The other day I was talking about how I would have been hosed if I'd flown East for Christmas, because of the storms in Denver, and Rachel commented that even if I got stuck in the airport, I probably would have been the happiest person there, since my superpower is to feel more or less comfortable and at home anywhere. That's mostly true, as long as I'm not cold and hungry.

I rode my boss's Kawasaki Ninja ZX-6E from the shop today. No wonder people crash those sorts of bikes: it's the difference between a Civic and a Porsche. There's no "power band", only power, anywhere you want it, with just a few millimeters of throttle travel. I got used to it, but I only rode in straight lines, and I think it would be really problematic for me in the twisties, where I'm focused on technical stuff like entry speed and lines of travel. Having all that speed would just be one more thing to pay attention to and keep under control. A friend of mine wants to sell me her Ninja 650, which isn't a superbike, just a modern, peppier version of my Ninja 250. I may go for it, because she's taken meticulous care of it as the only owner, and has some really nice accessories for it, like a comfortable seat and locking trunk, so depending on the highway wind noise, it'd be suitable for taking trips on. People do tour on Ninja 250s, but I'd have to shell out some money to get it ready, and even then I'm not excited about mechanical reliability, even though I've had no trouble with it. The 650 would also come with a set of rashed-up plastics, perfect for doing a track day.

Through an ex-girlfriend, I let myself get roped in to running lights and sound for Gonzo, a one-man show about Hunter S. Thompson. I could have said no, but in truth I didn't have anything planned for most of the Fridays and Saturdays this month, and I already spend plenty of time doing nothing, so doing something sounded like a good idea; and I like helping theater happen, and their lives will be easier, and the show will be better, if they have a smart/reliable/experienced pair of hands working the controls. I met them at dress rehearsal on Thursday, and last night was the first time I'd seen the second half of the show. We're nudging the show into professionalism, and it's neat to see the actor develop and solidify the performance.

So last night I got The Look from a girl helping with the show. The Look is that spark of notice or interest when your eyes meet. Not too long ago, this meant "Sure Thing"; but as we've all gotten older and found deeper emotional effects from sex, and wanted different things from our relationships, we can now get The Look and still shut things down later in the process.

I'd planned to email this girl later, when I'm not sick and I've had a chance to do some work and stabilize this new phase. It may well turn out to be the wrong thing for me right now, because for the first time in a while (or ever, really) I feel like I have work to do on my own and I'm happy with that. But tonight at intermission she beckoned me over to where she was tending bar, and said, "Could I ask you out on a date sometime?". Which is awfully sweet; I'm not sure anyone's ever said that to me, since as a guy, it's typically my responsibility to get things moving.

How could I resist? I'm not that much of a monk.