I split my days between sitting on the couch reading eighteenth-century British literature and flogging myself on my bicycle.
Both endeavors are marked by a characteristic kind of masochism I suppose.
Lately, I've been frighteningly domestic. Anyone want some peach cobbler?
I like: coffee, veganism, cyclocross, knitting, avocados, knee warmers, lentils, bicycles with one gear, redheads, vaguely ironic New Hampshire pride, and hot new outfits.
I don't like: when people make me feel sad, identity politics, crappy weather, cars, republicans, overly stimulating myspace pages, and those ugly boots.
