I had the most awesome day.

Bike ride with my cousin (Bob - STPman) on the Kitsap Peninsula. There was a 9:30am passenger ferry I was really wanting on, despite being late and having not even enough cash for the piddly fare, which made me stop at the cash machine on Madison as I peddled frantically toward the water. Down James, brakes on because it's so damn steep. I thought I'd have time to stop somewhere for a hot chocolate and a bagel, but no. Always late, always suffering for it. I ate one of the power bars I'd hauled all the way here from Korea on the boat. And the boat! I leave the country and the Washington State Ferry system finally gets its but in gear with a decent boat. Chinook, it's called. Very nice inside. Lacking vending machines, but the NW native coast art is very good and the bike racks are handy too.

But the best part was the ride across the open channel of the sound. A surprise showing by the sun making the water just blue, blue, blue. My seat faced north where the blue blue of the sky was separated by the darker blue blue of the water by a thin layer of white morning fog. Against it, two ferries on the Bainbridge route exchanged places. Behind me, the spectacular glass rising up from Seattle sparkled in the new sun. My God it was so beautiful! And there I was with my headphones on listening to a CD single of To The Moon and Back by Savage Garden. (Are these guys some kind of dorky pop duo passing through? Image is so important. Anyway, it doesn't matter because this song reminds me of this place.) I looked out the window at the gorgeous water. I need it. I physically must be near it. I thought for awhile that I might like living in the desert, but now I think I couldn't, at least not for very long. And then I turned inside, gazing at the art born from this place by people of this water, this soil. And it was like me. I am of this place and I need to be here. I thought about what John Yurich told me in our meeting the other day about location and how if I chose a location it would neaten the choices of graduate schools so much more... Yeah, I thought. I'll just go to school here. I might have to give up my dreams of conquering the world though. God, I don't want this whole Korea thing to fuck with my dreams. I don't want to compromise my ambitions because I feel like I'm damaged goods and it's not enough that I have lost three years, but must also take more years to heal.

Aie chom.

Thirty minutes later I'm in Bremerton. I wasn't aware of the passage of time, not aware that the ride was actually a full 30 minutes shorter than any other ferry crossing between Seattle and Bremerton. I had to wait for Bob.

We started up Illahee, north along the shoreline from Bremerton. Long uphill grades, Bob-STPman kickin my ass. My heart pounding loudly, the saddle still sore from the short rides I've been doing around Seattle. I felt strong though. The physical exertion removed some of the burden weighing on my heart and head.

To Keyport, then Poulsbo. I couldn't stop thinking about how 12 years ago I rode around in the warm summer days along Kitsap shorelines, often with Bob. I rode much in those days, thinking of the blonde boy I wanted, who had already discarded me; thinking too about another blonde boy of the water I'd met on a small chunk of land in the San Juans. I never saw the latter again, but I did win the first boy back only to trade him in for another more interesting one. That summer. Man, I rode 20 miles a day around Beach Dr. Walkman clipped to those tiny shorts; a tiny tank top leaving my shoulders bare for burning. I couldn't live without the trip along the water. It made me stronger. I became something then that I've been only rarely since. I felt larger than life and when I remarked on it to others I said it was because of the negative ions emitted from the water.

My own Wonder Years story. Heh.

You know, it's twelve years and I've thought about the Chinese zodiac and its twelve year cycles. How some years are good years and some are bad. Are Tiger years good for me? I learned in Jan from Shell that this is a good year for Cancers too. God I just want a fucking good year. Look at me go for the astrology thing. How convenient: Go for the astrological shit as a last ditch effort.

Here I am biking with my cousin again. North above Poulsbo too, toward Hood Canal. Turning left and then back down toward Silverdale. Clear Creek road was the best: long, flat for miles. We cruised along at 20mph and I decided I liked that speed as it was just fast enough to keep me cool, make me feel like I'm really moving, while not wearing me out. On Silverdale I suffered a hissing flat and Bob-STPman changed in like, light speed. But still, the stop was too long, my muscles had cooled and I hadn't eaten enough that morning. Getting back on, pain shot up from those two circles of bone balancing on that tiny seat and my muscles refused to move. I was dead. All I could think was how I just wanted to get to the ferry, just wanted to get to food.

And I did make it. Scarfed a garden burger while marveling over the mileage: 44, not counting the ride down to the ferry. I've never ever done that in one day before.

Back on the ferry, gliding along the surface. Ohh, so sweet to be alive and witness the incredible water. I was ready for the climb from sea level to that height where only the most important people go when they die. Up James to 4th, then over to Marion. Up from there to 6th, then up Cherry to 7th. Back over to Marion all the way to Seafirst bank. From there the hills are not as steep and they are farther in between. Nonstop and amidst afternoon traffic. I felt so fucking great. Invincible.