look, ma… no hands

April 4th, 2003

Such an out-pouring! Feel not unlike Ms. Sally Field at 1985 Oscars. You like me. You really like me!

After mulling over details of current situation, and having received following email from V. Calm Brother Figure,

I’m so sorry. I don’t want you to give up the blog. That’s one of the reasons I didn’t want to tell you that I found it, was because I knew that once it lost its anonymity, that it would lose its reason to exist. I did not go into the archives, and I will not go onto the site at all again. Honest. I’m sorry.

have decided to stay put. For now, anyway.

Those who claim that with J being gone, the reason for this site has also been lost, are missing the point entirely. J was one bicycle. One with busted spokes and a wobbly back tire, to be sure. Certainly, that’s not the best This Fish can hope for! True, would not have started this project without the inspiration (?) of J’s antics, but the good lord knows, J was not the only proverbial knot this writing therapy has helped to untie. The UMF will still be fucking crazy; SAS will still be full of teen angst; Reluctant Kitten will still be testing abilities of kitten mothering; and there will be bicycles. Lots of bicycles. Perhaps not Indie Rock Boy (though, am beginning to wear down own anti-colleague canoodling rules), but there will be another. And although months and months of J-riding lessons have prepared yours truly to shed obnoxious training wheels, certainly haven’t grasped all the rules of the road.

So, until This Fish is collected enough not to deluge herself with this sort of day-to-day ridiculous drama, why deprive folks who need it for entertainment value?

Training wheels no more, am still riding — but not off into the sunset.

Look, ma… no hands!

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