pssssst! brainfag is retired! i'm now at



posted in Home Jabber on July 10, 2003

From the genius mind of Scott with his duct-taped dual-instacam contraption: a three-dimensional unflattering shot of Nate! Cross your eyes until the image "pops out" and witness the splendor of dorko Nate making a 'PLOOF!' shape with his mouth. I'm sure Nate bowled a strike: he was in Junior League in Middle School. He owned his own bowling ball at age 11. Why am I talking about myself in the third person?

Riding home a few minutes ago I came across a crumpled man lying next to his bike just off the street on Alberta and Cleveland.. I caught a glimpse of blood as I passed him and turned around.. as I approached him I realized he was seriously bashed up and his head was mangled with rocks and blood, his shirt torn and stained. Thrown instantly into that shock-stupor from serious accidents, I asked if he was alright.. if he wanted me to call an ambulance. A car pulled over and a family jumped out looking at me very suspiciously as if I had just beat the living shit out of this man. The guy gets up and says no, he's fine (which he's obviously not) and proceeds to stagger into Alberta, stopping traffic. A little girl yells at me "Don't let him go!"

I tell them I just came across him myself, that I tried to help him. We're all making 'WoaWoa' sounds as if our verbal concern will stop him from getting hit by cars. In a matter of seconds he's swerved his way down Cleveland and disappeared. I'm still stupid from shock and we mumble something about head injuries, maybe he's drunk, how the family rides bikes, you know, wonder if he was hit by a car, etc, and I ride away. Jesus hell I repeat over and over. Weird.

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