I'm taking off early for a bike ride today. It's sunny and not freezing. Gotta get it in when I can. I wanted to add a few things before I go. There were one, no, two strikes against the Bush administration today!
This was sent along in an email list i'm on. Read it.
By Robert Fisk in Baghdad
17 December 2003: (The Independent) While Washington and London were stillcongratulating themselves on the capture of Saddam Hussein, US troops haveshot dead at least 18 Iraqis in the streets of three major cities in the country.
Dramatic videotape from the city of Ramadi 75 miles west of Baghdad showedunarmed supporters of Saddam Hussein being gunned down in semi-darkness asthey fled from Americans troops. Eleven of the 18 dead were killed by the Americans in Samarra to the north of Baghdad.
All the killings came during demonstrations by Sunni Muslims against theAmerican seizure of Saddam, protests that started near Samarra on Mondayevening. The first demonstrators blocked roads north of Baghdad when armed men appeared alongside civilians who believed - initially - that US forces had arrested one of Saddam's doubles rather than the ex-dictator of Iraq. But their jubilation turned to fury when the Americans opened fire in Samarra a few hours later.
As usual, the American military claimed that all 18 dead were "insurgents" and that US forces had come under fire in all three cities. But this is what they claimed in Samarra just over two weeks ago when they boasted they had shot 54 "terrorists". Journalists investigating the killings concluded then that while US forces in the city had been ambushed while taking currency notes to two banks in the city, the only victims of American gunfire that could be confirmed were nine civilians, one of them a child, another an Iranian pilgrim.
US forces said yesterday that they were ambushed in Samarra again on Monday, this time by guerrillas who released pigeons to signal to comrades that a US patrol was in range. Two gunmen who opened fire on troops with rocket-propelled grenades, the Americans claimed, took cover among children leaving a school. The soldiers, the US authorities said, "suppressed enemy fire and hit no civilian", an odd statement since no one had suggested civilians were wounded. An American company commander in Samarra later said 11 "insurgents" had been killed although he provided no proof. During the last gun battle in the city, not a single guerrilla's body was found.
In Fallujah, the scene of the other mass killing, of five Iraqi men, pro-Saddam demonstrators stormed into the pro-American mayor's office and forced the American-paid policemen inside to flee for their lives. Two Abrams tanks, Bradley troop carriers and hundreds of American troops moved towards the building which is supposed to be controlled by soldiers of the 82nd Airborne. Airborne troops maintain rooftop positions only 200 metres from the mayor's building but there was no indication last night if they participated in the killings.
The Americans were yesterday trying to smother news of the deaths with further statements about the capture of Saddam. After journalists were taken in circumstances of great secrecy to Baghdad airport for "a story you won't be sorry to cover", General Richard Myers, chairman of the US Joint Chiefs of Staff, admitted it would take "some time" before there were any military effects of Saddam's arrest. "When you take this leader, who is (sic) at one time a very popular leader in this region, and you find him in a hole in the ground, that's a pretty powerful statement that you're on the wrong team."
This kind of statement, however, could not obscure the continuing decline in security. In Mosul, for example, a policeman working for the American-organised local Iraqi security forces was killed and another wounded during a pro-Saddam demonstration. Further south, near Saddam's home town of Tikrit, a roadside bomb wounded three American soldiers, two of them seriously. Occupation security documents - which were not publicly released - show there have been 30 attacks on US forces around Baghdad alone in the past 24 hours.
A disturbing new phenomenon in this environment of growing military violence has been the appearance of hooded and masked gunmen - working for the Americans - on road checkpoints north of Baghdad. Five of them now check cars on the Tigris river bridge outside Samarra, apparently fearing their identities will be discovered if their faces are not concealed. They wear militia uniforms and, although they say they are part of the new American-backed "Iraqi Civil Defence Corps", they have neither badges of rank nor unit markings. The same hooded men are now appearing on the streets of Baghdad.
Copyright: The Independent
Friday, December 12, 2003
Stupid work. Gettin' in my way of riding. Stupid work. There was a break in the rain yesterday. I sat at my computer and looked at the blue sky for the better part of the day yesterdsy. I came within a hair (hair? what kind of hair? Shush!) of taking off for a few hours and putting in some warm daylight hours on the bike. But, nooo-ooooo-ooo. I had to finish some drafting and fax a client. Stupid work. Of course today, it's all gloomy and cloudy. Stupid work! Here is some info about my neck of the woods. Hell yea! I say if it burned leave it alone. We can pile up those logs and make stunts. I'm not a fan of logging.
I found too much shit on Soulseek this week. Some unreleased stuff. Cool. Watch it though, the RIAA has it's eye on you!
Mr. Drunk Cyclist (link at left) posted an email I sent him. I mispelled stuff. I'm a dork.
Wednesday, December 10, 2003
Well, it's pissin' down rain. At least it's above 32 degrees. Keep the ice on the East Coast please. I snuck a ride in yesterday before the rain moved up to our area. The last 20 minutes of the ride was mighty blustery. Finished just under the bell. Felt good to ride. Hurried and angry at near race pace. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, good lovin'. This just in from China. Cars good, bikes bad. This is not such a bad idea if everyone is in a compact car and they are crammed in there like clowns. Alas, reality is never as good as the ideal. Besides all the pollution that the article decries, I forsee overcrowding of the roads and more pedestrian deaths due to speeding cars. It's safer in America. Cyclists and pedestrians know they have no business going near the road.
Monday, December 8, 2003
Consafos
David Dondero
Azure Ray
Crooked Fingers
Arrival at the club was swiftly followed by a shot of Jaegermeister and a Spanish coffee. Then the first band went on. Some countryish stuff, some hard driving rhythms that I liked. The band was fronted by a librarian looking cutish girl with a bad haircut. They were good, but not very tight. Had a memorable sound.
I have one MP3 of David Dondero’s and was looking forward to him playing that song. He played it second. Erin and I saw him one Noise Pop festival some time ago, this year or last, it’s foggy. His set lasted for about 45 minutes. Two or three of his other songs I recognized. I dunno if it was from us seeing him previously or if I have heard his stuff elsewhere. Erin was having the same feeling. David played guitar, he had a drummer to his right who was standing up playing a very minimal drum set. There was another guy to his left playing… playing something, I don’t recall. This is maybe when I got my first whiskey sour. Mr. Dondero’s songs, I like very much. He has a rhythm to his vocals that remind me of Wilco. Some of his songs sound like early Wilco, but not a rip-off of the music. The song he closed with was about roads and how they were made and who made them. A tribute to the working man, etc. Sounded like some Uncle Tupelo stuff. I liked it too. Erin and I wanted to buy a David Dondero CD, but were sadly out of cash.
Azure Ray were louder than last time I saw them, and they were standing! Crooked Fingers backed them up. It seemed as though a lot of people were there to see Azure Ray. I like their music and enjoyed their set, though I found myself tiring some. And there was a blond girl behind me to the left that kept talking and angering me, tempting me to show her my evil side…..I did not.
Another shot of Jaeger and another Whisky Sour. Crooked Fingers came on with Azure Ray backing them. Crooked Fingers sounds fuller, deeper with Azure Ray filling in with vocals and instrumentation. They played three new songs, including the “Let’s not pretend to be new men,” where Eric gets to beat on the keyboards. Barton was in usual fashion freaking out on the guitar and upright bass. Eric Bachman is looking more and more like Joe Cocker when he plays. His legs were flailing around while he was playing the keyboards. Dov is a freak too. All those guys are amped on something, making them jerking lunatics. At one point the girls from Azure Ray shared the small keyboard seat and sang into the same microphone. Their faces were mere seconds away from a deep mouth kiss. If Eric planned this, I have to say, he is a genius. My mouth dropped along with that of the rest of the men in the club. My girlfriend asked me if I thought that the girls singing so close was contrived. My response was, “who cares.” Eric came up to sing the encore alone. The encore was the song where it goes “do do do do do do do” at the end. Off the first or second album. David Dondero, Dov, Barton and some other guy came up to sing the “do do do” part. Barton swung a microphone into the crowd and we all sang along. It was fun. There was no “Red Devil Dawn” song, but there was “Sunday Morning Coming Down.”
After the show I talked to Eric and Barton briefly. Eric said they were going to take about a year off of touring and he plans to write and record a new record. Joe will be back with the band after the gets the whole kid thing situated (Joe and his wife are having, or just had a kid in Atlanta). Barton is still limping after his wreck but is feeling much better. I suggested that he do a small tour in support of HIS music. He told me that I would be the only one at the show. Mebbe. Someone should put out his CD “Love and War.” It’s good.
Wednesday, November 19, 2003
Nostalgia’s a bitch. I just had the flow of memories from the bike shop business warm and chill me at the same time, tug on my heart and make it ache. The memory of the more simpler life… The smell of wooden floors and new tires. Fresh coffee and the cold air of the shop in a fall morning.
Tuesday, October 28, 2003
Work is still very crazy. I just wanted to add a link to this article. It's an opinion published in the economist.
Friday, October 24, 2003
Been busy at work this week. I've got lots of jobs piling up. Stuff that needs to be done. But, I havn’t been riding much this month either... my world is crumbling, I tell you, crumbling.
You hear about that guy that plunged himself off Niagara Falls? The guy was trying to commit suicide, but lived. If you believe in that kinda thing you might be thinking divine intervention.
I read this other cool article on the Guardian site. Homeless folks have made themselves a village on the outskirts of Portland, OR. They have rules, a governing body, etc. They are trying to renew the lease on their land so they can keep their community. I guess Mayor Katz is pretty supportive. That Portland, man, it's a great and creative place. When it's raining, not much else to do. Community development and heroin, that's what Portland means to me.
Ski swap tomorrow in Tahoe.
SYRCL party on Sunday.
Wednesday, October 22, 2003
A knife wound to the chest? Is that any way to commit suicide? According to Elliot Smith it is. I was very sad to hear this. I respected his music more than I liked it, and I quietly liked his music very much. RIP buddy. I'm sorry this life was too hard to bear.
I have more to add, but must get some work done first.
Tuesday, October 21, 2003
Where is the stuff I had posted you ask. Gone, I say. The host of this here blogsite has had some computer failures and it is gone. It may come back. Hopefully it will come back. Only time will tell.
Monday, October 6, 2003
I was listening to Ugly Casanova and googled the lyrics "Things I don't remember" and came across an "How indie are you" quiz. Here's the results:
i am a scenester!
How indie are you? test by ridethefader You are so indie it hurts. You hang out with the coolest people in your city. It doesn't even bother
you that none of them know your name. You know lots of bands personally, you know a couple of
guys from We Hate The Mainstream Records, and you blag your way into getting almost
everything for free. That fanzine you write gives you extra kudos. You probably don't
even care that non-scenesters think you're a pretentious fuck.
I don't think it's correct. Maybe it is.
Monday, October 6, 2003
Today, I am sad. My dad and my stepmom left today. They had been staying with us since last Tuesday. Just when I was getting used to them being around and sharing our little apartment with them, they left.
Monday, September 29, 2003
Saturday’s ride was six hours up in the Loch Leven Lakes area. A mix of fire roads, steep rocky drops, hikers and deer hunters (first day of deer season apparently). We saw lotsa guns on Saturday. The trails up there are amazingly difficult. Not only are there some super steep narrow rock chutes and drops, there are sections that cannot be cleaned without some finely honed trials skills. This ride was an upper body workout. Coming down the Loch Leven trail one lady asked us just how crazy we were. This was before I had seen the trail ahead. Later I understood why she asked us that question. Sadly, there was stuff we had to hike DOWN because it was so rocky that it couldn’t be ridden.
I had a “run in” with a hiker. In retrospect, I could have handled it better, but that is retrospect. Coming down the Loch Leven trail, John and I stopped for a bit. He got started and I waited a few moments to allow him to get ahead so that we wouldn’t bunch up in a technical section. I caught up with a female hiker. She was all geared up, boots, pack, extra clothing hanging off the pack, etc. Well, she was walking with her legs pretty far apart. She was stumbling more than she was walking it seems. Going very slow and uneasily. BTW, the trail is wide here, about four feet or so. I came up behind here, somewhat loudly, trying to make my bike loud and speaking to her. She didn’t flinch. I waited. Then started again and caught up with here again, making sound again. This time she turned her head a bit in my direction, but kept stumbling down the center of the trail. I asked her if I could get by, no response. At this point I was getting a little frustrated. True, hikers have the right of way. In reality about 98% of hikers step aside and let cyclists by, and sometimes watch us bounce down the trail. Well, she wasn’t into that. Again I waited. I saw a wide left hand turn up ahead. I caught up with her in the turn. She took the outside line, which was clean, leaving me the loose rocky inside line. I came up behind her and said, “I’m going to pass on your left.” At this, she started moving towards the middle of the trail (can you fucking believe that!!). Alright, she was either drunk, deaf, blind, has an inner ear infection or just hates cyclists. At this frustrated moment I was convinced that she hated cyclists. It would be the first time riding to get the cold shoulder from a hiker. I passed her on the left, then hit a nice root drop then busted a fat air off a roller, laid it over and landed sideways throwing up a beautiful rooster tail. That made me feel a touch better.
Monday, September 29, 2003
This is another good reason that some Christians scare me. I reaped this rather tasty link from DrunkCyclist (this website contains nudity so view at your discression and probably not at work, huh?).
Wednesday, September 24, 2003
Erin and I celebrated our seventh anniversary this past weekend. We have never celebrated an anniversary before, our first celebration. We did some sunset viewing and hiking at Point Reyes. Some eating and drinking at Millennium and some arting at SF MOMA. It was a very good time. Very romantic. Very “special.” I haven’t written about that part of my life, my romantic life here because I don’t think it’s appropriate. That stuff, I think, would be better suited for a diary or for scrapbooking. (BTW, if I ever start scrapbooking, please hold my head underwater for a minimum of five minutes, or as long as it takes for me to stop breathing. K? Thanks.) So, you won’t find me sharing that part of my life here, you will just find some ranting, some reviews, some bitching and whining too. My apologies to my significant other for not gilding our love-life here. I love you and won’t live without you.
Wednesday, September 24, 2003
Tuesday ride: Round Mountain. Through the dead (red leaves) and dying (green and yellow leaves) poison oak to the river to rinse off the urishol oil (the stuff that makes your skin boil). Sunset. Climb up Purdon Road in the dusk becoming dark. Chug a chug a chug a-I think I can I think I can…
We didn’t run into many cars going up. One passed going our way. Maybe two coming down the hill. At the top, on the pavement, between sections of gravel we met some more cars. We’ve got a few reflectors and a little red blinky light on the back of my pack. One car passes, then another right afterwards. (Strange to see so many cars, so close together.) Then another car. Well, that one’s not passing, it’s parked. (Hi, and thank you for blinding me with your headlights.) (What’s that buzzing sound?) The car is parked in the middle of the road. Nice. I, untrusting, give her room and head over to the shoulder. When I get about 10 feet from her she says “watch out for the snake.” Ok, great, I’ll look for the snake. (probably a garter snake) (what’s that buzzing sound?)
So, it’s 7:40 pm, give or take. The sun has been setting at 7:20 maybe 7:30, we are on the east side of some hills, it’s dark. We can still see where the road is but can’t tell where the ruts and stutter bumps are. It’s dark.
Black object five feet in front. What is that? Three feet. It’s moving. One foot, that buzzing? Right next to me, about a foot to the right of my crank arm. HOLY SHIT! That “snake” is a fucking rattlesnake, slithering across the road one foot from biting me. What the fuck. Thanks for your help lady! Bitch. Did she expect me to ride right next to her car. Did she expect me to see the snake, to read her mind and understand it was a rattle snake. I appreciate your help lady. Thanks for putting my life in danger. I hope to return the favor some day.
Wednesday, September 17, 2003
After what was apparently a rough day yesterday, I found myself in bed at 9:45 last night. Good thing too, the client meeting this morning at 8:30 am lasted almost four hours. In my sleep I dreamed of our downstairs neighbor, Arturo, some high school friends and the new “comments” section on this here blog. I dreamt that the comments section worked. I’ll be damned, they do work. Thank, somebody, for small digital miracles. There was something about Arturo asking me to get him some prescription drugs, like a contraceptive and some other thing. Not sure what that was about. I was trying to get this stuff at Ingles, a grocery store I worked at when I was 16. Jeff and Eddie (the high school buds) were there. Later, in Toxaway we (the collective we of me and Flick from TONC and I don’t know who else) went mountain biking on some wooden stunts by the road. I got some good rest. Actually woke up refreshed. Though, on the way to work, listening to some song of AOL’s “White Trash Heroes” melancholy crept in. Now, I’m just fucking fried after that meeting.
Tuesday, September 16, 2003
Someone special suggested I put in the option to add comments. From what I have read, it's going to take a couple of hours to go into effect. Maybe around 4 pm West Coast time.
Friday, September 12, 2003
I posted this on a thread over at Dirt Rag.
I grew up in the mountains. I hunted all kinds of furry and feathered things. I had the assorted accessories, such as knives, guns and dogs. Good times. My goal was to be that kid in where the Red Fern Grows.... and so on and so forth and then now and others...
Now, I'm about 7 1/2 years into the vegan thing. It all started when I started mountain biking. Started really exercising for the first time in my life. All of a sudden my body said, hey man, you don't want that meat. ('course it could have been the mushrooms, not the biking) Then a few months later, while eating a quesadilla, I got half way through it and said woah. That thing is gross. Ok, that's enough. And about five months later (I had a really hard time getting off donuts from the Safeway bakery) I did the vegan thing.
I started racing two years ago. I have done pretty well. I've gotten blood tests every now and again to make sure i'm doing things right. So far so good. The downside is when I go out to places with people, there usually aren't many food options. But, because the universe is right, I usually have the option of fries and good beer. So that makes things equal.
And, in regards to the soapbox thing. It takes quite a bit of resolve and self determination to be vegetarian or vegan. Few people see this or even consider rewarding your efforts. Many times, the motivation for the 'task at hand' (ie. the vegan lifestyle) is reading more, learning more, encouraging yourself more. That leads to a whole heap of knowledge that's gotta come out somehow. Nowadays, if people ask me why I do the vegan thing, I warn them, do you really want to get into this? It could take a while.
After some searching, I found the race results. I did better than I thought. There were 84 entrants, only 78 finished, I got 19th. So, that means top 1/4. Not too bad. There is also a picture
of me. I am the second guy from the left.
Wednesday, September 10, 2003
It’s Wednesday afternoon and the race has been over for four days. It was a good race. I had mucho fun. It was not nearly as dusty as I had feared. On parts of the course it’s hard to pay attention and focus because the views are so damn nice.
My plan was to drive up early Saturday, race and then hang out and party and drink a lot. There was free shit-kicking music and I brought a fifth of cheap whiskey with me. (the kids that work in the office with me are listening to Nintendo music) The last time I raced Downieville I managed to show up late. After my start late. They took pity on me and allowed me to race anyway. I was racing Sport, yet I ended up starting after the Beginners. I passed most of the Beginners on the climb and caught up with the Sports as we started dropping.
So as to not bore you with details, I’ll skip some stuff. I showed up late again. Again, they took pity on my ass and let me race. I started at the back of the Sport class, my class. The first three miles of the climb are middle ring. The second three are granny gear. Somewhere along this climb my heart rate reached 196. That’s no false reading. I felt it in my chest. It was like a hummingbird jacked up on coke running on a hamster wheel. I didn’t get as nervous as I probably should have. The rest went ok. Started dropping, baby heads, fire road, singletrack, switchbacks, bridges and such. Some dude went down right in front of me at a little apex in the trail. It was all I could to do to not run over his hand, wheel and head, in that order. I got (unofficially, waiting for Willy to post the results still) 19 out of 68. Respectable. More than that, it gave me a better idea of how much I need to train if I want to win. So, after the race I went to the river and washed off the dust. Got a beer and downed it as soon as I could. I got some food and another beer about an hour later and had trouble getting that second beer down. I was tired, coughing up dust phlem and was starting to think I might not be able to drink like I had hoped.
I took pictures of the river jump. I’ll see if I can get some of those up somehow. Long story short. I drove home to recoup and hang with the old lady. Yes, Erin, you. The drive back, I was tired but looking forward to spending time with Erin, because we havn’t spent a lot of time together in the past few weeks. Every chance I’ve had I’ve been on the bike preparing for this race.
It’s a weird think. For along time, I’ve had grand visions of me drinking, doing drugs and partying. My move to New Mexico was supposed to be the time I set aside to get hooked on drugs and then get off them. Did a few drugs but not as much as I had hoped. And, then again this past Saturday, I had hoped to drink a bunch and could barely get two beers down. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME? I guess I’m just not as bad ass as I wish is was. I would love to put a sticker on my truck that says “poseur.”
Thursday, September 4, 2003
Let me write about dreams today. Not about the dreams we had as kids, such as eating the worlds biggest crayon, or make that pretty girl that didn’t talk to, fall in love with you. I’m talking about night time dreams. The kind where you get shot in the head and there’s just too much blood, or you end up in that mall and your favorite band is playing. Those kinda dreams. I suppose there is a kind of dream memory because that mall I mentioned, I’ve been there more than once in my dream time. The mall does not exist in real life, well, that I’ve ever visited.
I am racing the Downieville Classic this Saturday. It’s a big race for me. I have only done two other races this year and am putting a good amount of pressure on myself to do well at this one. So, the stress and worry surfaced last night in my dream. I was racing. It was at a race course I had been to before once, in my dreams. Again, revisiting the constructed reality of dream time. The details such as it was partially indoors, stairs were part of the course, etc., is not important. I just find it interesting that I / we create these places in our dreams that we can visit more than once. We can find them comfortable, stressful or perplexing. My race course is a somewhat surreal, more like juxtaposed, place that is a combination of places I’ve been, thins I’ve seen on TV and photos I’ve seen in magazines.
As I get closer to the race, I’m curious how that will play out in my dreams. Wish me luck.
Wednesday, August 20, 2003
For fuck’s sake. I can ride fast with a bear behind me.
Tuesday afternoons I lead a mountain bike ride. Sometimes people don’t show up to join me. Sometimes I ride anyway, sometimes I don’t. Last night no one showed and I decided to ride anyway. The Downieville Classic is coming up and I am trying to prepare for it. I decided to escape the heat and drive up Hwy 20 to ride Pioneer and Burlington. Rode from just below White Cloud to Skillman. Then took Burlington Ridge road to the Secret Squirrel Trail. Skipped that and rode the fire road to where it intersects Secret Squirrel. Went down to the intersection with Narrow Guage and took that. I have been having some problems with my brakes. The front brake throw set-screw keeps backing out and as a result when I pull my brake lever it comes back to he bar. I have been taking an allen wrench with me to fix it. So, I decided to stop and fix it because I was doing some technical descending and knew more was coming. Busted it out and fixed it. When I went to put it back I heard something rustling in the woods just down the hill from the old flume below me. Sounded like a big grouse, maybe a deer walking, hell, maybe even a bear. I decided to wait and be quiet and get a glimse of it. The flume is about 15 feet below the trail and the top of the flume creates a horizon line, beyond that is just a dense forest of trees. Pine needles and madrone leaves on the ground. Some small brush, including manzanita. It is about 7:15 at this point, on an East facing hillside that is getting pretty dark. Well, I heard it walking left of me and just below the horizon line. About 15 feet to the left of me it popped up at the flume. Weren’t no fucking deer. 250 pound, easy, brown bear. (I had been resting for about 5 minutes and my heart rate had probably dropped to about 90. It shot up!) Cool, I thought. Big I thought. I’m alone I thought. Difficult miles away from a forest service road. Miles further to Hwy 20. I think to myself “I can create a magic moment when the bear and I look at each other in the eyes and…. well, then again it just might just decide to maul me.” I think, I’ll go. I clip my camelback on, as I turn around to get on the bike the bear swings it’s head in my direction. I don’t bother to stick around to see how it looks at me or which way it decides to go. The next few miles of trail are technical. Some big root drops, (did I mention they are big?) some long very loose and steep descents, some log crossings, a couple hike-a-bike ups. I rode that section fast. Now, let’s think about this for a minute. Yes, I am going to ride fast because the bejezus has been scared out of me. I am going to push myself. This is not the type of instance where a mistake can be made. So, let’s review. Riding fast, very fast, faster than, say, race pace, and not allowed to make a mistake. Because if I make a mistake, I’ll just be mauled. That’s just good clean fun! The rest of the way back, up the fire road, back Burlington Ridge road and down Pioneer, I kept looking over my shoulder for that big brown mass of fur to follow me.
Tuesday, August 19, 2003
Oh, and I stare out the window of my office. It looks so pleasant out there. Fall is coming. The maple leaves are starting to turn. The sides of the road are littered with madrone leaves. There is a coolness in the morning, not yet crisp. There are ripe blackberries everywhere. The trails are getting dustier, anticipating the autumn rains. The days are shorter and the rides have to be adjusted so we don't finish in the dark. Thoughts turn to how to spend the dark fall evenings. Romance and reading come to mind. Maybe shop for some new long clothes to stay warm. Buy a book or two. Maybe even plan some long distance trips, nearby or continents far off. Groove with the deep sounds of music and be lulled to silence...
Monday, August 11, 2003
TUIO is down today. That's okay, cause I forgot the setlist from Saturday night anyway. Yep, was down in San Francisco Saturday night to see Crooked Fingers and the Tindersticks. CF rocked! The show was at Bimbo's 365 Club. Swanky joint. Valet in the bathroom, ice in the urinals. Two drink minimum. Eric B. looked a little out of place wearing a wife beater. Met this nice couple from the Bay area 'burbs. The man, Marvin, grabbed me the CF setlist. Very nice thing for him to do, I thought.
Tuesday, August 5, 2003
Saturday: I rained all day. An August rain out here is a record breaker. It has not done that in all the time that they have been recording such events (the 1950's). It reminded me of the east coast summers. Very nice. I had a long ride planned and cancelled it because of the rain. Bad for that day, but knocked the dust down on the trails. Good for them.
Sunday: Erin and I hiked up at Grouse Ridge Lakes area for about 6 1/2 hours. Very nice day. Cloudy, a bit breezy. Water droplets standing on the lupine. Very pretty. Not many hikers up there, which I think is unusual. It was hard to be hiking it when it was in such prime bike riding condition.
Monday: Was not good. After spending the previous day in the woods, it was very hard to be back in an office. Made me all grumpy and pissy. Rode with the TOUR kids, well, not THE Tour kids, but the TOUR group ride. A short 1 hour road loop. I was hoping for more. Instead, I got home early, did some cleaning, shaved my head, ate a salad.
If you like Will Oldham / Bonnie Billy / Palace, etc.. He is doing a web diary for his upcoming tour with Bjork. Sometimes I find him understandable and other times he is completely unintelligible.
Crooked Fingers this Saturday. Eddie and Steph from North Carolina too. I'm excited to see them. Maybe Rocky and his lady will even be able to tolerate my presence, who knows.
Been doing some e-searchin for grad schools // architecture and planning.
Friday, August 1, 2003
Well it only took five days for the noose of real life and work to tighten around my neck enough to constrict the flow of happiness. The brightspot of yesterday was a short rain. I think the last time it rained was in may. It smelled so sweet. But, of course, I awoke nostalgiac. Which makes me short of breath and removed. Eyes half glazed, nothing in focus. I'll see if I can recover from this by Monday.
Tuesday, July 29, 2003
Alright, we got back Sunday afternoon. The trip was good. We rode about 200 miles, climbed about 20k feet. Big rides. We drank a buncha beer. That was good too. My only complaints were that it was a touch too hot, and too smoky in Oakridge. Other than that, a huge success. Coming back to work was the worst. My preference to do long rides everyday. Anybody wanna sponsor me? I'll give more info and ride details in the coming days.
Bob Hope died.
I picked up a couple cd's and had some bootlegs sent to me. I'll get to those soon too.
Hole in the Ground is now free of snow, got rained on this past week so should be ripe. I'm going to see if I can get two laps on that sucker this Saturday. An early start will be required. 108 is Sacramento today. That is fucking hot. Hot up here too. TTFN
Monday, July 21, 2003
Day 5 of the now dubbed Tour de Oregon.
Yea, since we have internet acces at the Coffeehouse we have been following the Tour de France every morning. Rather dramatic. We have been comparing our feats of cycling greatness to those guys leuisurely pedaling in the Pyrenees.
Yesterday was a recovery ride. So we only did 25 miles of dirt. I think it was about 1600 feet of climbing. Middle fork of the Willamette river trail. Just a few switchbacks. Overall the trail was pretty technical. Lots of rocky sections, rooty sectins, some nice whoop jumps. Very twisty. Some dry sections, but for the mostpart it was loamy and sticky. Beautiful old growth. Some huge rockfaces covered in moss and ferns. Fallen trees cascading down the face of it. Very magical. Or, as Tod said, it reminded him of Rivendell. And then, there were some folk camped right on the trail with their big rv and their 10 or so viscious little fucking terriors. When we went through the first time the barked at us and one bit Tod's ankle. On the way back they chased us again and one of those little fuckers bit my shoe. I came very close to getting off my bike and kicking them into the trees. But, I was afraid that I would be dragged down like in a sea of Piranhas. After the ride we went down to the river and washed ourselves with the shampoo I happened to have with me. Th only soap that has come in contace with me since Thursday night. Oooooooooooooh, weeeeeeeeeeee, smell me now. Post ride dinner was the Mexican joint in town.
Today is a rest day. We are running some errands for David and Becky (the owners of the Coffeehouse). We are going to the tofu and tempeh factory for them. Sounds kinda cool. I'm excited. Much more fun than going to the slaughterhouse. Tonight we head for Portland. Jesse is turning 32 today, so we go there to help him celebrate. Off for good food and the cosmopolitan section of the trip. Oh, yea, more riding too.
Saturday, July 19, 2003
Day 2.
Hardesty trail.
Day started at 9am. Slowly found my way to the Coffehouse after talking to David and Yuba. Got some orange juice to help me wake up. Eventually asked for a tofu scramble. Very good, kinda curried. Then worked on the bike, forever. Ajusted the front brake, computer, hub. Then on to the tight bottom bracket. Well, no, it's not the bottom bracket. Rear hub? Rear freewheel? No. Sealed derailleur pulley. You ever rebuild one of those? Closest bike shop is 45 minutes away, one direction. I pretty much rebuilt it. Took along time. It works, for now.
Then about 3pm. Off to the river to wash some of the grime off. Showered on thursday night, now it's Satruday. Then to Hardesty trail. 1/2 mile of road. 9 miles and 2800 feet of climbing later, we ar at the top. Then down. Drop. Fast, flowing. tight, rocky, root drops. Big trees, big ferns, oxalis, red columbine, twin flower, lillies, maple, indian paintbrush. Lush. Green. Beautiful. Then a trail intersection. More trail with more climbing or road / railroad tracks. Trail! Fast, flowing, floating, coming down is some of the corners to make the bike turn. All I can say is FLOW. Then Brute climbs, switchbacks. Pain, anger, super high heartrate. A big 30 foot long downed log with the top shaved off so that it was flat. Rode up to it, hopped up on it, rode it. Never got the opportunity to see that it was about 12 feet off the ground. Tod got a picture. Good trials stuff. Then the final section of trail, the ferns, thimbleberry and others whipped our legs, cut us, beat us. And, it was over. I almost wretched when I calmed down, back at the truck. Another dip in the river and dinner at TrailHead Coffeehouse. Tonight we must rest.
Friday, July 18, 2003
My father-in-law (future, potential... whatever) says that god (uncapitalized on purpose) first spoke to him through a soft wind when he was high in the Sierras. When i'm on the trail, in the woods, in the mountains, they speak to me. The trees, the plants, the rocks, the water. Once I heard trees laughing at me. Not sure why. Didn't get the joke, wasn't feeling very Zen that day I guess. I listen and I hear, but there is no god speaking to me.
anyway..
Day 2 -
Oakridge, Oregon. Alright, I thought I lived in a hick town. I grew up in a hick town, but this place takes the cake, or shall I say the 'Moon Pie.' Lots of the mountains have been shaved clean, harvested for their wood. A light smoke, looks like haze/atmosphereic perspective kinda thing / hangs int he air. There is a big fire nearby. Where I am now... Trail Head Coffee house is an oasis. Very cool inside, kinda hippy painted, art hanging around, good beer and friggin tofu and tempeh. It's hard to believe this pond and palms exist. Very cool. The day consisted of another long drive up I-5. Thankfully I was sleeping. Then we arrived after eating some chcolate cookies and a penut butter and banana sandwich. The ride was another single speed ride. Another gruesome, very long, pavement and gravel road climb. Hour and a half maybe. Maybe 2. Friggin' long. The views were good. Hazy. Views of clearcuts. That's what I always hated about the Northwest. Fantastic views interrupted by clearcuts. Damn YOU and your paper consumtion! So then we drop the 6 mile trail. Larrison Creek trail. Rocky, rooty, skinny, overgrown, unridable switchbacks. Thiis kinda shit is why I am here. Fuck yea! Took a nice spill, powered the single speed up some short rooty climbs. Didn't even attempt some of the creek crossings. Tod and I both took a spill at the same exact time at one of those unridable switchbacks. I recover, look downtrail where Tod is, and see him immersed in broken braches and ferns too. It was the Mountain Dew commercial they don't show. Then back to the Coffee House for some curry dinner and beers. Chitchattin with some locals, some fella from Portland. Meeting good folks. Is nice. Then maybe, tomorrow, if I recover, the Hardesty Trail. Maybe Tod will remember his camera and Cytomax;)
Updated 06/05/03
Trade - List
Archers of Loaf - MSN On Air
Archers of Loaf – Chapel Hill, August 1992
Archers of Loaf – Cicero’s – St. Louis – April 14, 1995 Black Heart Procession - 10/10/02 Captol Garage (peaks) Califone - 06/16/00 Satyricon, OR
Califone - 05/23/01 “Burning Hair” Bottom of the Hill
Califone - 3/16/02 All Tomorrow's Parties - Royce Hall UCLA
Califone - 3/17/02 St. Patrick’s Day Bottom of the Hill
Califone - ?/?/02 Podewil, Berlin (2 disc)
Califone - "knub u knive"
Califone - 11/08/02 Catacombs, Coffeehouse, WI
Califone - 03/14/03 Fillmore, CA (on it's way)
Califone - 04/21/03 Middle East, Mass. Canyon - 05/23/01 Bottom of the Hill Crooked Fingers - 04/03/00 Crocodile Café, Seattle
Crooked Fingers - ?/?/01 Bottom of the Hill, San Francisco
Crooked Fingers - 03/02/01 “Were Whores” Café Du Nord, SF
Crooked Fingers – 05/23/02 Bottom of the Hill, San Fancisco
Crooked Fingers - 01/24/03 Live on KEXP
Crooked Fingers – 02/19/03 – Café Du Nord, San Francisco
Crooked Fingers – 02/22/03 – Capitol Garage, Sacramento John Doe - 02/19/03 Café Du Nord, San Francisco
Neil Michael Haggerty - 03/17/02 Bottom of the Hill Danielle Howle - 05/18/02 Capital Garage Damien Jurado - 05/22/02 Capital Garage
Damien Jurado – 11/06/02 True Love Coffee House (peaks) Little Wings - Grass Valley, CA Pedro the Lion - 05/22/02 Capital Garage Pete Krebs - 10/11/02 Old Ironsides Songs: Ohia - 11/06/02 True Love Coffee House (peaks) Uncle Tupelo – Mississippi Nights
Thursday, June 5, 2003
I saw some video clips of a surf video that Kelly Slater produced, Jack Johnson did the music for. It almost brought me to tears seeing those fellows carve up their waves. They are living deeply. Shortly after that I was listening to the song "Angels And Fuselage" by the Drive By Truckers, soulful southern rock at it's raw finest.
I then started thinking back to my earlier days when we would sit around and watch bike videos. We would ride, a lot. Drink and party some. Didn't have much money because we didn't work much.
I'm remembering those days fondly today. Maybe it's all the sun, all the good trails, my lack for hardcore riding and partying buddies, who knows. I have a (pretty much) 9 to 5 job nowadays. I wonder if it's worth it. (yes, if you didn't know, I definitely have that streak of surf(bike in this case)bum in me. I have been trying to suppress it for a while.... is my 9to5 crushing my soul, killing my drive, bleeding my passion?
Wednesday, June 4, 2003
You know that moment right after your journey into the woods becomes epic, your mind starts to wander, starts to be uncertain that everyone in your party will make it back…
Yesterday we rode the new section of Pioneer Trail to the Spaulding Lake Trail. On the weekends you will sometimes see hikers on the trail, maybe, just maybe a cyclist. But on a Tuesday afternoon it is quiet, desolate, empty of people. There were four of us that started together. After 2 miles one peeled off when she decided the trail was too difficult for her. So we picked up the pace and pedaled hard up the grueling shale-y climb. You know you are working hard when you get a breathing cramp in your side. Every time we stopped, waiting for the slower of the group we would get surrounded by mosquitoes (the bitches!). Swarming, drawing blood, inflicting pain and injury. The turnaround point was a meadow by Fordyce Creek. The Creek is very high. Out of it’s normal banks, moving trees, moving boulders, screaming white sound. The rest stop was all of 3 minutes (1/2 a Clif Bar) because of the flying vampires. It was time to backtrack, through the winding singletrack, over the big boulders, through the streams, around the fallen trees, through the rockgardens. The expert racer in the group was gone. Spinning his legs out, he dropped us.
Psssssssssssssssssssssssssssssst. Awwww, fuck, pinchflat. No, no, the mosquitoes are going to tear me apart. Gotta hurry. Get the wheel off, pull out the tube, verify it was a pinch, grab the new tube, put it in, reseat the tire, start pumping. My companion decides that I’ve got everything under control and leaves, continues to ride anticipating I will catch up in no time. I run up and down the trail pumping the tire up, I’m running to try to get away from the mosquitoes, leading them on a chase, hoping they won’t have time to dig in. What? No. Did my pump just break? It did, WTF? Great I have 10 pounds of air in my tire. Let’s see? “Ride” (read walk the bike or damage and buy a new rear rim) the 3 miles down the rocky descent with lotsa switchbacks to the vehicles, no way I’ll catch the other guys who have pumps. Or hike the easy 1 1/2 to the road and ride the road to the cars. The shorter way! Walking at 3 1/2 miles per hour is not fast enough to keep the mosquitoes at bay. 4 1/2 is better, but very hard pushing the bike up loose, rocky slopes. Cross-training! I carry over the washout, through the brush, under the pipe, up the hill, hey, wait, isn’t this where I saw that bear last year? The other fellows don’t know I have decided to go this way. How will this end? Will I get to write this tomorrow? At the to of the hill, where I saw the bear last year, I see a couple, hiking. They are walking arm in arm and she is chatting away. I say “howdy” to them and she jumps, not expecting to see me. Well, that’s a good sign, people instead of big carnivores (I know, bears are omnivores, but carnivores is more dramatic, no?). Alright 1/2 mile to the pavement. I think I’ll be ok.
One minute I’m in the wilderness alone, fretting, wondering if I’m on the dinner menu… then, after seeing a coupla humans, I relax. I am reminded that we are the ones on top here, well, here being near the roads and the reservoir. Only when I see that there is help from my ‘kind’ do I relax. I am not comfortable with the cocky assumption that “we are the ones on top here.”
Alternate ending: Seeing the humans gave me comfort. For years I felt more comfortable in the woods and it was people that I didn’t trust. It was the people, not the denizens of the forest, who I thought were unpredictable. Is this changing for me? Am I becoming more accustomed to people? Allowing myself to rely on them more? Yes, I have more questions than answers, but who doesn’t?
Monday, June 2, 2003
and… I’m back.
I survived another assault from Poison Oak. Evil stuff found it’s way into my pores again. Bubbled up on my knee and left me limping for a week. At night, I’d take off my sock and there would be an indent from it, because my leg was swollen. Awful, awful stuff. That miracle gel from Spring Hill Pharmacy worked well. Really speeded my healing. Felt good too when I applied it, all that alcohol in it, whooooowheeeee!
Started riding again after one week’s sabbatical (due to the poison oak). Felt like a week too. Hurt. Did the new section of Pioneer, from where Bowman Road crosses the South Yuba, up to the Spaulding Lake Trail. I think there are about 16 switchbacks in that section. It’s about 3 miles and 800 or so feet of climbing. Very rocky, shale and such. Pretty darn fun. Cut out a tree, left one because there is about 4 inches of trail next to it, where you can ride. Mosquitos were awful.
Woke up with “Up on Cripple Creek” in my head.
Saturday night, Erin and I went to a workmate of her’s BBQ. They went through the supreme effort of making vegan pasta salad, BBQ beans, and some other veggie dishes. I was very impressed, they put forth a tremendous amount of effort. And, it was very good. The beans did some royal damage, but they was good.
I’m out.
Tuesday, May 20, 2003
Raced Saturday, still waiting for the resuslts. Didn't win.
Updated trade list.
Wednesday, May 14, 2003
Did you vote for Bush? Is he giving YOU a tax break? A breakdown of who and who it doesn't help.
Oh my god! It has finally stopped raining. I thought I moved away from Oregon. WTF! Today and tomorrow of sun, then rain again. Un-fucking-believable. I rode in the rain and mud for 4 hours yesterday. Oh, it hailed for a little while too. I got up to about the snowline - about 4500ft. The streams were creeks. The trail was a streambed in places. Super wet. Super pretty. Tiny flowers in the rock garden on Pioneer Trail. Just freakin' gorgeous. Georgeous in that wet, semi-warm Northwest kinda way. I was crushed when I got home. Tired and beat. Erin told me how much she liked it when I was like this. Not too much nervous energy. Relaxed, easy-going. Easy to talk to, easy to be around. So, from now on, I have to ride early Saturday, so we can have a good weekend, she said. ;) Works for me!
Updated trades too.
Monday, April 21, 2003
I read this awesome article in the new Backpacker magazine about living in harmony with bears, not the bulkmale kind, the ursa kind. These two people have been living in the way backcountry and fishing with bears, just everything. It's pretty amazing and quite brave. Check them out at
www.cloudline.org
I went to church on Sunday. Catholic Easter service. I dindn't grow up Catholic, I didn't grow up Christian even. I always to write god and christ in lowercase to identify my disconnect. Anyway, i was afraid that they were going to make me eat something, or throw water on me and it was going to burn. I was afraid they were going to say something about the war and I would have to storm out emabarassing the people I went with. Fortunately that didn't happen. But I did feel like I was in a foreign land with foreign people. I did it more as a service/out of respect for my 'future' father in law (yes, i am calling him that, i think it is probably appropriate, afterall he introduces me as his 'friend'). Didn't turn into a Catholic on Sunday. I am pretty critical of religion and Sunday was no different. I'm tired of writing... By the way i've decided this thing is no good if i'm worried that people will be offended by what i say, and therefore i am not going to censor myself... or i'll do the best i can not to.
Thursday, April 17, 2003
Cleaning. That is what I have been doing. Cleaning the apartment. Cleaning the deck. Cleaning the bikes. Cleaning out the clothes chest. Other people have been cleaning too. They cleaned out my bank account....and what have I gleaned?
I, after about a year, transferred a bunch of my old files off my 'Mac only' Zip discs and put them on PC readable cdr's. Wow, lots of stuff. Old pictures of my "art." Lamps, drawings, tables. I was pretty productive with that stuff at one point. Now, I have black and white drawings to share. Not as exciting. Doesn't show my creativity. Shows my 'technical' abilities. My ability to draw a box. My ability to be put in a box. My willingness to be a box. All those old drawings. They have sexy curves. Sexy colors. Motion. Flow. Tangible movement. Tangible pleasure to the eyes. but boxes? Orginazational skills. The ability to put something here, record where it is, cross reference it. That is something that will go on the resume.... the resume. always a work in progress. always updating. gotta keep up. gotta put out. gotta move on.
more later.
04/10/03
How about that war, huh? Such division among us. WTF. It seems like we are doing all we can to point out what is wrong with the 'other.' That helps America be strong. So, it's my turn, enough of that Beth Chapman B.S. I want a bumper sticker that says "You say Iraqi Freedom. I say Neo-Imperialism." I found some fun links, check 'em out.
I found this:
some good free mp3's. a gift from that blonde dude from sonic youth.
I went running this morning. that shit hurts man.
I plan to rectify any damage i did this morning by drinking a beer by the fine name of Kilt Lifter. That should do it.
Wednesday, April 2, 2003
It was occurring to your local vegan representative last night while brushing his vegan teeth. -A- A vegan. Is vegan. A or is? Do you know? Often when I hear the word 'vegan' spoken by a non-vegan, it is pre-empted by "A" or "the." When I hear that it makes me shiver just a bit, makes the little vegan hairs on my back stand at attention. I think it implies quite a bit and creates division. It is harder to relate to someone that is a vegan, than someone that is vegan. When I am that guy that is a vegan, i'm that guy people are worried about because he's not getting enough protein. That guy that eats weird things, that guy that "I could never be." When I am vegan... my daily practice is acknowledged, my striving for vegan perfection, the path to vegan, is appreciated. I am respected more as vegan. I am respected less as a vegan. So, next time your talking about that vegan kid, talk about him as that kid, who's vegan. An adjective, not a noun.
Updated 05/05/03
Trade - List
Archers of Loaf - MSN On Air
Archers of Loaf – Chapel Hill, August 1992
Archers of Loaf – Cicero’s – St. Louis – April 14, 1995 Black Heart Procession - 10/10/02 Captol Garage (peaks) Califone - 05/23/01 “Burning Hair” Bottom of the Hill
Califone - 3/16/02 All Tomorrow's Parties - Royce Hall UCLA
Califone - 3/17/02 St. Patrick’s Day Bottom of the Hill
Califone - ?/?/02 Podewil, Berlin (2 disc)
Califone - "knub u knive"
Califone - 04/21/03 Middle East, Mass. Canyon - 05/23/01 Bottom of the Hill Crooked Fingers - 04/03/00 Crocodile Café, Seattle
Crooked Fingers - ?/?/01 Bottom of the Hill, San Francisco
Crooked Fingers - 03/02/01 “Were Whores” Café Du Nord, SF
Crooked Fingers – 05/23/02 Bottom of the Hill, San Fancisco
Crooked Fingers - 01/24/03 Live on KEXP
Crooked Fingers – 02/19/03 – Café Du Nord, San Francisco
Crooked Fingers – 02/22/03 – Capitol Garage, Sacramento John Doe - 02/19/03 Café Du Nord, San Francisco
Neil Michael Haggerty - 03/17/02 Bottom of the Hill Danielle Howle - 05/18/02 Capital Garage Damien Jurado - 05/22/02 Capital Garage
Damien Jurado – 11/06/02 True Love Coffee House (peaks) Little Wings - Grass Valley, CA Pedro the Lion - 05/22/02 Capital Garage Pete Krebs - 10/11/02 Old Ironsides Songs: Ohia - 11/06/02 True Love Coffee House (peaks) Uncle Tupelo – Mississippi Nights
Amateur veganboy websblog.
We'll start today.
We'll see where this goes.
We'll see how much I can screw up.
We'll see how much I can screw off.
Space provided by Pitas.com
E-mail: voodoohorizon at hotmail dot com
