I once dated a girl who’s sarcasm was impossible to read. In retrospect, it probably was meant to be that way. I haven’t met very few people who claimed to be able to tell the difference. It makes it hard to look back at the things she said and take anything from them. She once attributed some changes in my life to choice she made. It sounded serious, but it could have been a joke. Grain of salt, blah blah blah.

It’s an almost perfect night out. I was riding my fixed down Airport Way between the Awful Shark and Georgetown, listening to The Bends. I’ve talked and thought in the past about how many of the things that have transpired since I’ve moved to Seattle totally shifted my views of the world, industry, culture and myself.

Fifteen years ago, the list of things I didn’t know, couldn’t comprehend and hadn’t done was tremendous. The Bends hadn’t even been released yet. That’s not a particularly epic event to transpire in my life, but I associate Radiohead with memories of the nineties. People in Seattle don’t seem to listen to Radiohead either, at least not with the fervor reserved for a band Dan Bejar has touched; maybe I’m just getting old for reals, in the ways that count.

By day, I’m a fan of systems. I pierce them with a hard glare until their secrets are revealed to me. This usually takes time of examining the parts. There comes a time when you look back and realize that you now see the artful beauty of a system that is much more than the bolts and threads that went into it.

The parts that make up who I am are no longer the bolts they once were. Once let loose on the world, bits from everywhere leak in and your personality is weaved into a tapestry of life. I can [and will] tell you endless stories of how I got here. I can also, now more than ever, tell you what direction I’m heading in tomorrow. No more, as I have no destination in mind. If you try to pick the threads out to see where they came from… well, that’s a long story.