So, I have oft referred to myslef as someone who can 'write', but I do not consider myself a 'writer'. Huge gap here. Between the folks who write books and the folks who say "One day...I will write a book". the latter are usually ful of shit. The former, navigare the vagaries of the world and make their living actually writing words. So, I have wanted to take the blog posts (barf) of the last 15 years (yes, i started blogging on a typewrites) and combine them with some of the major shit I have slipped through in my life and write a for real book. The working title is: "The Art of The Comute". The hope being that somewhere in the midst of reezing and sweating and living and dying and marriage and divorce and marriage and death and life and death and death and adoption and life....that I may have something worthwhile today. If I don't - then it's my bad - as I have rolled htrough some flames and some solid 'life'. I wanted to publish said vanity title on my 25th year of living here - in this same house - to commemorate actually making it thus far. BUTT - in the 'mid-life crisis' sense of the word - I am about to turn 50 (hold breathe and grab the defibrulator). I would hope - that at 50 - I would have something reasonable to offer the world. Or not. May I be so judged with impunity and honesty. So, I commit - here - in this public venue - with all the books that surround me and inspire me - that in approximately 14 months - you will be able to dive seep - if you so choose - into this last 25 years of moving through life on a bike. I kind of want to crowd suck some of this..so if there is a particular post or detail or sentiment you feel would need to be in said 'book' - let me know. I feel like writing is like riding. I do it for excercise and in the hopes of getting a little better at it each time I do it. My POV is flawed and me-dimesnional. Bring on the truth. And know - certainly - what will be in your stocking on the 24th of December, 2013. Oh, faithful reader.