How goes blogging?

Hey, does it seem like a clue when it's hard enough to think of a subject for a blog that some among us might be having a hard time writing a play?

Anyway, I'm on the clocking; it's ticking down. I have about 15 minutes to say something intriguing before I head out to the cell phone lot at Logan and negotiate my way to Terminal B.

If there's a clock ticking, then there must be some dramatic tension...

Tick
Tick

The best I can come up with is near misses. Today, a guy driving an oversized pick-up in Harvard Square almost clocked me in the head with his sideview mirror. I guess there wasn't enough road for my bike and his truck. Last week, a driver in a white suburban (I didn't check the plates for a state) almost drove into me head-on as he led out of his side street into me. I was directly in front of him, foolishly waving my hand out at his hood as though upon impact, I would just make a leap to his windshield wiper and beg for no concussions.

I'm not an adrenalin-junkie per se, but this whole daylight savings time is really running havoc with my bike commute. If possible, I think drivers are even less attentive - even when it is reasonably well-lit outside. I know I'm well-lit: got the flourescent jacket, the flashing high-beam, the battering red tail light.

I get home and my hands hurt for about an hour after gripping onto my handlebars so tightly. But the problem is, I won't give up on the bike commute so easily.

If I could put this energy to work on my script, I'd be cool.

Instead I find myself writing narrative fiction. Closing shop on my writers' group. Buying magazines about running and wondering what a fartlek is. Oh, and praising Nutella.

It's a tangled web when attempting to escape creativity.

I'll take the car to the airport. It's just ridiculous to think I could carry Kim's bike on my back the entire way!