Thursday, March 29, 2018

Zen and the art of throwing off a bicycle chain

There's no art to throwing a bike chain—though being in first gear is always riskier—but in my case it's physics. I am a big person on a big bike frame and over time things get loose and the chain starts coming off.

I had accepted that the outside ride was dead after the chain came off the fourth time and I had enough battery to throttle home. Angry mentally ill Mikey would have had a spack attack at that and ranted about forces working against him. Zen Mikey just went "it's not happening" and back home I went.

Before the ride a loud motorbike had roared past our house and I barely registered it. During the glide back a murder bird—the Australian white cockatoo—swooped down in front of me screeching its death wail (DC15 Will or shaken for 1d6 minutes) and it did not phase me. Even after the whole chain thing.

Thanks to thewife I know the best way to get the chain back on—and that I got it on three times with a minimum of effort (though it's still effort to drop and lift a man trike) was a miracle in itself given my shoddy hands that were fucked in the womb and then outside of it. Though I confess the second time I put it back on it I had shouted "Fuck you, Newton" as if he was the embodiment of physics that I had just defeated but which later fucked me back twice.

My recent psych session was brutal; we went into extra innings and had to figure out the billing code to pay for it. But today I am Zen, or feeling more so, than I have before in the aftermath of a session. I guess though it was a difficult consult it hosed off some of the mental chicken shit that's built up on my mind path.

Here's to the battle for acceptance of things past. It might never be won but it's a battle worth fighting.


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