Seasonal Affective (Dis)Order

The winter has left me on an island, marooned all by myself.

I'm rolling along the streets of the 'Heights and its lows. Nothing is 'normal' about it. Cold, bitter cold air tonight. Had to bust out some gloves to keep my hands from freezing. I'm watching clouds pass overhead from the recent storm; so much goddamn rain. It rained for days, nonstop sheets of liquid cold sheerness. I thought it would never end. Kept me inside and isolated, but aided me in fostering this image.

Adams Ave is dark and quiet once the bars let out. In the whir of cold wind I glance down an alleyway; a feral cat strolls on his hunt like a seasoned warrior. He's missing an eye. He has scars throughout his coarse fur and his ears are loaded with holes and nicks from last night's rumble. His survival has proven he's ready for anything the world might throw at him.

The passing street lamps sizzle and fade into discs resembling distant stars as I turn the corner to Park Boulevard. I feel the isolation. I feel the alcohol rolling off the ghosts of the sidewalks, sensing the pulse of the lifeless streets.

I'm falling so far inside myself that the feeling reflects; I turn into the most pathetic, lonely, miserable character the world has to offer...but only for a moment, only at this time of night, do I feel like a phantom.

Summer brings back thoughts of a girl and a house. If I could choose to construct an afterlife for myself I'd reach out and grab that moment from the year.

I leave this thought at the next stoplight, cars are coming...so I say, "Fuck it" out loud and pedal through the crosswalk, gliding to the sloped curb. I stand up on the bike, absorbing the shock in my knees I know the rims cannot bear.

She is a very fragile creature.

Tweed Ride 2010

Tweed Ride 2010 was awesome!

December 11th -

Got up early on Saturday and went out for a quiet ride. I was returning home when I noticed the bike mob rolling opposite my way on Park Blvd. I immediately got cries to, "Come on over!" and "Ride with us!"

I flipped a bitch and ended up rolling through the streets of San Diego with all my fellow Bicycle cultists and the feeling was great. It's amazing how much power there is in numbers and for a short time Saturday afternoon, the streets were ours.

The journey was a 12.6 mile trip through City Heights, beginning and ending at Velo Cult's shop on Fern St in Golden Hills. I had never been to the shop, never met any of the folks there but they really, really loved Tasty.

I received pointers regarding bike safety and repairs as well as stories regarding other people and their bikes.

It was a nice warm day in December as we cruised through Balboa Park into Hillcrest and eventually crossed the Washington St Bridge on it's anniversary that day; 1910.

Awesome vibes! Will most defiantly have to do this again next year! A big thank you to everyone!

Jackass

Acceptance this year...and maybe something more.

I accept there are certain things I can/can't do, things I am tasked with that I know I can never accomplish. No fatalism; NO in fact, this year has been quite an amazing experience.

It seemed summertime was full of a kind of hazy bliss, a time to reflect, discover some new qualities and elements in my own life from the life of others.

Now things have transformed. I've learned to stop chasing cats. Maybe it is time to start focusing on myself...perhaps I was too willing to be there, without first conquering my own mind, problems, goals, etc.

I think my sub-enlightenment reached its zenith sometime back then, in August.

Yet still I draw a blank page...there's nothing here; whiteout conditions. The page blisters my skin as I try to muster a few short words through whatever blizzard occupies this space. So I need to fill a page with a few blank words, need to flush something out...

It's bleak. Someone is looking up at me, a girl, noticing I'm 'here' but I'm not there. I'm tempted to give an answer that shows she only got part of what I was asking. A day with modifiers and exquisite adjectives...self describing, self serving words to describe these words...

The language of her textbook is confusing her, as she stares vaguely at the pages and away from me, wondering what the world would be like if she had superpowers. I wonder what it would be like to sail the open sea.

I’m rubbing my chin down staring up at the popcorn-sealing thinking about its noise-reducing properties…a sigh of release spreads out in the walls and over me, a warm blanket under which to foster some ideas...

The reluctant I staggers on for a minute in this conversation we are having; horrible music is pounding away at the pavement and in the colors of the background. Synesthesia, for short. An entire underground history is holding this story together, if you could say this is any story at all. Nope. No story. No birth or death of anything beautiful, nothing outlandishly tragic…just you, fingers...and you brain.

Hello brain! Augmenter of my dreams, my imagination, my culmination of hopes, the harbinger of ME... which as of now, is running on worn-out bearings; puffing fumes with an intake manifold clogged with pumice... and all the bullshit of the world.

Hold that thought, while I switch out the coffee filter.

Ultimately, I think I need new space, new skin in which to slither around in.

"Every time I see an adult on a bicycle, I no longer despair for the future of the human race."

- H. G. Wells

Goodnight My Someone

Haven't been blogging much lately. I think I've needed some time to reprise this cadence cadenza...

Today I moved about the sleepy Sunday streets of San Diego. I slept in all day, woke up late around 4:30pm. The light was fading as soon as I took to the streets. My priorities have been shot for the day.

Fall is setting in. It's an electric experience. The combination of warm days, cool evenings and the brisk air adds a tingle through my central nervous system as I swoop around my route through the metropolis.

Today I feel that there is an endocrinology of elation and despair, a chemistry of mystical insight, and; in life and our relation to the universe, an astrophysics of changing moods.

Time and again we’re faced with the parable of existing as humans, coping with the might of the forces around us…and I see civilization and modernity collapse into a sort of escapism. This idea is symbolically reinforced in the steel frame of this bicycle; the feeling, more than the idea in some ways, of going somewhere, of "getting away." It is in escapism that we begin to lose ourselves; a reminder by the nature which had us as we are; many things today for myself remain aloof.

I miss someone intensely. She's very far away, I may have screwed things up...

But maybe this is the fuel for the fires of a literary motif of something grand, a book, a collection of writings, sketches, and examples entitled, "Blue Machine." It will be the focus of an intense, ongoing project.

Blue Machine

The title of my new book project/collective writings...


'Comic sands grazed his eyes. The evening sounded the myriad of conversations as the 'civilized' world hummed and whistled around in broken glasses and neon signs as drunks fumbled for the keys to their easy rides. With caution guided by the invisible things he cruised like a missile torn through the skies of Fallujah on a hot summer night in the midst of an metropolitan uprising...'

-Blue Machine, excerpt Ch ??

This is a work in progress. Unlike some of my other writings, I'm not too concerned about story, plot. This collection could weave in-and-out of the traffic of a novel, but no to be so convoluted and grounded in an actual story. Do I need a story? No. This is a collection of writing based solely around bicycling.

I'm thinking of getting some other folks involved, incorporating some photography or an art project involving an old road bike frame...

More soon.

Thou hast returned from the void of pavement and urban infrastructure! Damn it feels good to be back! Oh hello Cadence Cadenza!

Back on the bike. I spent the last couple of weeks working/hanging around an old house (not Michael Keenan's) making repairs, adding some step-stones in the front yard whilst really getting a taste for what it would be like if I was married and had a house of my own. 'Spiritual Camp 2010' so-to-speak. It was fun to be around my friend J, watching her as she worked on a few projects and participating in house-hold duties.

For those last few weeks in August, I felt completely alive. Something about hangin' out around old houses...man.


I cycled there everyday. Tasty holding true. I managed to bend the front rim ever so slightly while I was running an errand - I was getting burritos for myself and J and managed to nudge the bag (with burritos) between the front fork and rim. I must have bent it (and maybe some spokes) because now the wheel wobbles a hair.

Oh well...

Looking forward to many more nights of cycling bliss...stay tuned.

Fixed Stupidity

I have no idea why people ride fixed gear bicycles.

You can't coast on fixed gear. You are always pedaling and wasting energy. It sucks whether the ground is flat or when going uphill/downhill.

Fixed bikes are slower than a multi-speed or single speed bikes. There is a risk of the pedals making contact with the ground during high-speed cornering which could subsequently cause the rider to loose control of the machine.

The Fixed configuration is bad for a rider's knees: The resistance of the turning cranks greatly increases stress on the knees which some claim can lead to injury due to eccentric contraction of the knee muscles.

Probably my biggest issue with Fixed geared bikes is they are extremely dangerous. A rider MUST be able to stop when they NEED TO STOP. Hence, we have BRAKES.

That said, it makes no sense whatsoever to abandon safety for aesthetics. Fixies are incredible to look at...sure. Some have dazzling paint jobs, custom V-Wheels, etc...


Fixies: They are meant for closed circuit racing. There are few dangers on the track except other bicyclists. Not so for the urban or street environments where cars and people could shoot out of nowhere. As a bicyclist you become a hazard not only to others, but yourself as well.

Riding a Fixie is a death warrant; as is riding without a helmet. It's stupid...

Remember, safety first, kids.

Dating A Schwinn Traveler

After weeks of anguish and boredom, I finally have my blue, 12-speed baby back and in working order!

The bike is nowhere near cherry, but looks amazing with new 27" rims and low-profile Bontranger 27 1/8" Select B tires.

Now if the weather would only improve...feels like Portland in San Diego. It's July already!

Where the hell is the sun?!

Anyways, hoping on many future mystic nights with friends riding around town, if I can coral them together some hot summer night...the stuff of dreams!

Punctured bicycle, on a hillside desolate...

Managed to run over something nasty...a small (very sharp) piece of glass or metal. I thought it may have been a thorn, but when I pulled it out my tire gasped *poof.

So to date, I have a forced-fixed gear road bike with a flat front tire...

Life keeps getting better! :)

"Everything is everything," I thought. "And in this world, anyone is anyone."

Many mental pot-holes today. Riding this wobbly wheel leaves an uneasy feeling; like the wheel on which I now ride is slowly falling apart underneath me. Spokes, rim and tire. The whole fucking wheel. It's probably not safe. But I gotta hold on, and keep moving.


The town is packed to the gills with strange faces...I hate San Diego. A new start, something drastic; a cataclysmic geological event is in the works to get myself out of this place...

Nothing new. Haven't biked in a few days. Weather's been odd...and It's gonna be a real long time before Tasty is back up to speed. It sucks, but hoping this weekend will prove different.

A measly evening tonight...at least the mist was nice, feeling it mix and mingle with the sweat of my brow and fogging my vision...as well as rusting up the frame a bit. But as this old bike ages, like wine it only gets better with age.

Maybe it's time to buy new batteries for my headlight...seems a bit dim.

Here is what he felt:

A different kind of Cadence. Tonight a new pedal feel. High gear to low gear, shifting left and right uphill and downhill. More resistance than usual, but clearly enough. (whew!) The feeling of resistance against the pavement when transferred from feet to legs was intoxicating. Like solving a math problem; perfect cadence is plug-in and go, precise and rhythmic. You know when you have it right.

And now the evening divulges at Lestats, the local coffee house, except…there is no power. Total blackout. A return to the dark ages. Candlelight. An hour of romance behind the darkened screen of a silicon computer. No action. Just the sweet jazz and faces concentrated, fascinated by the tiny, eternal flames from lamps emitted by tea lights on the tables. Eerie, beautiful silence. Not unlike the silence of slipping through dark city streets on the heels of speed, that new cadence.

Okay. So. Here's the situation. I'm gonna need a new rear wheel and a new rear derailuer. We're looking at about $140 bucks to get Tasty back up to performance. Until next weekend, it looks like I'm riding a fixie...which I don't really like, but at least I can ride, a little.

1910 Pierce with a chainless drive system! The 'Kelly' handlebars swing around from a 'Cruise mode' to a 'Sport mode' for faster riding. It also features a hydraulic rear suspension. This bike was top of the line in 1910, a nice alternative for a citizen before cars took the mainstream. A true beauty, they don't make bikes like this anymore!

So I got my new front wheel today, thought, "Oh yeah, time for a great ride today!...." About halfway to dowtown, my brake cable snaps AND my pedal crank is loosened to the point of falling off. I take the cycle to the shop AGAIN, get that fixed, start riding home, and half-way home a spoke on my rear wheel snaps......

Today was definitely a one of those 'bad days' cycling...(no shit).

This is the price of having a vintage bike.

Man today is so nice...waiting till Monday now for the repairs to finish. Now it's just of matter of griding my teeth until I get a cycling fix.

San Diego's civil engineering isn't bicyclist friendly. The city's bicycle crowd is spotty...and with events such as Critical Mass...you either love it or hate it.

For starts, nothing beats the thrill of bicycling through downtown SD at night with a bunch of comrades. The group has an awesome message of but for the most part has turned into a big nuisance...

There are lots of BUI's going on, and there have been many incidents of bicyclists getting hurt, both from cars and each other.

I avoid CM like the plague. It's just not fun anymore and hasn't been for a while.

I enjoy going out on a single-run, maybe in the middle of the week really, really late at night. I've been looking for others to go ride with, but motivation and willingness to go the distance isn't some people's strong suits; strange, given a lot of bicyclists I know. I guess there really are 'recreational' bicyclists you see on the boardwalks at the beach and serious bicyclists who ride until where or who knows when.

I'd really like to meet a serious bicyclist with a vagina. I get nods for my having a vintage bike all the time, but it never seems to get me laid.

Bicycling, as life is; is time and space constantly in motion. You pass a stranger, another bicyclist, wave, nod, and that's all the time you get. Everyone is going somewhere, and then they disappear.

I've been breaking my old routes, exploring and taking new ones. Some nights the rides are beautiful, and others I wish I'd just stayed home.

A while back, I did encounter a bunch of riders playing Cycle Polo, I cruised over, joined the game and left happy.

I guess I just need someone who can keep up with me for those long hauls. If I meet a girl who can do that, than everything may be alright.

I have no bearings...

...when it comes to where I'm going/riding. I hop on and just GO...and that's what I love about riding a bicycle - The absolute freedom to go anywhere, unhindered by a tank of gas, or the burden of pollution.

This week however, faulty wheel bearings are proving to be a pain. Tasty is out of commission once again this weekend as I overhaul the front hub. I think she needs new bearings or she needs some lube...har har.

The problem could be more serious, it's possible the cones are fucked and pitted, in which case it may be difficult to track down cones for Araya rims from the mid-80's. But I'm no expert. Off to the bike shop!

Music is Essential

...although it's illegal to have headphones on if you're riding a bicycle; I have to forgo the law sometimes for the perfect mood when I go out for a ride. Here is my playlist from my iPod this past weekend. Enjoy.

Artist/Song


Autechre - Kalpo Intro
Gary Numan - Me! I Disconnect From You
Roni Size - Watching Windows (Ed Rush & Optical Remix)
On a Friday - Give It Up
Clint Mansell - TT r^2
Massive Attack - Black Milk
Infinite Number of Sounds - Exorcise w/o Air
Beck - Motorcade
Massive Attack - Group Four
Can - I'm So Green
Massive Attack - Heat Miser
Moby - Life's So Sweet
DJ Shadow - What Does Your Soul Look Like? (Pt. 1)
Fluke - O.K.
Massive Attack - Blue Lines
Sasha - Wavy Gravy
Stereolab - Interlock
Lo Fidelity All Stars - Battleflag
Bjork - Human Behaviour
Talking Heads - Sax and Violins
Radiohead - Talk Show Host
Tristeza - Utopian Bridge
Massive Attack - Risingson
New Order - Age of Consent
Radiohead - Climbing Up The Walls (Zero 7 Remix)
Gary Numan - Conversation
Taras van de Voorde - Lairze

New City

In the evening I have a compelling urge to just get outside. It's like an invisible force pulls me from the dormitory of my mind. I end up in the darkened city streets of some trip-hop induced fantasy that is both surreal and real at the same time. I get caught in the thin tailored strands of my thoughts while The Boulevard glows and hovers vividly in the late hours or urban decay.

The electric hum of transformers is like a transmission from another world in the vacant hours of the night; the hour when it's so dark out that only the cats become your companions. Everything is illuminated as I ride my bike through the shady parts of downtown; rustic-hidden passages and fog on the waterfront gather like pot smoke in the attic of memory.

A tower looms overhead like a majestic equestrian steed while I ride across a grand bridge into those colonial dreams unknown; traffic roars beneath, into a valley of construction, skyscrapers and sirens. It is all madness beyond compare. I’m stuck in the exposition of Horton’s New City, a city that doesn’t know what it wants to be; no true identity. Hazard’s ghost wanders here and not at his Plaza; like Charles Foster Kane in Xanadu; this place is a tomb capsule for him and so many others.

Some nights, my favorite things to do are just wandering from place to place, going to cafes, interacting with people, but mostly observing. I might dip into a club every so often to see all the creatures in motion, maybe dance a bit; receive a kiss from a municipal beauty. I trade in conversation with night-crawlers in pilgrimage of momentary ecstasy. When I go for a ride and descend from those Abnormal Heights, I feel good.

Tasty

People always wonder if I’m on something…

High, tweaking out, mentally disturbed,

…Or just pretty crazy.

What am I on?

I’m on an eighty-two twelve speed

Forty-One-Thirty tempered steel Schwinn.

Made in the USA

A pure racing machine,

Bontranger Pro Performance tires

With Araya rims balanced to perfection,

Made in Japan…

She is blue,

As blue as a California-summer sky,

Aged and oxidized in some parts,

Yet her figure is still as sexy as ever.

Little is required to get her in forward motion,

When she gets going,

She’s the one on top.

The pedals,

Pulling away,

Try desperatly to rejoin the back end of the rear-dérailleur’s mid-gear,

Which starts out at a very fast tempo,

That has stretched the shifter cables long and thin.

Her speed is relentless once I get her going…

When I first bought the bike,

A sticker which read;

‘Tasty’ in calligraphy,

Sprawled out over the seat cover…

While I took the sticker off…

The name stuck,

And after we went for a first ride,

I understand now why she earned the name,

Tasty.