ladyparts

Vortex

YOU GUYS!
My self-adhesive sweat saved my life!

I was just rid­ing down Santa Mon­ica Blvd. on my way to work as usual, passed the 405 but her before Bundy, and stopped at a light. (The right lane varies in width through­out this stretch, some­times the shoul­der is real nice and big or you get lucky with some parked cars in the lane–minimizing the song and dance of try­ing to make your­self as obvi­ous as pos­si­ble to the other cars. This area had a smaller shoulder.)

So I was keep­ing an eye on the car in front of me, giv­ing it some breath­ing room at the light in case it was going to turn. The light turns green, there is a cyclist tak­ing up the lane in front of it, so even though I am going slow, I start to move beside the large SUV. With no turn sig­nal on, I assumed I could pass it on the shoulder.

Well, right as I am pass­ing the right rear tire the car begins to turn and I try to stop and let it pass but the car was too close. I start turn­ing with the car and my arm gets stuck to the side of the car and it begins to cart me up the road. I scream (and I am not a screamer). These two guys get the dri­vers atten­tion. He stops. I am able to stay on the bike and ride for­ward with­out los­ing bal­ance, get off the bike, and walk back to the road.
I talked to the dri­ver. But I was shak­ing and pretty spooked.

On Fri­day Matthew just missed get­ting in an acci­dent. The car next to him was hit and the win­dows shat­tered and he was able to get out of the way because it was in an inter­sec­tion. There was glass every­where. He stopped for a sec, but then went to his appt. at the DMV.
We just found out that one of his old co-workers was killed in a car accident.

Rid­ing bikes on the west side of LA makes you want to ride on the side­walk (i.e. break the law and lose your dignity).

There is no shar­ing the road in these parts. I wish the bike lane extended past the 405… I mostly wish that I could just ride my bike and not be scared any­more. There are so many close calls everyday…

I want things to move slower.
I want to enjoy the ride every time. Not just when I get lucky and the air is less thick and cars are a bit nicer.
I know that there are no babies allowed.
But some­times I won­der what it’s like not to feel like a lit­tle bitch every time you want a break.

There are no breaks in Los Ange­les. On your down time* you get hit by a car. WTF. And on your Old Man’s birth­day. It ain’t right.

*com­mut­ing

720-Santa Monica

1.
On the bus I hold my hel­met
It is offen­sive if you do not
set things down

You stand your guard

A seat opens

You keep read­ing because you can­not bear
the choice one seat over
another

we hold our breaths

2.
The weight of edu­ca­tion
Even now
I am so very light
My thoughts
F l a k e
I sweat, I move

I am so much weaker than I ever –wanted
Brit­tle and sad
The ground-up s(n)ack
Seated in my mother’s car
Between the folds in the backseat

The smell of our old apart­ment
–7 AM light
How the fog in the morn­ing held the night in the wind

3.
In West LA
I make bread
I make but­ter
I knead or I no-knead
I For­get what I have to say

No mat­ter

Crab on the counter stuffed from the front
eyes wide open
force­ful index and pointer
stuf­fin’ it real good with a piece of their mind