10/28: "Pronounced limp; 'L-I-M-P', pronounced, 'limp.'"

-I made a really fun pair of mugs that read: "I remember when your meth use still seemed romantic;" and "Baby, can't we have those times back again?" I've started realizing that it's okay to make the art I actually want. Similarly, I saw the opening of a really fun show at USDAN. It made me want to be a punk again.

10/21: "At least I wasn't drunk!"

-Jake took me down to the Police Station in his truck to retrieve my wrecked bike, which the cops had taken as evidence. As we were leaving, the cop yelled, "Next time, wear a helmet! And get a light for your bike! And wear light clothing!" I really wanted to respond with the title of this post, but I didn't feel that cocky. Then Jake and I went to the beverage den and got some nice beers, deciding it was the adult equivalent of going to the ice cream parlor after you get your tonsils out.

10/20: "I understand; you're a cop."

-I was riding my bike down Prospect Street like a good girl (proverbially speaking), and, diverting my attention from the road to return Jackson's good-natured wave, got plowed down by a rather dirty man in a big red truck. My bike got pretty mangled up, but I escaped with a bruised knee and a badly sprained ankle. While waiting for the ambulance, the driver nervously lit up a cigarette, and I made him give it to me, which seemed to lighten everyone's mood and ensure the witnesses that I was still alive enough to harm myself intentionally. The cop made me stub it out, though, once he showed up.

-At the hospital, an aging male nurse and I had the following conversation: 

"Since you're a lady, you probably would't appreciate my saying that you look like Harry Potter."

"Not at all--that's kind of the look I'm going for."

"I wouldn't be surprised if you had a wand in those blankets there."

"[Honey,] If I had a wand, this [indicating my leg] shit wouldn't be going on."

[The RN chuckles]

Later, he referred to me as "Harriet Potter."

-I am super-psyched to be not concussed or fucked up any worse than I am.  I realized how wonderful it was that I happened to be riding an old racing bike, the type of bike which is basically designed to crash well. In celebration,

-I keep realizing awesome things that happened: when I got home, I watched a DVD of Danny Brylow on Teen Jeopardy circa 2000. My little heart was warmed, especially when Danny told Alex he wanted to be "a theologian," and proceeded to win $7000.

10/15: "He died thinking that he found India!"

-I was putting up flyers for this show I'm going to play in Fels, and I was spirited away to the beverage den by Mags and Tyler and Jesse Russell. When Mags and Tyler approached the counter with their purchases, the lady said, "So, ya like beer?"

10/14: "Give her a name she will answer to"

-Ever since I've started identifying as a dude, my "moon time" has been intolerable. It's almost as though my uterus knows it's on its way out, and wants to go down in a blaze of glory. After dinner, it set up the phalanx and rushed out, 300-style (obv. my gender-fabulous id is the Persians.) I was sweating and shaking and on the verge of vomiting up my bland tempeh and kale, which I probably would have done if Ian hadn't been in the other room and I hadn't been embarrassed about ralphing, lest he think I was a bulimoid. So I lay down on the floor of my room and did some pilates while I listened to Joni Mitchell. I felt much better after a few hours of this. It's like the old baby bag was like, "BE A WOMAN!" and I was like, "Okay, okay, whatever you want!" But I kind of liked it. Do you even *know* how good Blue is? Real good.