Lately there has been a lot of ruckus in and around Chicago's north side. I feel there is a lot to write, but I'd like to avoid both list-making and Keroackian ramblings . . . so here goes an attempt at cohesive middle ground. Gosh. Writing is hard.

Last week, despite the amount of love I have thus far poured into my relationship with my bicycle, I got a flat tire. After buying a new inner tube, changing the tire, getting another flat, patching the original inner tube, changing the tire, and getting yet another flat, I'm taking a hiatus from biking. This hiatus is a bit of a shame because the weather lately has been fantastically autumnal annnndddd that's a bit of a lie. I think last week it rained every day. But ever since Sunday, anyway, when a run through Uptown yielded sundry fall smells and sights (i.e. aromas of ginger, cilantro, burning leaves and slanting-saturated-September-sunlight-lit scenes of man-sized kites and a million frolicking dogs) it's been beautiful and I wish I could trust my Schwinn to not crap out on me. But it's going to take a LOT to rebuild that trust.

This past weekend was the start of Ramadan, a fact about which I knew naught until dining at an offshoot of Usmania, a restaurant on Devon a couple miles from our apartment. The main restaurant features middle-eastern food, but our choice was its "Indo-Pak Chinese" counterpart across the street. Though the self-applied descriptor led us into hoping its offerings might be something of an edible Indian/Pakistani/Chinese trifecta, the menu in fact features only Chinese food (plus the apparently obligatory dates and lassi). Most if not all our fellow restaurant-goers were observing Ramadan and breaking their respective day-long fasts with the traditional Chinese Buffet o' Islam. It was delicious.

"so then the bee-bop was just pouring out of the speakers, and by bee-bop I mean mexican tunes -- you know he kind with the bouncing tuba baseline and boisterous brass accompaniment -- and sweet maoxie, once known as maoxie-moonpie-(keifer) danced and jived during her daily witching hour, twitching and swangin' to the hottest new moves -- for instance the wolverine, a newly created northside chicago step a la ms. spektor but no not muskovian -- straight from the waterways of the pleasant peninsula -- and one sunrise prior to all these shenanigans and tomfooleries a fantastic bout of golden versus vintage green helmets ended in a not-so-decisive but completely invigorating irish victory, a success that inspired little maoxie to dance the more, dance on off into the moonpie sunset moonlight -- she danced twenty new kanji into my japanese lesson book and she pranced a ticket for the goodman's very entertaining take on our lady of the underpass into my hands, and then she collapsed onto the futon -- a big, soft, jungian mop of feline exhaustion bearing the weight of illinois on her shoulders, the shoulders upon which future feline generations will be standing and calling those of giants" KeroWack

It's a shoutout from vacuous expanses of my cube. This fellow here (a railway industry model if you will) greets passers-by with different daily/weekly/monthly messages. He's been pretty quiet lately, for various reasons.

I'm currently trying to decide if it's better to run home or train home. SUCH CHOICES. Gosh. Due to some spinal duress of questionable origin I'm thinking the train may be a better choice, though running would be the better option if the end is combating bootyliciousness, as it so often is. Hmmm.

Where did the blogging muse go? Out the window, hand in hand with my soul. They'll be back, though -- don't worry.

Excitement from the weekend included

1) Finally seeing Snakes On a Plane and being completely satisfied. I'd heard it said that it overrated and overhyped (much like the 2006 Fightin' Irish, mayhap), but I disagree. It was fantastc.

2) Playing some enjoyable but very poor ultimate frisbee with my rag-tag team. It will be a fun fall, filled with plenty of playtime if not plenty of wins.

3) Watching some terrible football and during the game discovering that if one gets Krazy Glue ^TM on one's tongue/lips it a) feels weird, b) sticks and c) removes layers of skin. DON'T EVER TRY IT. Owch.

4) Enjoying the stylings of some delicious Blue Moon amongst seas of friendly collared-blue-buttoneown-clad Wrigleyvillians.

5) Tutoring all Sunday.

6) Discovering that our cat, Maoxie-Mistikus-Moonpie-Keifer, is as multifaceted as the entire collective universal subconscious. Not only does she manufacture diamonds (it's Science) in her special corner behind the TV, she also promulgates Jungian philosophy in her spare time, i.e. when she's not shredding entire roles of hygenic paper products and/or deconstructing the human myth for the rest of us. She is a very special kitty, and it's raining so I'm going inside.

While signing an invoice this morning one of my various and sundry coworkers asked me what date it was. Awkward. That incident and listening to this clip on the radio while moving my car away from the street sweepers were the two times I took pause today. For the record.

Also for the record: moving my car and cold raininess led to me taking the CTA for the first time in sixteen days. The red line is dirty and smells like urine. My bike fits only one of these descriptors; ergo, it's better.

ND v. PSU was great, orrrr at least the part I didn't sleep through and the events surrounding it were great. I had some quasi-interaction with one half of the Vnak tootins, spent some time chatting with Lizett and Animal's bratwurst, and saw a bazillion other folks who don't have blogs. The best parts of the day were as follows: 1) walking three miles carrying a twelve-pack of Killian's, 2) sweating an equal number of liquid ounces as in the 12-pack into my jersey-knit t-shirt, 3) bursing the same Killian's throughout ice boxes around campus, 4) being completley un-funny at inspection, 5) investing in pre-kickoff Swedish Fish and gumballs at LaFortune, 6) negotiating cab fares with hefty Penn State alums and, post-game, 7) helping Leah/Walter move a vanful of stuff from one place to another and 8) learning that ND's marching band of fifty-some years ago at one point formed the shape of a syringe on the football field. Seriously.

After a car ride of listning to the soundtrack of '03 - '04, once back in A-ville I opted to rent season 1 of Arrested Development and follow the storyline from start to finish . . . orr from start at this point, anyway. It's pretty ridiculously funny.

Below please enjoy a snapshot of Maoxie Moonpie at her finest. She may be a little greasy, scabby and badly-behaved (though only between twenty-two- and twenty-four-hundred hours each evening), but overall she. is. a. delight.

Today I spilled beverages on both my crotch and my iPod not once but TWICE in a two hour period -- first jasmine tea, then diet pepsi. Both crotch and iPod fared just fine, but I was forced to switch office chairs and do a couple laps around Ste. 2200 in order to allow breezes to pass through the weave of my biznass wear. I'm not afraid of occasional cubicular spillage, but twice? In one day? Following at least three months of spill-free behavior? Unacceptable. Where have my rudimentary motor skills gone?

I'm playing ultimate again this season with team Panic at the Disc-O. I don't really like Panic! At the Disco, but like dads, uncles and ojisan everywhere . . . and Philip . . . I appreciate a good pun. Now and again, anyway. I'm missing the season opener due to the allure of tailgating for ND v. PSU; clearly a choice had to be made and I feel it was the right one.

I am exhausted. Who knew that driving for nine straight hours would REALLY take a toll on one's system? I mean, it's just sitting, right? Apparently not. After the experience of blitzing from Curtis to Chicago via the mitten, I've developed a new respect for NASCAR drivers. No, that's a lie. I haven't.

Jake is home, albeit not physically whole. He brought with him a beautiful teenaged cat named Maoxie Moonpie. She is quite energetic and she has a tail like a squirrel's. I dare say I love her already, even though she just inadvertently clawed my legs with her huge rear feets.

I feel sick -- I think that's the last of it. Oh, and Jess is in town and she went to an African Arts Festival today. Very exciting. Off to tend to my intestines.