Hey, It's Friday!

Not that that means anything to me, being unemployed and all. Anyway, I'm having a good day. Working on the new laptop and learning Windows 7. So far, it's very, very good. I'm suffering through installing my software and learning how the interface works.

I probably should go in the other room and pick up the classical guitar. I need to keep the old fingers limber for the gig next weekend. I think I've pissed off some people on Delcamp.net. It's a classical guitar players forum. Someone was bragging about the sense of accomplishment they felt from being able to tune their guitar without using an electronic tuner. I allowed as to how if you can't tune by ear, you probably shouldn't be calling yourself a musician. Well, that started a firestorm. Really.

Anyway, I have better things to do than to type today.

Back in the saddle

Wow. I've finally regained access to my blog after what? 3 years?

Not that anybody's interested or anything, but much has changed since my last posting. I'm no longer going to a jewelry store every damned day. Instead I go to college.

I'm still playing music every damned day. I sometimes get paid for it.

Just returned from a fantastic vacation in Oregon. It's the most beautiful place I've ever seen. When I'm more in the mood to write, I will.

I need sleep.

An Oasis

After a very lazy moring with an excellent breakfast, Y and I did the perquisite grooming duty and headed out to the Highlands to just stroll around and window shop.

We parked right in front of Guitar Emporium (which with great restraint, I avoided) and strolled down the east side of the block. We stopped in "Scorpio Interiors", which was filled with very nifty, very mod (some very moderately comfortable) furniture. We saw lots of stuff that would look great in here, but nothing we wanted to buy until the kids and the animals are gone.

We cruised further north on Bardstown Rd, and stopped in an antique-consignment shop, and a few odd retailers, running into K.S., and D.K., who were buying beads. Saw lots of folks on bikes, many with really big backpacks which seemed full. Hmmm.....

The high point of the day was the stop at Cumberland Brewing. We each had a glass of their "Nitro Porter". WOW! Meal in a glass. That wonderful breakfast had suddenly, and inexplicably worn off, and I was shaky and irritable. Goddammed good thing we stumbled across the brewpub. The porter was extremely fortifiying.

"A loaf of bread in a glass", the young barmaid intoned.

Too right. Brought home a growler and drank it.

Crap. It's after midnight. Well, actually if one takes into account the "Fall Back", it's only after 11. I have a 50 mile ride tomorrow. I'm sure I'll suffer, as I've had a few refreshing adult beverages. The only saving grace is that the ride will start an hour later. (According to my body clock)

Gods help me.

Back at it again

Drawn back into writing after 6 months away. Not like anyone reads my drivel, anyway. But it's like when I was in college learning to write music. I had a composition professor, Dr. Nelson Keyes. (God rest his soul) He used to tell me, "Just write. Write lots. It doesn't matter if it's good or bad, you're just shooting for volume now."

Well, here I am following Nelson's advice. My composing got better by "writing lots" I don't know if my literature will improve or not.

Looks like this one's going to be a short story.

Cheers.

There Was A Farmer, Had A Dog...

I used to be a pawnbroker. I got to see the gamut of human emotion, all of it revolving around money and possessions. I dispensed as much advice as I did money. It was like being the progeny of a banker and a bartender.

I've been thinking about that job a lot lately. Mainly about the things I saw that made me sad. Dirty looking, umkempt 30 something slack-jawed woman would come in with another dirty looking umkempt 30 something woman and a dejected looking child in tow, carrying a video game console. (This was a surprisingly common caravan.) As it played out, the first woman was invariably the mother of the dejected looking child, and she was there pawning her kid's fucking toys, so she could go to bingo.

We did a brisk business in used video game consoles. I guess bingo was unfriendly to those moms. I wanted to cry for the kids.

Of Barbecue and Ibuprofen

The Texas Sweet sauce at Vince Staten's is incredible. But what's a sauce without a finely cooked bony piece of meat to go with it? That was the best rack of ribs I've ever had. Best baked potato, too. The festival of flavors almost drowned out the panolpy of pain in my knees and shoulders.

See, we sat down at Vince's about 15 minutes after finishing the 100 mile bike ride. It was a perfect day. Started out blue and brittle. Only con-trails and geese in the sky, our words disappearing in puffs of vapor around our heads.

Unlike last week, the bike FIT me yesterday. She did everything I asked her to do.

"C'mon baby, lets crest this hill before my heart bursts."

"Lemme lean just a little further into this turn..."

"If you get me through these last two miles, I promise, I'll rub you down."

The first 25 miles spun by effortlessly. "Damn... quarter of the way done already!"
The next 25 were just as easy, as were the 25 after that. It was the last 10 that hurt.

River Road. Right shoulder burning so badly I wanted to bawl. Knees screaming in pain. Dump trucks and Harleys barreling by inches from my good shoulder. The fucking blue F350 diesel belching enough soot to warrant an EPA investigation. Did I mention that my knees hurt? And then, suddenly, there was the One Lane Bridge. I've come to love that little pockmarked wonder of engineering. Bumpy li'l bastard, but only a mile and a half from where the truck's parked.


I've finally done it.

I still owe the Nishiki a rubdown.

Countdown to Exhaustion

I should be resting with my feet up. I'm riding a century tomorrow. I'm a little nervous about it. A hundred miles... with a bike stuck up my ass... and I've barely turned a crank all week. I guess I could call it my "taper" week, but that makes it seem like I'm taking it much too seriously.

At the beginning of the season, I was quite serious about it. Watched what I ate, made sure to do my intervals, base miles, hill work... But as Autumn approached, I started easing up. Eating cake, drinking coke (I still haven't had a Big Mac for months, though) Riding fewer, but longer rides. And now, here I sit with my stomach in knots.

I hope my brain hears a new song tomorrow. Last week, everytime I'd slip into a zone, "It's Raining Men" kept running through my mind. Jesus Christ...how friggin' gay (not that there's anything wrong with that). It got to the point that at mile 50, I had to force a new song in. Maybe in a future post I'll clue you in on what it was. Needless to say, it wasn't a pleasant ride, coupled with the crash and Holthaus' problem with his knee.

I ride a bike because it's fun. Yeah, it's great that I can fit into my pants again. (I actually need some new ones that are smaller in the waist) Yeah, it's great that I regularly drop Holhaus on climbs. Yeah, it's great that I've developed the discipline to "train" for a long ride, but goddammit, this is supposed to be fun. Training rides are most definitely not fun. Fuck it... tomorrow is gonna be a blast. I don't care what comes up. I'm gonna have fun, like it or not. Even if I have to manually change the channel on the radio in my mind.

Snake Eyes

A love song of sorts which I wrote some 10 years ago.


Shell-shocked by keepsakes of pain I'm tethered to you
By chains at the heart you're rooted to me
Naked and wild-eyed we tread on the heels of love
Seeking the beast in ourselves or only seeing the eye of the storm
Still to come

Stock still, you try to run from me
Like lovers in the stories no place for us to be
Merely shadows at high noon with the sun behind a cloud
Our story's surely written with chalk on a petal
Or a funeral shroud

Blinded by passion, hoodwinked by lust
We tread the great unknown
I blaze trails, you burn bridges
We dance like fireflies
The shadows we create obscure the ones we've cast
We've cast the mold, the dice are cast
Snake eyes.
No chance to roll again