Apparently I’m a hipster now, as Monica teased me for BMX helmet, short haircut, graphic t-shirt, and bandanna whilst riding my fixed gear bicycle sporting a messenger bag. Most of those have perfectly reasonable expectations. But they really don’t matter.

Talked to Scott this morning about shit that’s going on, at least what I can talk about, which lead to the timing of M breaking up with me, finding out about A’s death in such close proximity to my birthday and my great grandmothers death, left out dealing with the layoffs and whatnot. It didn’t really matter beyond that it sucked.

Correction, B’s dad’s birthday was the day of my motorcycle accident. I think he would have been 25, which was how old I was when I had my accident. Still bizarre.

Fuck though. Today sucks. I can’t wait for tomorrow to be over. So much on my chest, the implications of which send waves through everything else. I’ll see B in a bit, which will be comforting, then a chance to talk with J for a while, which I wish I had a few hours for before tomorrow instead of one.