Wednesdays feat of strength this week was sleeping in the woods. I didnt feel like doing it by myself again, so I ended up bailing, and as I said before, risked getting plowed by a drunk redneck. Sometimes the risk is a small price to pay to sleep in your own bed.

Nextly, I have to go on record here and say that personally, I have no love for the Ire stylings of the Reggae jam down, but the folks who are putting on this here event are really damn nice people, who have nary a bad bone in their bodies, so I have to give them a shout..

If that sounds up your alley, heres a bit more info about these good folks.

And to continue, let us not be mistaken- the California state university system is making the spelling classes number one in their priorities, and stuff.

And now a note from Shawn The Hobo Girl concerning her dearly departed homie Eric;

"I am sad today. My former roomie and friend died last Monday. I called him Lappegard Schmapagaard because an ex of his used to call him schamples. I had to make my own variation on this and he hated the current nickname for him, transperic. He made VeganNinga stick by sewing it in pink and black on the back of a jean jacket. I think it is true that memories grow sweeter as time goes on, but honestly a week goes by and they couldn’t get sweeter. It is already chocolate chip cookie confection perfection. He once threw a messenger race with the theme of Homecoming. We danced at the after party and he was so excited because I like to dance. I told him I would take him ballroom dancing sometime. I never did and I think he woulda liked it.

He liked so many things, but most of all vegan food and biking. Yip, he was a cyclist. He met his end in a car accident moving out to the west coast. Usually it is the journey along the way, but in this case no. The night of Homecoming we biked most of the way home, up to Lowry because at that time he was not my roommate, he helped me with my big poofie Cinderella dress. He is the only boy I know that would have several techniques to ride a bike with planned out to assist girls with as he biked with them. Two days before he left he told me it was his dream to find a girl who would ride matching bikes with him. It was sweet and he was still looking for that girl. I told him I would derby him down because it would be so cute and I couldn’t stand it. Then he said he would knock me down and look heroic in front of the girl. I said I would let him. My little head keeps playing stories and interactions with him. The arguments are gone, the disagreements are forgotten, and only the good memories remain. The rest of us are still on our journey’s in life and I am glad he was part of mine.

His funeral processional was lead by us bicyclists. I even broke out the track bike that had never been on the road for it, I am not the important focus here, but it is a lovely chrome Bianchi Pista. The bone chilling site left most watching breathless. It was moving to proceed to the hallowed grounds of the cemetery by bicycle. The 20 MPH clip seemed as if we were in slow motion. I have never been a part of anything like that before and probably will not again. Something that special cannot be planned. So, in the afterlife he was pushing us to new limits. Making people see how cycling is important. I think all of his family and friends saw it that day, and with myself it reinforced it, even though I never question the importance of it and the importance of good friends like him. (Even though the first day he moved in he drank all my beer, bastard!-he replaced it with my teary eyes-I thought that was sad—well, he eventually taught me what sad was, but so much more too) It makes me smile now and I am glad he drank the 30 pack of Hamns because he is probably in heaven, because according to the pastor that is where he is and up there they don’t have beer. Cycling has brought me to meet some good folks. And Schamples knew he was loved in the darkest hour which is good. His brooding Ian Curtis ways always lead to a smile and I know he was happy a benefit was being planned for him. A few days before he left I told him he had a community here that loved him and if he ever needed a benefit like Zito because he broke his arm that one would be arranged. He said no, I wouldn’t ask for that. I told him he wouldn’t have to and he didn’t. The nice folks in this cycling community just organized it. I don’t know anything about it, but I will see what I can do for it. Maybe just show up."

Heres to Eric, wherever he is.