Bikes, Boys, Insanity and Job Offers....

My Gary Fisher was stolen almost exactly one year ago – give or take a week.
Today it was returned to me.
Job offers/ interviews are rolling in daily. Some of them sound wonderful. Weird.
For the first time in ten years, I think I may be on the verge of being in a relationship. Not quite sure how he feels, but I think I’m kind of addicted to the guy. Weird.
In three weeks, the most important project of my life – the one woman show about my AZ experience featuring my original music as part of the Cincinnati Fringe Festival – takes to the stage. Insane.
The publicity, promotion, graphic design, media contact and other preparedness for the show – outside of the writing, producing, directing, performing – is an absolutely crazy and hectic learning experience.
My first ever 100 mile bike ride was almost one week ago!!! Yeah, go me. We rode to Rabbit Hash, KY, which is actually only a 75 mile round trip. I’ve done that much mileage twice before; Anthony had never gone so far. We were almost home when I turned to him “So…how you feelin?”
”Like we should rack up another 25 and hit 100 in one day.”
“Fuck yeah.”
Life is good. Hopefully, my show will be as well.

Brilliant Thugs

If life wasn’t so damn exciting, I might get more work done. Each time I walk down my street: an adventure. Each bike ride through the ghetto produces another story of endearment or disgust. Every shift in the weather: another little miracle to rejoice in. Every conversation with a stranger: enlightening. (Well, not every. Slightly more than half, though!)
Today I’m outside my favorite ghetto hand: The Ice Cream Palace. I’m geeked out in cycling spandex, when three thugs walk up. I use the term thugs loosely, ‘cuz though they were clothed in ghetto gear, they certainly exuded a positive energy and seemed clean and kind. We start talking about the state of the ‘hood, Over-the-Rhine, the community and how city council is intentionally preventing progress in this area. The subject sways to the country, the world, the war….
The most articulate and outspoken of my three thug friends is incredibly impassioned, animatedly depicting the correlation between today’s world and the Babylon of biblical times and the Spanish Inquisition and quoting Homer, The Illiad & The Odyssey, and noting relevant Greek Mythology…. He was amazing. Brilliant. And all this talk of the scripture and quoting the New York Times and the three books he read last week – all infused with street slang. “So my boy Christopher Columbus – who was actually a Jew named Christopher Boyd – had to holla at Queen Isabella and say ‘Yo sis, check it: the gold in the New World, it’s some tight shit, and we’s gots to pay off the Spaniards to win…’” He was far more versed in history, mythology, religious texts and the state of life in OTR than I could ever be. I was silent, in awe of the street slang spewing articulate intellectual analysis of every major writing and belief system and their relevance to the world today.
“You are amazing, my new friend. What are you doing just chilling in the ‘hood?”
“I’m selling dope. It’s the only way I can make a living. Couldn’t graduate high school living in this shit hole….”
Never has my longing for a video camera been so intense as throughout this conversation.
“Hey Butter!” The call comes from across the street. A large, unhealthy looking white woman waddles over. “I just got out. Yeah, was in for fifteen days. They got me on selling weed, on prostitution, on disorderly conduct… all sorts of shit.”
The conversation deteriorates to talk of jail time.
“We is lucky” says one thug. “We ain’t been caught by the cops, or shot at, or nothing.”
I’m somewhat aghast. A: at the quick turn in the depth and context of conversation. B: that these people are actually telling ME – cookie-cutter clean (looking) white bicycle chick in padded spandex – about their drug dealings and such.
“You are brilliant” I say to Butter. “You could do so much with your passion and knowledge. Best of luck. I hope I see you again.”
I love magic encounters with beautiful strangers.