go ride a bike, punk

Thats the last time I ever post something after drinking a 6-pack. Jesus H. Christ, most of the crap my fat fingers pound out is incomprehensible enough; I really don't know what I was on about in that last one.

So the last past year I've been mostly asleep. Not really awake, kind of dreaming but kind of not, almost like that state of being one experiences on a Saturday morning where you have to decide whether to get up, or sleep for another hour. I suppose there are reasons for this; there are reasons for most everything, but in this case I think they are entirely uninteresting. The most important piece of the riddle is the part which is now clear: mountain biking is fun again. I say 'again' with qualification: it was never not fun, but when you are in that fugue state I mentioned previously nothing is really very outstanding. But now I remember why I work and look forward to weekends: riding. That solemn activity has regained the belt of 'most important activity' via submission over apathy in the second round of a 5 round title bout. Long live the champion.