Well I'm more or less finally moved in to my relative's house in Minnesota. It's a nice house at the end of a pretty street, in a well groomed neighborhood, within easy distance from downtown Minneapolis. My aunt and grandfather are renovating the basement so my aunt can move in also and sell her house as my grandfather is getting very old and soon will be unable to care for himself. He has given me this place to live while I work towards getting my GED and hopefully get some kind of job. Right now I have no income, no insurance of any kind, no cellphone or internet of my own. This Monday I start taking classes. I have to make what little funds I have last indefinitely, as I am not getting my hope up on finding a job this year. I still have a personal loan to pay off regularly through my bank for the purpose of establishing a line of credit. and as soon as I can find out where to go for it, I'm getting some kind of food assistance.

Today (yesterday) I was in a good mood so I rode my bike (which is my primary mode of transportation) downtown to the Gay 90's bar on Hennepin avenue and naturally locked my bike up, the only place nearby being across the street from the main entrance. My first look inside the place was a subdued bar so I had a seat and had a drink, inquiring about the place and learning there were in fact several bars spread throughout the place, and starting at ten o clock there is a drag show every Saturday upstairs from the "men's room bar".

So upstairs I went, at just after 9. An impressive stage and seating with tables and chairs surrounding the stage. I looked out the window as I got up the stairs to see my bike still locked up across the street. I got one more drink and sat down for the fabulous show which was quite spectacular and worth making noise and giving a little extra to the Devas on stage. I stayed for a few rounds of performances consisting of a couple of songs each, and I must say they were gorgeous dancers and performers.

After a while which must have been about midnight I decided to call it a night and headed back downstairs to leave. I made my way across the street and found to my unpleasant surprise that my bike was not at all where I had left it. There was a patrolman stationed at the corner and I notified him I needed to report my bike stolen and he directed me around the corner to the precinct station, where I gave my information to the front desk officer. After leaving there I walked home, ten miles on the main bike trail for most of the way wearing shoes that are not meant for walking, as they are the kind with the clips attached to the bottoms. Ten miles approximately, in just a little more than three hours.

My bike was a Surly Long Haul Trucker, dark green color with several accessories, all together worth about 1500 dollars, including when I had the bike fitted for me before I relocated. I was planning on having this bike for a very long time and keeping it in top condition.