awesome discount jetpack adventures and French Canadian crust punk clowns

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I had a jetpack.

It was rad.

I was rocketing around the city, going from one place to another, just enjoying the commute in a way that for once did not involve reading a novel, oggling a pretty lady commuter, or playing a game on my cellphone. All those things are lame compared to the thrill of absolute freedom of movement (within three dimensions, at least). Continue reading

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homemade rocketeer gear for pillow, elves and a monorail

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I was in a basement that resembled the WWII bomb shelter of a basement we had in Germany, this ugly neon-lit white concrete cave with lumpy walls and some furniture here and there. People kept coming through and I was lying on a couch, trying to sleep. Perhaps there was a party upstairs? I get the impression now that some of them at least were older versions of kids I knew in Germany. One that I did recognize at the time was Lars. He came down all shirtless and sweaty and gross. I was curious about how his online dating experience was going and how things went with that girl he had dated, but I don’t think I asked. I think it’s possible he had a kid with him, like he was maybe dating some woman who had kids. Continue reading