missed, again, annoying to forget, to falter, to skip a beat, when trying so hard to keep up that cadence, the coxswain in my mind lost her voice, and a day is lost, gone, no longer available, but of course there are ways to fake it, but won't. I see the bikers, and get jealous, and miss the riding, only two days hence, the purposeful, the determined, while I wait, with the huddled masses, for the next bus, with a chance to stand, or sit, but guess what, it doesn't take longer, it's actually much shorter, and I get some reading done. biting the bullet, accepting the purchased obsolescence, no longer technocrastinating (see post by The_Steve), and going for it, sitting next to one on the bus, and hoping the writing will continue with a method and the means to do so. Always connected in a text based world where EDGE is enough.