If you are needing motivation, you won't find it hear. My car is full of wheels, tools, trash; race relics. The kitchen counter, dirty dishes. The bed is unmade. I sit here typing in a damp kit, with a half drank bottle of coke and the foil that once wrapped a pepper and egg bread.
The bike path is mindless, maybe a dozen times you have to look for cross traffic. My legs just pedaled, cruise controlled right about 20.3 I tried to think, gave up on it, and felt lucky to be so brain activityless.
The most pressing thought came on the way back into town. Of eating a pepper and egg bread, in the bakery. Maybe sitting on some milk crates, floor dusted floor, heat from the ovens.
I stopped, nice chat, Marchiano's is such a nice place, and pocketed the bread. Rolled to main st. bagged a ciabatta and some crack rolls, and a coke. Zipped it all up inside the rain cape that I had stuffed in a pocket. (shouldn't those pockets on out kits have a special european name).
got home and just pealed it all off. chewed my bread, and came back from that; awful nice, sweet nothingness time. Like a boxer answering to a 10 count.
no music, I tried but nothing seem to play well with the theme. ah life, the real world. I'm here, again. dlowe.