I rode past a garbage heap the other day, some girl had left a bunch of stuff behind when she moved house. Off the top I pulled half a bottle of Dr. Bronner's and CD book. The book had a bunch of burns and pretty clean copies of Refused's The Shape of Punk to Come and the first Neutral Milk Hotel album. The Dr. Bronner's I'm saving for the floor and such. Damned contagion heuristic.

My laptop is still down, which is causing me no amount of massive and really sad consternation. And I have so many photos floating about that I could share with the world, including the best shot of espressio I've ever had. There is something to be said for the all-manual Arduino. I don't have pictures of the second greatest bike I've ever seen, a sight so great that the owner came out to see what I was doing, or of the weird teenager who I found photographing MY bike. Or the girl who came through one day and told me I was "the sweetest, most adorable" thing she'd seen in a while. Which was very flattering, I guess, inasmuch as I like being called "adorable." Or how I really want a new man-purse. Or I could wait until I had something to say that wasn't bragging or whining.