Bike Trip - Quitting Caffeine
I suppose I have tendency to not thoroughly think things through. I think in actions not in consequences. My brain, you might say, sets me up for disaster and disappointment. It falsifies minor scenarios in my head, like the notion that the deep south would be mostly beautiful, its towns people articulate, and it's woods mosqueeterless. These images were quickly ransacked, but I made do with the sad reality that was left in their place. Certainly after twenty four years of having to live with this mind I've learned to deal with disillusionment and make best with it. This time though my mind also decided to fabricate a much more major effigy. One in which after twelve years of caffeine addiction, I stop my intake cold turkey on my bike trip and never look back. I ride freely and happily through the hills. Free of caffeine's dirty-fingersnails-grasp I bike my forty plus miles a day a changed man, a better person.
Day three of no caffeine my head is splitting. I bike in the heat with angry grunts and curse everything that gets in my way, and everything that doesn't. I'm livid about everything. I have a new profound hatred for America and the fact that there are more nowheres than somewheres. The fact that we are vastly out numbered by fire ants and rednecks, and either could take over the world if they so desire. I'm upset that she didn't call last night, and that communication in general was lacking quite a bit. I hoped for at least some communication about why there was so little communication and now my phone didn't have service so I could't even be positive that she was ignoring me. I was thrown into a position where it was acceptable to hope that she was trying to call and text while I biked, I'd rather just have an in service phone and know she wasn't than have to start day dreaming about what messages I may find when service returned.
I had spent the night in an old church yard in the shadows of a giant tree. I didn't realize how down my morale was until I was awoken by intense cow mooing and the sound of roosters in the distance but didn't have it in me to laugh. I headed out and had biked for all of a minute when I realized my backpack was infested with fire ants, and they were now attacking me.
hours later I was still periodically getting bitten. I stopped to break wanting nothing more than coffee but drinking water when I noticed the stow away spider that had made a cozy web on my bike. "Fuck you!" I told him as I flicked him off the bike, as if it was his fault I tried quitting caffeine and it was now unavailable to me to even relapse on.
I pedaled another fifteen miles of dissimulated hell when I decided to take another break. I hopped off my bike in an agitated state near that of psychosis when I spotted the spider back in his original position. At that moment everything that was wrong with my life was that spider's fault. The fact that she hadn't called me the night before or answered my text, the fact that I was all bloody from thorns, covered in bug bites from a vast amount of species, that I could taste the dirt on my lips, and I had blistering saddle sores on my crotch, all of these things were the spiders fault. "You!" I grabbed the mace hanging from my shorts and in a fit of rage pumped it. At the moment my finger pressed down there was a sudden change in wind direction. In the granola coffee shops of Orlando, where the kids who fancy themselves to be intellects gather to engage in philosophical conversation and pretentiously refer to it as such, this is what we refer to as "Instant Karma". Instead of being enlightened it only fueled my indignation. I flicked him to the ground and stomped him repeatedly. I kept stomping long after he was just a bit of juice on the ground and I hoped he could still feel every stomp. As if this overkill wasn't enough I hopped back on my bike and cursed his passed soul for the next half hour, "Stupid cocksucking spider!"
The next day I reincorporated caffeine into my diet and found myself whistling Bob Dylan songs for the first two hours of biking.
The moral of the story? There is no amount of unhealthy that could possibly justify life without caffeine.
Day three of no caffeine my head is splitting. I bike in the heat with angry grunts and curse everything that gets in my way, and everything that doesn't. I'm livid about everything. I have a new profound hatred for America and the fact that there are more nowheres than somewheres. The fact that we are vastly out numbered by fire ants and rednecks, and either could take over the world if they so desire. I'm upset that she didn't call last night, and that communication in general was lacking quite a bit. I hoped for at least some communication about why there was so little communication and now my phone didn't have service so I could't even be positive that she was ignoring me. I was thrown into a position where it was acceptable to hope that she was trying to call and text while I biked, I'd rather just have an in service phone and know she wasn't than have to start day dreaming about what messages I may find when service returned.
I had spent the night in an old church yard in the shadows of a giant tree. I didn't realize how down my morale was until I was awoken by intense cow mooing and the sound of roosters in the distance but didn't have it in me to laugh. I headed out and had biked for all of a minute when I realized my backpack was infested with fire ants, and they were now attacking me.
hours later I was still periodically getting bitten. I stopped to break wanting nothing more than coffee but drinking water when I noticed the stow away spider that had made a cozy web on my bike. "Fuck you!" I told him as I flicked him off the bike, as if it was his fault I tried quitting caffeine and it was now unavailable to me to even relapse on.
I pedaled another fifteen miles of dissimulated hell when I decided to take another break. I hopped off my bike in an agitated state near that of psychosis when I spotted the spider back in his original position. At that moment everything that was wrong with my life was that spider's fault. The fact that she hadn't called me the night before or answered my text, the fact that I was all bloody from thorns, covered in bug bites from a vast amount of species, that I could taste the dirt on my lips, and I had blistering saddle sores on my crotch, all of these things were the spiders fault. "You!" I grabbed the mace hanging from my shorts and in a fit of rage pumped it. At the moment my finger pressed down there was a sudden change in wind direction. In the granola coffee shops of Orlando, where the kids who fancy themselves to be intellects gather to engage in philosophical conversation and pretentiously refer to it as such, this is what we refer to as "Instant Karma". Instead of being enlightened it only fueled my indignation. I flicked him to the ground and stomped him repeatedly. I kept stomping long after he was just a bit of juice on the ground and I hoped he could still feel every stomp. As if this overkill wasn't enough I hopped back on my bike and cursed his passed soul for the next half hour, "Stupid cocksucking spider!"
The next day I reincorporated caffeine into my diet and found myself whistling Bob Dylan songs for the first two hours of biking.
The moral of the story? There is no amount of unhealthy that could possibly justify life without caffeine.