morning ride

living in the oc i've felt like a fish out of water. i'm frustrated, angry and i'll bitch about it. some days i'm sure i'm going to go crazy, but if i really think about it, sometimes you have to deal with the shit to appreciate when you have it good. here's how i'm starting to cope:

i wake up with my mouth still sticky from last nights jameson. drag my ass out of my bunk [why the fuck did i think this was a good idea?] shoes, socks, helmet, turn up the oven; i'm off the boat, on my bike, cruising through the parking lot when i finally start to wake up. the idea is to do this every morning. like most things that are good for you, but require work, i have to talk myself into it every morning. i ride my route- past 'italian' restaurant and rich-asshole club, getting a laugh at which cars are left at the valet from the night before. too drunk to drive the hummer home. down the road which has yet to fill up with cars. this early the only people up and about are joggers, and people who actually have to work for a living [mexicans]. as i pedal by, the road-side flora lets off the scent of sage and slippery elm, the sweet herbal smell reminding me of the all natural cough drops my mom fed me as a child. even in this affluent neighborhood trash litters the hill like christmas decorations for the carefully landscaped yards. up a little hill, enough to make me sweat, and slight curve to the right; under a pedestrian over-pass and my road dead ends into another cross street. after checking my left flank for homicidal morning commuters, i "flip a bitch" and head back. this is the fun part. the little hill up is now a hill down and as i pick up speed, legs pumping, i feel the exhilaration that makes me do this every morning. flying past gardeners, contractors, and couples in matching [insert popular over-priced brand name here] running wear, i let go of my [oft' times abundant] anger and bask in a feeling of freedom from my angst and nauseating surroundings. the ride ends at starbucks for lack of anywhere else to go. dismounting with the same tired satisfaction that follows a really good fuck, i enter back into the reality of my surroundings with a smirk and a renewed sense of fortification. looking at my fellow morning caffeine seekers, i have to smile. i'm not one of them. i know that there is much much more to life than shoes and cars, carbs and handbags. i don't need shitloads of money or the envy of my peers. i can find inner peace peddling over asphalt at six thirty in the morning. i can get personal satisfaction atop my ten-speed. i guess it's what some people get from religion. it's what i get from my morning ride.

this doesn't mean that every thing is fucking buttercups and daisies. i'm still lonely, and starved for good conversation. i'm fuckin horny as all get out my usual bunk warmer is miles away- even the lesbians here don't like me and stupid guys from catalina get my digits, but still don't bother to call. it's not enough to make me ever consider living here "for reals", but i get some psychotherapy that's free, and not bad for my liver- yippie! that's enough to keep me on the verge of madness. none of this off the deep-end shit for me. if it doesn't kill me it makes me stronger, right?