Ride to work

I didn't manage to forget the way to work over the holidays. Damn. I was hoping to at least get lost.

Motorcycles keep you sane

I keep all the pain and anger and worry on the inside where it chisels ulcers quietly behind a veneer so laid back people suspect its chemically induced.
Maybe its because my parents split up when I was nine and I was a fat kid with glasses and a bum knee. There are a million excuses I don't need to explain the days I feel like getting "Fuck The World" tattooed across my forehead.
Throwing a leg over an obnoxious motorcycle helps bury the anger. So does liquor. But that delays the inevitable though and it comes back compounded by lost sense of purpose and knowledge of time squandered no longer measured in days or months or semesters but years.
Sure the grass is always greener on the other side of "fuck this" and an exhaust note that drowns out responsibility. But life is no movie and you end up alone in the dark after riding off into the sunset.
So I am left riding a big circuit that leads me back to where I started but a little saner for the journey.

Merry Christmas to me:

Bye bye chain drive