It’s like going to the zoo. There’s all the important markings—flannel, tattoos, fire, a ‘friend’s band,’ the Internet, ‘custom’ bikes, fixed gears, bike messengering as a personal statement and not a job,”a $150 chain”, and hip hair. Judge Judy puts some fashion zombies in their place.
That first evening in middle August, where the air is just a touch crisper and cooler, and the sunlight slants in from an angle just a couple more degrees acute, always reminds me of this song and, specifically, this video. The brief sequence from .56 to .59 always made me wanna get a drum set, pack it out to some glen somewhere, and whale on the things as the moon came up and the critters came out. Yeah – weird, but I was 16 at the time. Weirder is that I still get that. And how could I not? It’s a great image – breath coalescing with air as the moon sits high in the ink of the night. So good. The best stuff goes down when the sun does. We all know this.
Anyway – a great song for any season, but especially one for the onset of Autumn, when you take a look around and go, ‘Is this really what I want to be doing? What’s the plan? What’s the point? Where does that highway lead to? This is not my beautiful house, this is not my beautiful wife!’
I think its a hallmark ingrained from that collective experience where we all used to head back to school every September. When you’re there, it sure sucks, but years later you might look back and actually miss the simplicity and the ease of it all. You just went to school. Now? Betterment is in your own hands. No one is going to make you learn something new, or motivate you to run some laps, or read an extra chapter.
We’re now each our own blame for lost chances or that gradual slide to ‘not bad’. There’s a weight in that and a responsibility. But also a pretty tremendous opportunity, even if it’s not the easiest thing in the world to take action about.
So, yeah, Talk Talk. The vid is disabled for embedding, but a click away. And worth it.
Fabian Cancellara won the Tour of Flanders and Paris Roubaix in such powerful and convincing fashion this year that there was an insane rumor going around that he had an electric motor built into the bicycle. Really. People said this. “Mechanical doping”, they’ve called it. Riiiiiight. And it wasn’t just Tom ‘Montoya’ Boonen, the guy Cancellara rode away from. (Boonen never said this, by the way).
But, honestly, what else would you expect from a 185 pound diesel engine nicknamed Spartacus? He’s the current World Time Trail and Olympic Time Trial Champion for a reason – because he can ride away, on occasion, and in suitable conditions, from the best guys in the world just like he had a freaking motor in the bicycle.
But, of course, Fabian doesn’t have a motor in the bicycle. He’s just going for it. And he’s a mutant. And cuts the heads off chickens before every race. Or has some other superstitions that he follows, anyway.
Cycling tradition is that if you get the number 13, you pin it upside down. Cancellara did in the 2006 Tour de France prologue, and won it, taking the Yellow Jersey as race leader as a result. Looks like pretty good luck to me. Or maybe it’s his legs?
Gettin’ up early in the mornin’ and going riding, actually. Tonight’s mission was fast and furious, like this song. I charged a quick 16k lap at the secret spot and was cleaned up and enjoying a delicious Pilsner by 9:30. Didn’t see the cougar tonight, but I had spidey senses blowing up all over the place when I came around the corner where he last was. I think we have an understanding – I’ll ride polite and respect the forest, and he’ll not eat my face off. I hope.
Early AFI was pretty rad and not emo at all and they sang about stuff that really mattered to people – like cereal and what kind to eat. Take it deep – poignant stuff.
“Breakfast cereal, make it sweet, that’s the only kind I’ll eat, gimmee sugar not nuts and twigs do I look like a fucking squirrel to you?”
I wanted a Nada Surf t-shirt but they are a bitch to find. Luckily, some guy in Quebec was looking to climb out of debt the slow way and was selling one for a couple of bucks. I’m pretty sure this shirt is from the 2005 ‘Stars’ album, for obvious reasons, and that would mean that this garment had spent the better part of five years on the back of that French dude. Does that bother me? Not in the least. Does it bother some people I know? Yes.
I wore it for the entire long weekend in a blatant attempt to override the smell of Jacques with my own.
The best part about buying a 5 year old used t-shirt from a guy in Quebec for $1.99 plus shipping is the fact that it was THE ONLY THING HE WAS SELLING. After E-Bay fees I’m betting he took home around $1.85. Hope he spends it well.
Sure, why not. The best part is changing out of your cycling costume and into normal clothes, then hitting the ‘ol Safeway on the way home ’cause you’re starving and that takes precedence over any fretting about showcasing your mud splattered legs, and the exact geometry left behind after the removal of said tall socks, in the produce isle. Cyclocrossers out there will recognize the irony of the fact that, in the fall, you get the exact opposite effect when you peel off your woolie knickers and get to stand there in the parking lot with a white, bare ass and gray, mud colored ankles.