eating shit.

i ate shit yesterday. not literally. i was riding my "gently used" hot pink specialized bike, and didn't notice a pothole on east beach street, right by watsonville high. or maybe i did notice it and just wanted to see if i could somehow just glide over it. either way, my wheel got stuck and i went flying off my bike, saved by my hands. luckily, i only ended up with a small cut on my left hand. the security guard, richard, told cecilia and my roommate all about it. when i saw aimee later on that night, she said she heard about what happened to me. news travels fast.

aimee made us omurice (pronounced "oh-mu-rah-sue") and we watched a j-drama called lunch queen. i liked the japanese girl who works in the grocery store and says random, ditzy things. tomuka, i think, is her name. she's a tall drink of water, like another girl i know.

the sub who took over mr. rhodes' position talked to me today about an apartment she used to live in, located in aptos. apparently, the owner was a misogynist and knew about mold and sewage living in the walls. she developed a lump on her breast, fungus in her lungs, along with many other health problems. i feel bad for her. she told me she was an artist. she likes to paint. she wore an iridescent scarf. "i made this," she said, pointing to it. "see?"

1 comment:

ultrafknbd said...

Nothing like a bad spill on the bike. At times, the adrenaline of embarrassment placates any serious injury, at least for a few moments. Then it's ibuprofen time.

Once, I was "clipped-in" on my bike (during my "serious" riding years) at a high school baseball game. As I dismounted, I couldn't clip out in time. Down I went. I have a small scar from the purple bruise and scab that lived there once before. I made it myself, see?