Reading comics.

I've been living in Madison for over three months now--Madison, one of the most bicycle-friendly cities in the US--and only today did I go for my first bike ride. It was nice. Short, but nice. I didn't wear a helmet, which was stupid and reckless of me, and in exchange I
wore a baseball cap, which is exactly the way my last major bike wreck came about (reaching to stop my cap from blowing away). I didn't crash, today. Today I rode my bike to the library to feed my newest habit, which is reading. I checked out three books: a collection of stories by Capote, and two graphic novels. I sat at a bench on the edge of Lake Monona and started reading one of the graphic novels, but after a while I was cold, so I went home to finish it. It was a big disappointment, especially coming from one of my favorite authors. I won't name the book or the author, but maybe you can guess. The second graphic novel was a waste of time. I won't name the book or the author because I can't be bothered to check. It was so bad. But who am I to criticize any published graphic novelist? They've accomplish something that I probably never will, and that's not me being pessimistic, that's just the likely truth. I can hardly finish my monthly comic strip by deadline.