Sad Songs Are All I Know.

Sure, this weekend was glorious, and you all went on these sweet all-day rides out in the country with your friends, but last weekend the weather was crap. It rained pretty much for the entire two days, was cold, was windy. Definitely get-sick weather.

I'm still not really riding, so it didn't bother me. But I was getting hungry. So I rang up FJ and got him to bring around some Hot Cross Buns. He insisted on two things: that the crosses on the buns were upside down, and therefore in keeping with his totally kvlt lifestyle; and that they be fruit-free, because the dude don't abide by no fruit. I agreed to his terms and put on some coffee.

While he was making his way over Hurley rang up. He was on his way back home from Shep and had some stuff to drop off. I had some stuff of his too, and he was hoping to get it back before leaving for Taiwan. When he heard about the Hot Cross Buns he was convinced.

Eventually those two arrived. We sat around, ate the Buns, drank coffee, talked shit, read magazines and listened to music. Eventually Casey arrived home and volunteered to make dinner. She rustled up a feast and sat us all around the dinner table.

After dinner Casey and I were heading down to the Melbourne Madison. James had some party to go to, and, well, Hurley wanted to go get drunk somewhere. So we all went our separate ways.

But man, those three or four hours, just kicking around the house, that was just like pretty much every afternoon throughout my teenage years. The only difference was that back then the magazines were HeartattaCk or Punk Planet, whereas now I really only get Ride. And perhaps the music is a little more varied now, because back then I was totally HC 4 LYF. Sometimes this new life, of bikes and exercise and going to bed early, seems so different to everything that came before, so it's nice to realize that it's all the same. Only the words change.