I'm sure those of you who went to the International Bicycle Film Festival kick off party last night and saw Bostonbiker also saw my hat on his head.
The picture above is the hat; although of course, you'll have to drop by the BFF to check out what's underneath that brim.
And if you're checking out the BFF this weekend, you'll probably even see me around. Except, yeah, you probably won't know it's me.
So maybe this whole idea was a bit like communist China.
Good in theory but didn't exactly work out as planned in practice.
I think my last two free hats are going out tomorrow...but that doesn't mean they won't be available anymore. People have expressed interest in getting a hat but I just can't seem to reach those people through a system of random distribution.
Which is why, like China, I just might be going capitalist. It seems like a fairly good system, you know, trading green sheets of paper with dead presidents on them for a handmade hat. Fully lined. Finished by hand. You'll want one, trust me. Sold on the idea yet?
If not, well, maybe you'll just have to see one for yourself. I've bribed someone to wear an s-class hat at the International Bicycle Film Festival. Apparently he'll be there all weekend. And if you see something you like, well, I like dead presidents.
Re-runs are great; there are some shows you can watch over and over and over again. And on those days you can barely drag yourself out of bed, starving but too hung over to actually make anything to eat, the warm glow of Law and Order marathons are God's gift to the now-latent raging alcoholic in you. They justify sitting on the couch all day. With a beer.
But you know, it sucks when your life becomes one.
Because while mindlessly watching TV re-runs at least gives you the pretense that you're doing something productive, that's not really the case when it's applied to your life. You just become something boring to look at, because nothing else is around, or something only tolerated because flipping through the channels is too much of an effort.
Which is kind of how I've been feeling lately. Cut, sew, finish, drop off, blog, silence, repeat. For some reason, Boston just doesn't seem to like my hats. And for some reason, people in other cities do. I've been putting off making hats for friends in other cities ("yeah, sure, after I finish these three hats I want to give out..."), and have had the word "commission" tossed my way (whatever that means). So for all the friends I've been neglecting, and to all the people who have asked for a hat...well, something seems to be in the works.
But Boston, what gives?
A visit to NYC, deadlines, and a promisingly huge project. Those are my excuses of the day.
I have to admit, I'm excited about this project. Not the hats - that's something small and personal (at least for now). But there's something big starting up and it's right down my alley. Yesterday couldn't have been better with emails going back and forth and things being pushed forward. I might become part of something much bigger, and it feels good to know you're useful and part of the team.
And it didn't even rain on my way home.
So today, it's easier to forget that to some people, I'm just not visually interesting enough to spark a sense of curiosity. And I almost don't care that people need to judge everyone else without taking the time to learn the most obvious things about them. Chalk it up to their own insecurities; I'd like to think I'm not boring enough to merit a label.
On a more relevant note, I haven't given out any hats in about a week. I know. But I'm settling down in front of the sewing machine again; there's new fabric to be cut and sewn and hats, hats, hats.
Stay tuned!
One reason why I hate public transportation. Or more accurately, one reason I need a bike friday.
And while even my own mental image of myself riding around on a folding bike is absurd, I still would have rocked that thing all over NYC yesterday when, after waiting 10-15 minutes for the 6 train, the metro employee decided to tell a handful of those who asked that the 6 "wasn't running."
(At least I got to go to the Museum of Sex.)
Which brings me to Bike Friday. The one in Beantown that started at the masochistic hour of "before 7am" and promised a police escort to government center. And free breakfast.
It was probably the latter that had me shooting down my usual commute to work to meet up with a convoy in the sticky heat. It was totally worth it. The police made corkscrews at every intersection, and for once, I rode in without anyone trying to kill me, honking at me to move into the door zone of parked cars, or feeling the need to race that one guy who thinks he's faster than me but isn't.
And, you know, there was free breakfast.
Hopefully I'll be leaving hats around at the next one...