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One Little Sparrow

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Cannondale Bad Boy 3 - Review (2 months later)

"hey try riding a bicycle to work, but your job is to carry a Glock 17 at the DMV! 🤣🤣🤣" --- Here's the quick stats: Expected basic maintenance costs $138.90 / year or 22 cents a mile Expected amortized hard costs $110.65 / year or 18 cents a mile Combined costs: $249.55 / year or 40 cents a mile --- I've had two flats in two months. ($5.95 * 2 = $11.90) * 6 = $71.40/year I've lubed up my bike, including to get rid of the annoying squeak that is common on the BB3 three times. Lube costs $30 for ~8 applications ($30 / 8) = $3.75 * (3 * 6) = $67.50 / year A lot of bicycle equipment I already had on hand from my Nishiki: Foot air pump - $36.99 Hand air pump - $14.99 U lock - $70.95 Multitool - $19.99 Tire levers - $4.50 Adapters - $7.83 (i got mire free from the nice guys at redacted ) Microfiber cloths - $14.99 Helmet - $35.99 Shoe rain covers - $74.99 1800 lumen light - $169.99 Motorcycle gloves - $26.99 Disposable gloves - $13.25 Then there'

The China Shop

Is it possible to be God and conscious? If people give you power, is it even possible for you to be awake? Explore these questions in this story. photo from Pexels by artist Maria Orlova join my mailing list | connect - share - support | Joshua Brown The holidays were upon us, there were no more people that cared about them though. It was almost like a murky swampland of emotional discharacterization. People just didn't get political anymore. Or did they? I didn't care at least and my mind was fading away into a swampland of emotional discharacterization. My mind was flitting away. The birds were concerned. The holy land was discharged, no longer were any of those stupid relics necessary, nor were the priests and True Believers necessary. But this time we were not going to gain power. We were going to fade away into a dream state, an unconsciousness of the patriarchal revenge. Except there was no fucking revenge, it was just the return of nature and choice. I woke up and th

Sleeping Beauty

This is a story about space exploration, self-knowledge, bravery and community. photo from Pexels by artist Civan D get in on the mailing list action | connect - share - support | a short story by Joshua Brown --- I was on a spaceship, made of cotton candy. There were a few bites with that sticky sugar glossed impression shimmering back into the darkness all around, casting the rays of light criss-crossing the galaxy back in a multiplicity of new destinations, denying them their evolutionary fate, my will against theirs. There were carmel-filled chocolate bars sleeping on their way to some new fusion-massed star, bored of that existence they had lived in for who knows how many years. The gravity of my cotton candy ride imperceptibly adjusting their destination to escape velocity and complete atomic annihilation, sorry dude. I was on my way to a wall. It was a black wall. We knew it existed because of science. LOL, get a load of this, we KNOW it exists. And I was on my way there. I’m

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