Crashbox

I'm content.

The high-schoolers in their mom's grocery-getter yelled 'FAG!' at me as I rode home on my bike after job hunting. The blonde bike-shop owner laughed at me when I walked in, and snickered again when I said I needed street tires for my mountain bike because I was going to be riding to work every day. I didn't understand why until he said, 'You're from California, huh?' I'm not sure what all this means; maybe I should get a haircut. Then again, I have never minded being thought of as the weirdo.(I think TAC is the only place where I haven't universally been thought so). But I feel the old thrill of making the best of what you have, and you know what? I have it better than most.