Dirty Nails, Dirty Wheels

A tad bit earlier today, I had a great moment:  it hurt to stand up, and I was like Why am I sore today?  Which is to say being sore was no surprise, but I didn’t immediately remember what I’d done yesterday that made me sore.  Over the past few weeks, I’ve played grownup dodgeball at full blast for two hours, leaving me fuckin’ wrecked for the subsequent couple days; gone snowboarding for the first time (“like paying somebody forty dollars to kick your ass”); been to a moshy concert (Flogging Molly); and I think some other stuff too, maybe.  Last night was a three (or maybe more) hour skateventure with this guy where we explored the river and the nasty-rich Pearl district, traveling approximately six and three quarters miles by my estimate (with lots of good breaks to look at the river and stuff).

I’m doing things I like so often that I wasn’t surprised to be sore, I just wondered what caused it.  Nice.

On 11 March, these fine folks are playing the Roseland here in Portland.  I am amped as fuck for what I imagine will be the funnest pit since I Rum Rebellion played an Occupy benefit a while back.

Flogging Molly, May The Living Be Dead (In Our Wake).