High Points

I saw the Oscar Meyer Weinermobile on Sunday, and the rest of this week is looking like embracing the glow.

Some Shade

I’d rather relax in the shade than throw it.

Take care, everyone. You are fighting unknowable battles, but I’m rooting for you.

Just one

You don’t need more motorcycles! You’ve already got one! No more.

Unless you’re totally changing paradigms, like getting an adv bike when you already have a cruiser or street bike. But that’s like a different thing.

But that’s it! Two motorcycles and no more!

Unless you get a Grom, because they’re super fun and so small they’re barely even bikes.

Three motorcycles. Don’t buy another.

Another internal combustion engine bike. Electric bikes are fun too, and they’re good for the environment, and you want to help the environment, don’t you? Also, the silence is super weird. All you hear is chain and tire noise. So four motorcycles. Then you stop!

Buying modern motorcycles. Respect your heritage. Get a Vincent or something if you can.

And a project bike.

And another bike to be a parts bike for the project bike.

And then you stop!

Hunted and bagged

I’ve begun reading and watching editorial comedy. It’s editors gussying up their responses to clients. Obviously, it’s played for laughs, but there’s truth in there.

Oh, dear God, I am these people. I am both ends of the joke. I am the audience laughing at the silly author, and I am the author who doesn’t understand why ‘Her snozzberries tasted like snozzberries’ isn’t an applicable line for a spicy romance.


Just heard Genesis, Jimmy Buffett, and Nirvana, in succession, on the classic rock station.

Those are all the same genre of music now.

God, I’m f’kin old.

Chop Chop Goes the Editing

My problem is narrative oversharing. My fiction goes way too long into things that don’t need discussion.

I’d really like to see the original, terrible cut of Star Wars just to understand classic examples of what should be cut.