Monday started productively. I finished the necesary 501(c)(3) application materials and sent them to Barry at ACC's Non-Profit Center to have him review them. Hopefully there won't be too many corrections to make.

I almost immediately turned that game I had found, but at 1:00 in the afternoon it had lost a great deal of its charm. I finished it and fiddled with some of its other features, but soon left to work on my bike at YBP and never returned to it. Unfortunately, YBP was closed, and I wasn't able to work on my bike. On my way over, though, I had repeated thoughts of the couple hundred dollars in my wallet and fear that somebody would rob me. It's never happened, and I've only heard of one friend being mugged in that neighborhood. Still, it's the only place in Austin where that sort of thing happens, as far as I know. So I stashed my money elsewhere when I got back.

I was feeling crappy that evening, probably because I'd wasted a good hour or two playing a game and I felt guilty about it. I went for a walk, but that diddn't help things too much. So I rode over to Bikes Across Borders and started working on a bike. Ignosio spent a half hour showing me the shop and then recommending a bike to me. It was already mostly built, and all I had to do was true the wheels, align the gears, and touch up a few other issues. I stayed there for probably three hours working on the bike, and it was almost done when I left.

As I was going, a man who stays at the Rhizome tried to tell me something in Spanish, and I was completely incapable to understanding him. It led to a lot of miming, and ultimately I realized that he wanted me to leave a gap in the door while I was locking up. That was the second convesation somebody tried to have with me in Spanish that day.

That night I looked for another game. I found a good one which I played until about three in the morning. The next I was groggy from it, and I was in a foul mood for most the day.

It started with a lunch out with Adam, Wyatt, Sarah, and Matt. I was quiet for most of the meal, but I wasn't unhappy at the time and nobody seemed bothered by my silence. We each bought something to share with everyone, and the feast was ultimately exsessive. Almost everyone was slow and happy from the amount of food we ate. There was a great deal left over, too. Thinking back on it now, I wonder if any of us cleaned up after ourselves. I hope so. I know the people who work there, at least in so far as I recognize them and they recognize me. It would be embarassing if they now associated me with a big mess.

When I got back, I caught the tell end of Lauren giving a tour to a weaver named Margo. She wanted a studio to set up her loom in. She seemed nice, like my mother. As she was leaving, she and her friend talked about how much she had changed in the last forty years. She had started out as a bank teller in Wisconsian, but he led her to become a free spirit in Austin.

I spent the next couple of hours in a groggy, full stupor. I played my banjo some, pulling a chair out into the courtyard so I could sit under the sun. I felt good, and I remember feeling a bit of pride that I could now play in front of people. Aim was here, as was Lauren. My playing wasn't great, and I knew it. But still, I was overcoming a sort of stage fright. The wierd thing is, for the next hour--every time I walked by Aim, I half expected her to comment positively on my playing.

I gave another tour a painter named Court just before sunset. She seemed like a calm, solid person, and she dressed with a pleasent amount of class. She was kind of like Ilana, and she was also from Chicago. She wasn't interested in our space, though, and as I kept trying to sell one to her, she eventually made the comment that her paintings are her living. She takes them very seriuosly. And it's funny how that hurt, even though she didn't intend it to. Because ultimately she was distinguishing herself from the people here, who couldn't dress with the same sort of class. We couldn't sell our work. We were just acting at being artists.

I was really upset after that, and in an effort to feel better I played football with Enrique. It helped me blow off some steam, though even that ended with a frustrating session. I threw the ball onto the roof of one of the warehouses, it got stuck, and I needed to attach several poles to eachother to scrape it back down. At least I got it down again, though.

I was exhuasted after all of that, and even when Christian showed up for a surprise visit and had to lay down and take a nap. I didn't get up again until everyone left for Bikes Across Borders. I finished working on my bike, and basically came to accept the fact that I wouldn't be able to join them on the trip because I wouldn't be able to find somebody to replace me in the warehouse. Still, I was proud to have polished the bike to the point where it could do everything in perfect operating condition. It certainly didn't start that way. And when I handed it off to Roy and told him I probably wouldn't be able to join them and would like to see somebody else ride it down to Mexico, he seemed really grateful.

When I got back, I wanted to immediately start playing the game I had found. However, I knew I would have to work all day on New Years and needed good energy, so I made some lentil barley stew. Aim, Tuesday, Matt, and I ended up staying up until midnight talking, which was good. At one point Matt asked us to each talk about our year. Afterwards, I decided to play the game anyway. It kept me up until three in the morning again. And once again, I was groggy when I woke up.