Like a moth to the lame, a lemming to the fire, and a virgin to a cliff, Macro Monday has returned! [insert feigned applause and mumbled groans here] This time, it’s a two-parter.
Posts Tagged → journal-ish
The Trees Win
Say what you want about the necessity, value, and quality of the—went on a bit too long—Soiled Chamois mini-shit show entitled The Quarantine Chronicles, it motivated me to write. Now, not so much.
Marco & Meatless
Like getting rim-burning runs after a hot wing and Natty Light binge, Macro Monday is back! To be honest, I don’t know what that means, or why I felt the need to type it, but what’s done is done1.
Surprised Legs
I don’t always ride two days in a row, but when I do, I make sure it’s the only two days I ride all week.
Sighs, Rubs, & Pulls
I don’t know, man [rubs gelatinous, stubbled cheeks, then eyes, followed by a pull of unkempt hair]. I haven’t been on my bike since Friday, and I don’t know whether I’m happy, moderately upset, almost sad, or not giving a shit about it.
I’ll Take The Ups
The past week was filled with ups and downs. To be honest, it was mostly filled with downs, but I’m choosing not to devote any more brainpower than is absolutely necessary to those bits and think about my Friday morning ride.
Slack & Gimping
The week thus far has been nothing but adulting and slack. And if you know me, you know that me and adulting go together like oil and water. There is a school of thought among many that I mentally plateaued in about 7th grade, possibly 6th, but that is a discussion for another post.
Moist Sunday Slack
With two days of riding, it was time to utilize my spare time for something else on Sunday. That something else started with me sitting on the front porch drinking coffee while watching in piss down rain sideways. It was just the calm and relaxing mental enema I needed. Had I known what was happening simultaneously, I may have forgone that blissful mind-enema and just started shoving beer and/or legalized in the state of Michigan herbal supplements down my throat.
Dirt and Dirt
Everything old is new again. Well, not that old, and not that new, but on Friday morning, I found myself riding with a friend (or anyone) for the first time in years.
Sort of
This week has been a rollercoaster shit show of good days, bad days, a swell 49th birthday, COVID angst, life angst, adulting, a crap walk in the woods that yielded not one photo I liked, a somewhat OK ride south of town, and a few hours at the shop.