About 20 min ago my motorcycle ran out of its reserve tank gas. The guy I bought it from was wrong- you can make it 13 miles, not 10, on the reserve tank and no more. Fumes do not help. It’s sitting on Del Gado before Acequia Madre. I walked to a local tea house down the million dollar quaint Canyon road art galleries bursting with huge price tags, some good but repetitive art but mostly outright crap. My weighty backpack is loaded with laptop stuff and the pieces that will soon become my picture portfolio for blades and other hand made pieces. I wasn’t about to walk to the nearest gas station in the opposite direction with this load and in these boots. Besides- I’d have to buy a new gas container and because it’s a ‘historic’ gas station (and the only one in the downtown area) it’s bloody expensive. This theme of being thwarted by my own cheapness will come up again in my next paragraph. You wouldn’t believe.  
 
I’m trying to cool my heels and wait here at the tea house because, in the face of fate, what more can you do? Call Ghost Busters? But it doesn’t work, it never does. I don’t work like that and everyone else I know is AT work right now. No- instead I rile against fate like always. To add insult to injury I’m starving, I don’t want to spend a lot of money here, and what do my eyes land on listed in the menu?: 
 
Struggling artist’s meal 
Small salad greens only with dressing and bread $5.75  
 
Who the fuck are you kidding; even if you are the best tea house in town in one of the most expensive areas! Your wi-fi is like a lame dog! 
 
In other news it’s either allergies or altitude sickness I’ve got. I’m not exactly congested, I have dry mucus, but my god my brow/frontal lobe throbs. I will have to take up my regiment of neti potting my nose out and taking Zone 6 again.

last modified Apr 25, 2008 at 13:44

[ add a comment ]