the point where the foot on the road approach would actually work (it's stopped me decently going to and from work), and because I was stubborn, I remained in denial that the only thing for it was crashing in the most comfortable way possible. Ergo, instead of steering for the nice soft grass, I finally lost the last of my control in the church parking lot across from Jonathan's apartment, landing in a tangle of limbs and hair and bicycle on the concrete. Fictional profanities may have been uttered. Jonathan said that he knew I'd arrived when, from the window, he heard a woman call out, "Are you all right?"

Injuries sustained: decoration on one shoe: needs to be re-attached; screwdriver in bicycle basket: lost; palm: badly scraped; back of right calf: now boasts a great purple and green bruise larger than my fist. Also, the bicycle chain jammed, which I didn't figure out until after I left Jonathan's -- and I'd walked the bicycle a block or so away on account of hill, too. Fortunately Jonathan turned up at my house later in the evening and not only un-jammed the chain (I tried, but couldn't, and he actually, uh, had pliers) but fixed the front brake and some other stuff. Hurrah! Then again, having a mostly-working bicycle is taking some readjustments. It feels all wrong.

And now for more Battlestar Galactica. I'm nearly finished with the first season: have only got the two-parter finale, actually. Eee!

Sigh. This post contains a lot of Information and not very much about what anything means; all flat and laid out, like a road map in contrast to the road itself, carving through mountains and convenience stores and little histories.