Tuesday (Two Acts & Epilogue)
ACT I
I ride my bicycle to work. This feels good. It is a clear and cool morning, and cycling to work does not require driving the car. Driving to work makes me feel unhappy, but cycling to work makes me feel good.
Driving to work requires the consumption of one third of a gallon of gasoline, at $3.15 a gallon. Cycling to work requires the consumption of one sixth of a bunch of bananas, at $1.80 a bunch. The math is favorable.
I believe that we should brush aside our wimpy, bleeding-heart environmental concerns and aggressively drill for bananas in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge.
The bicycle ride to work is largely uphill. My legs feel like pure muscle. I wear a fleece jacket, sweatpants, a shiny red bicycle helmet, clip-on sunglasses, and a backpack. I look like a champion. With my hand signals I point to the horizon like the optimistic frontiersmen in socialist propaganda posters.
Cycling to work takes forty minutes. I feel the wind on my face. I shower at the gym. I have changed neither size nor shape since yesterday, but I look like a classical god. My hair tousles majestically.
I feel like discussing wind resistance with people. I try to arrive at a satisfactory nickname for my bicycle. Cycling to work makes me feel fresh all morning. Cycling to work impresses the cute girl who works upstairs in copywriting.
I am a SUPERSTAR MACHINE.
I have been cycling to work for one day.
ACT II
Last thing before leaving the office: I have made a rare transcription error in the email newsletter I composed last week. The Germanic first name of a prominent and dead art theorist has been improperly Anglicized. My department manager notes this.
This happens very infrequently. This also happens in an email newsletter that the art marketing manager decides to send to the estate of aforementioned prominent and dead art theorist, as an example of recent marketing activity.
Do so many people need to hear about this? This happens very infrequently. Does this have to have happened to 50% of the email newsletters I have composed? The percentage will decline if I write more.
I do not think that this will impact my chance of being hired permanently. I think.
The bicycle ride home is largely downhill. My legs do not feel invincibly strong, but they do feel stiff. Will I feel better? Will a healthy dinner and dessert help?
I listen to some soothing music. Well, I find it soothing. Erreur du jour, va va va...
EPILOGUE (Neither Here Nor There)
Did you know that someone designed a Peanuts-themed Tarot card deck, which was praised by Peanuts fans and Tarot enthusiasts alike for its faithfulness to both worlds? This is apparently difficult to find online due to the Peanuts folks having taken it away; you can see most but not all of them via the Wayback Machine. Rarity makes it more interesting.
I ride my bicycle to work. This feels good. It is a clear and cool morning, and cycling to work does not require driving the car. Driving to work makes me feel unhappy, but cycling to work makes me feel good.
Driving to work requires the consumption of one third of a gallon of gasoline, at $3.15 a gallon. Cycling to work requires the consumption of one sixth of a bunch of bananas, at $1.80 a bunch. The math is favorable.
I believe that we should brush aside our wimpy, bleeding-heart environmental concerns and aggressively drill for bananas in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge.
The bicycle ride to work is largely uphill. My legs feel like pure muscle. I wear a fleece jacket, sweatpants, a shiny red bicycle helmet, clip-on sunglasses, and a backpack. I look like a champion. With my hand signals I point to the horizon like the optimistic frontiersmen in socialist propaganda posters.
Cycling to work takes forty minutes. I feel the wind on my face. I shower at the gym. I have changed neither size nor shape since yesterday, but I look like a classical god. My hair tousles majestically.
I feel like discussing wind resistance with people. I try to arrive at a satisfactory nickname for my bicycle. Cycling to work makes me feel fresh all morning. Cycling to work impresses the cute girl who works upstairs in copywriting.
I am a SUPERSTAR MACHINE.
I have been cycling to work for one day.
ACT II
Last thing before leaving the office: I have made a rare transcription error in the email newsletter I composed last week. The Germanic first name of a prominent and dead art theorist has been improperly Anglicized. My department manager notes this.
This happens very infrequently. This also happens in an email newsletter that the art marketing manager decides to send to the estate of aforementioned prominent and dead art theorist, as an example of recent marketing activity.
Do so many people need to hear about this? This happens very infrequently. Does this have to have happened to 50% of the email newsletters I have composed? The percentage will decline if I write more.
I do not think that this will impact my chance of being hired permanently. I think.
The bicycle ride home is largely downhill. My legs do not feel invincibly strong, but they do feel stiff. Will I feel better? Will a healthy dinner and dessert help?
I listen to some soothing music. Well, I find it soothing. Erreur du jour, va va va...
EPILOGUE (Neither Here Nor There)
Did you know that someone designed a Peanuts-themed Tarot card deck, which was praised by Peanuts fans and Tarot enthusiasts alike for its faithfulness to both worlds? This is apparently difficult to find online due to the Peanuts folks having taken it away; you can see most but not all of them via the Wayback Machine. Rarity makes it more interesting.
1 Comments:
I stand corrected then: I am in the Superstar Machine when I ride my bike.
This evening I was not in the Superstar Machine, but rather in the Cab, which I was taking because it was late, and too dark out to ride my bike. The driver laughs and goes, "What, are you too tired already?"
It's harder to feel like a Superstar Machine when other people are around. I mean, in the Superstar Machine. Whatever, I'm going to bed.
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