pedestrian saga

Relaxed evening stroll along quiet sidewalks. Gordon, a thick string of slobber dangling from his chin, intently sniffs at a bush. I stoop to marvel at the artistry of the spiders’ webs, and he tries to lick my face. “I’m not gonna kiss you! Gross!” just as we pass the honky-tonk. Sideways glance from the urban cowboys drinking and yukking it up on the patio. Duck behind a monster pickup and scurry away.

I sure seem to talk to my dogs an awful lot.

This is not a cry for help.

My new mantra– Just show up.

For a few weeks, I’ve been excitedly admiring Bike Summer from the creature comfort of my living room until suddenly the celebration is almost over. High time to get out there and ride (and earn myself the right to sport the gorgeous Bici Verano Luche Libre guy). Nothing like cycling for chow or cinema to motivate me, and today it was the good folks of Different Spokes and their promise of dim sum in Chinatown to bring me out. (more…)

For me, this is the epitome of Bike Summer– Next Saturday, which happens to be Day One of the Tour de France, Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure is playing Hollywood Forever, and the Bike Coalition is riding in for the show! You’d better believe I’ll be backpacking a picnic and taking in this *classic* bicycle movie under the stars (and with some stars six feet under)!

Vive le velo! Remember… the Alamo! See you there!

Gordon and Maddy were recently invited to a birthday party for the lovely lady Trinity– hats, cake, the whole shebang for this shindig. Well, I backed myself up against a deadline and couldn’t be bothered to fetch them for the fete, but the generous hostess Kim forgave my party poopiness and insisted on doggie-bagging some cake for me to take home. Pedestrian Saga Presents Let Them Eat Cake! (more…)

Mild-mannered whoever I am by day, by night I emerge from my lair to crawl the streets of Burbank’s equestrian district. Here the houses crouch behind perfectly groomed lawns, but where are all their people? Most certainly not out sidewalking with me, for the spiders are left free to weave every which way! As I move, I catch the webs and gather special spider strengths to me. They cling to my arms and my chinny chin chin, and they’re mine, all mine, mysterious neighbors! Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!

Oh, no! Will Spider Woman use her powers for ill deeds? Will she wander, confused and naive and lonely, until she finds redemption in Nick Fury and teams up with Wolverine? (Damn! Somebody neutralize her mutant pheromones fast!) Or will she mature into a benevolent goddess of powerful wisdom? (One can only hope.)

I can’t let go of the stuff and things cluttering my home, demanding my care, accumulated over time, infused with memories and emotions.

It pains me to let go of my jobs, and I’m forced to try only by the tyranny of deadlines. There’ll always be one more bad audio, timing decision, typo. And if I seem to be letting a file go with the deadline, truth is I’m still holding random lines, tunes, chatter even as I walk away.

I can’t let go of a deep, warm embrace.

I can’t let go of my Past People. We worked together, played together, ate together, slept together. We connected, and I can’t let you go. And sometimes I can’t let go of all the stranger-acquaintances either– the beautiful people passing on the sidewalk. Won’t I miss the crossing guard and his kind small talk when I move on? Can’t I be consoled that there’ll likely be another gentle crossing guard, store clerk, next-door neighbor in my future?

I can’t let go of my perceived failures of times past and the shame from them that wells up into my sinuses and chokes my optimism and creativity and confidence.

I struggle to say no to the 11:00 and 3:00 cravings for sweet, sweet ice cream, rich, cheesy pasta, chocolate! Sweet and bright– Oh, velvety chocolate!

I can’t say no to the magazines and newsletters I’ve invited into my mailbox, e-mailbox, Bloglines. I struggle to untick the Keep New boxes in my Bloglines. I can’t not purge my Bulk folder every time the spam is served. I can’t say no to the Check Mail button… over and over and over. Just who do I expect to be showering me with e-mail? After all…

I can’t let go of the e-mail, letters, blogs I compose in my brain. If they even make it to draft form, they languish there, and I struggle to release them, show them their purpose, give them their wings.

And before you get all Who Moved My Cheese? on my rat’s ass, please be assured that I posted this rant, huh, didn’t I? In all its shabby spontaneity, mixed metaphors, misspellings, poorly thought-out ideas… Here. I’ll just let it go, send it on its messy way! I’ll go sleep off the grumpiness now and tomorrow start to pick off the can’ts one at a time.