[WOW! The unedited version of this post was shockingly awful. It was written at the library and published by accident. Eek!]

I really like my new bike, though initially I was having some disheartening knee/bum discomfort. I made a number of small adjustments, the easiest and most effective being replacement of its original squishy seat with my old Bianchi's hard yet ergonomic one. Now each of its riders (mostly me but occasional curious outsiders) feels as if his/her haunches are being cradled by the hands of angels, and that is a nice feeling.

Also, I killed my computer. Let's hope all its brains are salvageable. [Nope, they're not. Sad.]

Well, it's official. Joining an all-coloured-Windy-City-lines blitz halfway through isn't quite as satisfying as partaking in the Five Borough original. That said, it certainly holds its own unique merit. Highlights included sliding and swinging at 35th and Ashland, imbibing at the near west side's velvety Cobra Lounge, walking miles and miles in search of edibles after midnight on the brown line, and gleaning loads of information from one of the pink line's own 7-Eleven franchisees . . .

. . . which deserves its own bullet point. See, back in Summer 2006 7-Eleven acquired the White Hen convenience store chain, and ever since Chicago area 7-Elevens have been showing signs of WH influence, while at least one WH now flies 7-Eleven colors. While I love 7E, I also love WH and am torn by its eventual annexation. This particular franchisee, however, allayed my fears somewhat, claiming that full conversion won't happen until after the next decade (phew) and eventual once-WH-now-7E stores will "keep everything good about White Hen, except for the soup which is, unfortunately, not profitable." You heard it here first.

The other day I was accused of "always being so hard core about everything," which brought a little redness to my cheeks. Me? Please. The milieu [audio bonus for dad!] was a very crowded Millennium Park, filled with quasi-Zeits and plenty (a shocking number, I found) of twenty-somethings with nice bone structure and organic munchables. I was accoutered with (1) bottle of wine, (1) corkscrew, (1) container of vitamin-enriched diet cola, (4) plastic cups and (1) knit afghan. I don't think any of it was organic -- not even the afghan. Having biked from Ravenswood with these items strapped to my person was apparently enough to constitute extremism in the eyes of my fellows. I, however, enjoyed the transit completely, WWDTM was hilarious, and U.S. Attorney Patrick Fitzgerald was very sweet and funny, though not as good looking as the panel had us believing.

So I went from Schwinn to Italian and back again, and it feels so right.

After yesterday's blitz back to Chicago I was met with crazzyyy torrential rains on the Lakeshore Drive side of the loop. It was out of control.

For the next couple posts if they happen, I will be introducing everybody to some folks. Friends. Pals. Profiled as per writing.com's amended template:

Name: Scissors
Overview: Formerly a resident of Tennessee’s storied Moccasin Bend Hospital for the Criminally Insane, Scissors has since escaped and currently roams the greater Chattanooga area. Unrehabilitated, he seeks out his victims while: frothing vermilion at the mouth, clawing his way through the underbrush at water’s edge of Blythe’s Ferry, holding his breath for minutes -- even tens of minutes -- while breast-stroking just below the surface of the Tennessee River, dodging meteors. Scissors’s intended victims include: the author of this blog, the Zeitgeist, perhaps others.
Born: Late 1960’s, early 1970’s perhaps
Physical Description: Wild eyes, wild hair, bloody jaws, clothed in a straightjacket in various stages of disrobement
Accoutred With: Scissors in one clenched fist -- either right or left is okay, light scuba gear or perhaps a diving mask for time spent underwater
Urgent Goals: Seeking aforementioned victims
Likely to React: With nominal stealth but extreme violence
Inner Conflict: Little to none
Romantic Intentions: Might be interested in a stripper named Barb. It’s neither here nor there, really.
Favorite Time of Day: Midnight and/or the wee hours, particularly when there’s a thunderstorm

Dwight was raised in the Baha'i faith and his family is or was at one time was affiliated with the Baha'i Temple in Wilmette, which is kind of an interesting fact. Not for that reason in any way, but instead to meditate upon images of blooming loti and nascent Phoenixes, I took a bumpy bike ride up there last Sunday. It was quite nice, and not at all apocalyptic (i guess sepia can distort what looks lovely in color) as perhaps suggested below.

Some excerpts from emails over the past week.

2007.06.24: "I'm off to the doc now for (possibly) some stitches to treat a raging toe wound. I may be rendered out of commission for interaction with heavy crowds."

2007.06.25: "The toe is a-ok, i guess. Mostly I sat around in the emergency room (apparently no clinics are open on Sundays) for three hours and soaked it in iodine and waited as a number of qualified women deliberated whether or not to remove a portion of my toenail. Eventually they just bandaged me up and sent me on my way with a prescription for antibiotics lest I get an infection. I realllyyy hope it wasn't expensive. How pricey can two band-aids, some iodine and a blood pressure test be, you know? I sure don't."

2007.06.26: "All's well in the city. It's oppressively hot and humid so I went to Bikram this morning thinking its heat would make the outdoor grossness seem less oppressive, and it did. Hooray! The Bikram was also a test of my toe; I figured if it was fractured such an injury would become apparent in Bikram. It didn't. So that's good, I guess. Also the speed of sound is 340.29 meters/sec, which = 1116.4 feet/sec, so it takes approx 5 seconds for sound (the sound o' thunder, say) to travel a mile."

07.06.27: "Instead of seeing Kicking and Screaming yesterday, I harnessed the power of healing and ended up playing frisbee for a million hours. I got really sweaty (likkke Bikram sweaty) and stopped at the White Hen on the way home for some foodstuffs. The guy behind the counter was all, 'woah, I see you're sweating a lot' and I was all, 'it's true,' and then we had a big conversation about sweating and other glandular issues and the weather as I paid for my bananas and frozen yogurt."

2007.06.28: "This is what I need to get my wheels in order." And "I will arrive in the downtown area in approx 35 minutes. get ready."