Chicken Fat:

If it smelled just a little better, I would cover all my cycling clothes in it.


Mr. Scotty C says, "Make space my friend, make space."

But how can there be any space for space when I'm stumbling over all these roots, rocks, and logs?

"Make space."

But the moss is to slippery to make space.

"My friend, make space."

The trail is too narrow. I need to fit right here.

Then the moment when you see.

The trail is moving.

The trail jogs left. The trail jogs right. The trail winds up, before carrying you down.

The body is moving.

The trail is living, just as you are living.

As you move, the trail moves.

We are moving together. We are dancing.

The moss is grace, the ups are strength,

And the downs are speed.

All this space when we are dancing.

Rest well.