A Blown Mind

Eventually, if you’re the right kind of crazy person – which I am and have been and pray to the Iranian Redneck’s Unholy Goat that I will continue being – the  top of the your noggin won’t be able to hold in the brownish, reddish matter inside your skull and whammo, that shit will splatter upward into the bathroom ceiling, all the bad shit, all the misery, all the regrets, all the angers, all the little tiny aggravations that make life a tedious drag, an agonizing slog involving being nice to jackasses who think their shit doesn’t stink or worse, who think the shit they’re saying has any value in the first place, and what you’ll have left in your head is a pleasant bike ride in the sunshine at 4:20 in the afternoon, the hour when joy itself spreads across the countryside like a patient etherized upon T. S. Eliot’s motherfucking table, I guess.  So yeah, my mind’s blown.  I hope yours is, too, though I’m sure it hasn’t been blown by me.  I mean to say I hope you’re not sweating the little shit or paying attention to the little-minded people of the world.

Me, I’m rehabilitated.  This week in Denver marks the annual convention of the Associated Writing Programs.  I used to be pissed about it and become worked into total outrage about it:  how thousands of people taking creative classes and teaching creative classes come together to celebrate the idea that if they snuffle at each other’s crotches in enough interesting ways they can publish each other’s books of poetry and not get paid one dime for it, et cetera.  See?  I can’t keep going.  I have to stop myself from the rest of the rant because 1) nobody gives a fuck about AWP except people in AWP and 2) who gives a damn if a bunch of creative writing professors and graduate students want to pay a lot of money to get together for four days and schmooze?  Will this hurt me if they do?  Hell fucking no!  So they can have my blessing this year.  I’m sure they have been waiting eagerly for it.  I’m sure lots of people will get laid, too.  Maybe they’ll send postcards.

Meantime, there are far more important events looming on the horizon.  The great and peaceful and wonderful hippie holiday of 4/20 is rapidly approaching and there’s no sense taking off work on 4/20 and heading out for your annual 4/20 ride without being attired in the proper uniform.  Here’s a link to the finest source on the internets for 4/20 cycling kit.  I wear it.  And this is why my mind is blown in such a positive way.  420Wear

Happy riding, people.  I’m cutting out of work early to go on a long one.