shuckin and huckin back to normal.

Shit dude. These kids are chucking bombs from lemonade stands.

Nope. That wouldn't surprise me.

Burger King shuckin' Big Macs, Shmoopy on my doorstep, or dragons on mopeds delivering Chinese food wouldn't even cause me to raise an eyebrow.

Well, Shmoopy might.

I think this is what life is like if you were perpetually stuck in between time zones. And it's not even as complicated and/or glorious as living on an island skipping like a goddamn record. There isn't Evangeline Lily running around, even though I just spent two weeks telling nosey Euros that yeah sure, she's my girlfriend. Oh la la, they'd reply. Moving on though, It's really just living within this specter of what if's, what will be, and where the hell am I. Not quite stretching to non-existence but not quite to the point of rejoining the softball team. It's somewhere in between the Celtics losing to the Magic and becoming the one dude on the East Coast routing for the Nuggets. Maybe a few blocks away from the dividing line between dirty laundry & clean laundry, two days of cereal & grocery shopping, and SoCal stares & dead city stares.

It's life in between a well manicured rat tail on a Mexican and a curly greasy rat tail on a Mainer.

That is life right now, on whatever day it is and at whatever time it is. In my mind it's maybe close to Friday and I don't know dude, it's mid morning? Woke up at 10 this morning only to be told by the dj on the radio that you're not a man if you sleep past 11. Close call on that one. The last thing I need to learn right now is that I'm not a man. No. The last thing I need to learn is that the past 3 weeks were some bizarre dream and you've really just been shuckin' away in the Illadelph the whole time. Could do without that, please.

But no, back in Philly, confused and trying to get my bearings. Third load of laundry finishing up, grocery shopping done, and I'm hoping that if I bike the shit outta the day, it might finally clear my head to an acceptable level. I'm having problems connecting the dots, making sense of the past week. Mexico seems like years ago and Shmoopy, while still making the rounds in my thoughts, might very well be a gal I knew years ago. I really have no idea what's going on right now and I'm too tired to be concerned. The booby traps in the backyard will only concern me at night and the bills seemed to have all been paid yesterday, so at least that part of my life is looking okay. I can't seem to play the new Green Day album loud enough and I can't seem to run my hands through my hair enough times to come out refreshed. Maybe later this week or next, the ship will be righted and wind will take up the sails, pushing this currently grounded schooner forward into movement again. How did I go from moving so much to barely being able to move from my room to the kitchen? Is it because I don't have a cheap BMX bike to help me along?

Shit I don't know.

Five things I do know (in no particular order):
- learning German years ago would have proved worth while.
- Green Day is writing songs complex in their simplicity and I love them for it.
- I can't wait to play drums tomorrow.
- PB & J is going to be awesome.
- The Blazer needs to be washed.

That's really about it. But those five things, and maybe a few other thoughts that don't come out in complete sentences, will have to be enough for me to hang on to for the next few days. By Thursday, I'm determined to be on the move again- even if it's just up to North Jersey to set up for the US Open of something. I don't care. I get to sledgehammer some shit and that's going to help. The bike ride is going to help and having grocerieswill help. Go Nuggets- that'll help and this Green Day album will help. I'm digging up dude, slowly and surely. Too tired for kicking & screaming and too sluggish for fits of profanities and love letters.

For now, everything is aggressively standing by until Ryno is ready. I hope you're cool with that. I'm not.

But I'm doing an okay job pretending I am.

That'll have to do until the train gets rolling again.

Smoke on, ninjas.

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