The AHT show

...or how I singlehandedly revived the art of the drum circle.

We live in exciting times, and myself especially so. These last few weeks have been a constant whirlwind of tremendous and noteworthy events--events which have been so...um...eventful, that, if I were to blog them, your heads would instantly implode under the extreme mass of the awesomeness. Your brains, upon reading of my deeds, would literally collapse into the infamous "Singularity of Overwhelming Excitedness."

Oh well, let's risk it, here's what I've been doing:

• Saved nine kittens from four separate burning buildings.
  
• Disarmed a nuclear warhead using only a teabag and some wax-paper.
• Formulated the grand unified theory, in my head.
• Misplaced my pen, subsequently forgetting the aforementioned theory.
• Attempted the Ramen Challenge, only to fail miserably.
• Went to a local AHT show, put on by the local AHTist coalition.

It's the last of these items I wish to discuss with you today. If only because it happens to be the most recent in my memory. The rest, I'm afraid, are smothered in too much of an adrenaline-induced haze to be recollected clearly.

Anyway, AHT show.

It's theme was that of Tainted Love (not necessarily the song, although it would make good mood music for this post), and featured angst-riddled tributes to lost love in the form of poetry, paintings, and poi. Oh, and formal cat portraits.


I wish I had more to show, but yet again my camera failed me by dying at the least opportune moment. Of all of the fabulous examples of artistic creation there that night, the only photo--THE ONLY PHOTO--was the blurry example featured above. But I guess that, in a way, it shows the transient nature of the art scene.

It will all be forgotten tomorrow.

Or not, some of it was pretty good. We'll see.

Oh, and they had free wine (classy), though it was from a jug and served in plastic cups (not so much).

Bike-on-bike action!

...and by "action," I don't mean bike-pr0n (yeah, I know what you sick people come here for)

I meant, dear readers, that my bike, Lucy, and I were involved in a collision today. And yes, don't worry. Be assured that both bikes were unscathed (or at the very least, very lightly scathed). And so, the tale begins...

It was early morning, with the chill of the dawn laying heavily upon the air...when suddenly, disaster struck. (dum dum dummmm <--dramatic minor or augmented chord)

Nope, hold on. I don't think I'm properly conveying the intended tone of this post. If you need some mood music, open this in a tab whilst reading. (Or if you're feeling like something a bit more whimsical, try this)

Have you gotten it going? Good, let's continue.

So, I hit a dude with my bike.

As usual, I was barreling through campus with little to no regard for the safety of pedestrians, when ahead, streaking across the clearly-marked-"no bike"-crosswalk, another safety disregarding, barreling cyclist crossed my path. Now, I say "crossed my path," in the sense that, Lucy's front tire jammed into [as of yet unnamed bike's] front wheel, at which point both riders and their concomitant bicycles fell to the ground.

Before I continue, I'd like to take this moment to note that I did have time to react. My cat-like reflexes kicked in just in time, allowing me the wherewithal to shout, "whoa, whoa, WHOA!" before impact. However, my apparently sloth-like motor skills did not kick in, since I was spending that precious second between the realization and impact shouting in terror, i.e. NOT BRAKING.

Anyway, we're on the ground...but I spring up quickly, preparing (bravely) for the imminent pummeling, and turn to face my rival. "What? :o" I think, inserting an incredulous emoticon at the end of my thought-sentence, "an old dude? Oh great, it's not going to look good, at all, when he pummels me." Actually, let me rephrase. I shouldn't say "old," he was pretty spry for a guy looking fifty, especially when he jumped up and started to chuckle (at our situation, not in a maniacal way). When I soon realized that the pummeling situation was (hopefully) diffused, we exchanged the usual, "Are you all right? / Naw, it was totally my fault / I was just headed to class / How's the bike?" convo. Turns out everything was okay.

Then came the fifty-year-old guy, swooping in with a bro-hug.

And there I stood, amidst the crowds of students rushing to class, in the street, being embraced by a man I had met seconds before. It was a bit weird, but certainly better than the no-holds-barred, you-bent-my-bianchi, hipster beatdown I was expecting.

And, I guess that's about it. I straightened my front wheel and biked the rest of the way to class. Though I will say, for my first major accident involving a second party, it wasn't really that bad. Sure there was a bit of awkwardness involved, and I could have broken a guy's hip today, but I think that it's more important that we pay attention to the moral of the story:

Don't hit people with your bicycle, it leads to awkward moments.