worse things happen at sea.
worse things have happened to me.

I'll be turning sometime soon. I took the date off of a public place because I figured that the only way most people know when I turn is because of an electronic notification that passes for a well-kept relationship.

Jacob Cummings and I woke up yesterday and decided to go to Seattle. It was one of the best decisions we have and could have made. We listened to the most recent edition of this American life. I won't go into detail, but what I'll say is that, we fulfilled the prophecy.

While not wholeheartedly agreeing with the theory explained, we inevitably became a part of it, and ignore it to our own benefit.

phew. let me tell you.





keep riding.
keep wishing that you could make that split-second decision.

I couldn't be more vague, yet when any of you call, I'll most likely drop what I'm doing to afford the 15 minutes.

So, we're on our 5th day of the bike trip.
Luke, Kat and Jason left us (Brandon, Victoria, and myself) to
head inland towards Klamath falls. We're averaging 50 or 60 miles per day and have seen incredible views along the best coast.
We've met a few friends along the road, Michael
from Washington, and sunny and Nathan from Phoenix. PSAT was by far the worst of
our days, our knees and legs are pretty sore, and the climbs aren't
getting any easier. We stayed just south of the California border last
night, in "trees of mystery," and today we clocked in just under 80
miles, with a couple campsite confusions and my first flat tire of the ride. Our first ( rcommended by another rider) campsite choice was incredibly dreary and slightly frightening. We were acosted by three 7. Year olds who were wielding knives, claiming we had stolen their fort. We found an rv park in eureka, ca, and are very happy
forthe night.

That's all for
now, pictures at flickr, username weallwait.

Much love, cole

Damn it.

Just once I'd like to be uninspired by something you do.
Just once I'd like to want to lack the drive that you seem to have towards something.
Albeit unattainable, I'd like to live a different life.
Is it unachievable, though? I need to spend on experience, and realize that the material possessions I've come to love so much only exist for a short while. I can't keep coming to conclusions that I think are ultimate without trying something completely different.
I don't care what I think resonates, because I know there is more that booms. There is more that will ruin me than I currently subject myself to. I want to be ruined in a completely different way than I've considered possible before. Now that I've got no class that comes in ones twos threes.

You fucking confront it finally, after years of doing exactly what you want, you do some things you never thought you would. and it supports you. It moves you, and it takes you flawlessly to that volta. It takes you, not matter how the time. It takes you because you forced yourself. I've been living far too naturally, when naturally is to do things on a whim, not to let them come to you. whims should be uncomfortable.

I love you, man, and I've always respected what you do. For some reason, that even means your insecurities, that even means your lack of self-confidence. That even means my lack of self-confidence. That even means my stubbornness. That even means me trying to fit in. That even means you trying to fit in. That even means that both our paths cross inevitably because of how diametrically opposed we once were.

I knew this would come. I've been processing my battle. I've been existentially avoiding that which I know must happen.

to MG.

I seem to work on all the wrong days.
I work when I should be relaxing, and when I need work most to motivate me, it's not around.


it's hard to be the better man when you forget you're trying.



forget it, you'll never be able to crunch yourself into the box of success.
that magical box that apparently gives people knowledge
and the right to hold things over you.
I'm not noticing those things anymore.

I'm all for waking up early now
sleeping in is for the person I want to be.
duality?

well, this isn't a "long time coming" or anything, but:

I'm going on a bike tour.
I'll be riding down the west coast of the United States, and more specifically, Oregon and california.
It will be approximately 1200 miles, and there will be people joining me for various legs of the journey.

Things will be updated here, should you care to 'follow.'

For the first leg:
Luke Bonham
Kat Sandor
Victoria Loehlein
Brandon Ensz

second leg:
Victoria
Brandon

third leg:
Chris Bondus


In other news:

for the past couple days I've been concerned with the ways that I've been spending my time.
I have this stigma that makes me want to be constantly achieving something. Today I spent quite a bit of time doing nothing. And the same goes for yesterday. (They told me to never start a sentence with 'and'.) I tried to take a freewheel from a vintage phil wood 48h hub, and the rusted cleats out of a pair of Sidi Bullets. I ate four bowls of cereal yesterday, and I can't even remember what I REALLY did.

I'm moving soon, and I know things will go well, I just hope I don't turn out lonelier than I already am. Especially when our count goes down to three.

Thanks to all those who watch Dawson's creek with me, tear down bunk beds at 1 in the morning, eat ice cream, make quesadillas with very hot peppers, go on photo adventures and bike rides, and who help me with the things that I am struggling with.



i want to write the perfect song
and play it just for you
while you are tangled up in sleep.
i need you more than ill ever know
until i stop breathing
my lungs will take you for granted.

lately:

3.30.10

Incredibly destined
was the way I felt. I'm still years younger than
rational thought, but i'm past the mark of
what I've here labeled as 'childish.'
I've been pining for a certain thing

for a certain word I don't yet know
for the handle to the plug of the tub
you've been soaking in all this time

nobody's destined for powders and plasticities
caustic facial asininewe weren't born to breathe.
I can't use names. Not for fear of thir letters
in sequence absorbed by greedy eyes, but
because I don't want to blame YOU just yet.



OLD:
2.26
well, i might mention, simply as your eyes look up at clouds
that pertinence is lost amongst my routined shroud.
now you agree, we both pay dues to gold.
not physical, a piece that shines when old.

I'm already

Tired. This body has already had enough. I can't be stuck in between without thinking of what might happen had I made a couple different decisions. I can't help but think how certain conversations epically divide beings made for mutual affection. Surrender, if you don't you'll never think to know control.

Because, in the end, as the song goes, control is something out of my control. And that's the only thing I can identify with. That's what I'm singing at seven something in the morning, tired, useless, as I just checked my marks in school. Control is something out of my control. A cop-out?

I now type in paragraph form.
laziness?
I hope not.
I hope my spaces affect the way you sleep at night.
Because that's the only reason I keep my thumb next to the space bar. So that in some world that I imagine, you'll notice them and count them on a separate page.