Blank Generation

If I  belonged to a generation it would be the blank generation.   In '76 I was 14, the bicentennial, living in Columbus Oh.   still living in the analogue years.  The music, all over, I mean the new stuff, not one vein.  Each had their own sound.  Richard Hell, Televison, Blonde, Ramones, talking heads,  patti smith, Iggy, ....  they were far from blank

what got me thinking about this was Spooky XC phila. 2012 video, the song  Blank Generation,was used as parta the soundtrack.

if any time is gonna disappear, its ours, now.  the text, photos, fb post, blogs, we are gone, ain't no where for the digital statements to live and die.  Nothing for anybody in the future to dig up... to dig.

Its a gold age of the scrap heap,  bloated belly full trash pickings.  

another era called themselves the Blanks,  but they we'rnt so blank, nope, more dope.
today, by default we ourselves are the Blank Generation.

I'll take it.  For us.

Yesterday it did not rain, and there was no mud at HPXC,  I felt good, raced hard with my chin up.  With a bit of pep.  27th.  OK, so no longer 14th.  that's good.    somehow I walked away having a blast.  
Today as the storm rolls in,  I got out, for a walk.  

to the graveyard, where I wondered about thinking, in the strong blowing wind/rain.

someone left a bag of beers, some full, just cool enough to drink on the spot, I grabbed a couple,

cracked, and enjoyed my visit more.

I looked out over Manayunk, straight into the wind from up off the bluff.
You know, I'm going to have to do more than post some shit up on a blog, some pics up on FB.

Yep, I pulled up a bench here, to drink with my new friend.
why Bao?   maybe it was the PBR.

left for him, or maybe it was the view, of the tree.  I looked at the tree and thought of my wife.  The two parts separated, growing outta the same trunk, bending with the wind, apart, towards each other. 
The leaves falling off  their limbs.  The roots, the branches. 

I don't want this to be my stone.
no regrets.  cheers, dlowe.

oh, the photos today, they were taken with a old sony cybershot 6.0 mp pos camera, just goes to show ya.



The squeezing theorem is also called the sandwich theorem

I got a new camera, in the mail yesterday, so my canon t3i, which I will always adore, must be sold.   after months, days and hours of hovering my finger over the click button, I made the internet buy,  I pushed.

cross at Belmont today

I upgraded, not the full upgrade, but a step up, to a Canon 5d II,  got out with it a bit today.    I ripped open the box, plastic wrap, bubble wrap, charged the battery and spun a few dials, glanced a bit at how it functions, held it, just feeling the new shape in my hands.    I like that feeling, like on a ride with someone you don't know but you ride the same, but in a way still strange.     That, all these buttons, someday will be second nature.  That, we ride together again, and then its, I'll be there for you my friend.

I hit up a show tonight, Mono at Kungfu necktie.   I left early before the show was over.  I got bored.  They were bombastically simple.  Grand,  but just for a bit, then it became tedious.   I'm not sure what racing is going to be like tomorrow, whats going to come out of my legs.   Soon, I'll be in bed, soon I'll hear the rain pounding down on the roof.   HPXC is a bastard of a mud race.   I am going to suffer again.

Life is grand.  cheers, d.


the Dickens

went out on the cross bike today for a longer ride.   I rode up some of the power line trails, overgrown and steep.

this one drops me in behind the horse stables and rings that I sometimes throw into a ride.

My Grandmother Snider use to say that     "...blank.... scared the Dickens out of her...".

I never really put it together to mean really anything much, but a pleasant scare, with a bit of laughing at yourself mixed in.

and at this stable, there are a bunch of differnt pastures and horses,  a pond and a great side of a hill top view.

well a while ago I road up the steep drive, coasted to a quiet stop in the shade of a tree and propped my road shoe into the bottom board of the fence.  Just listening to music, watching the horses.

and I hear under the music, someone yelling at me, "you can't ride bicycles up here",  I ignore it, like I can't hear it.   but it insist of continuing.   I turned and pulled the ear buds.  The old women on a horse, 150 yards in the other field, yelled louder, "your bikes scaring the horses".  ???

I said to her, "oh I am?... I'm sorry, I was just enjoying the view".  I gave a hand to the brim of my helmet, and a slight tip, nod. Clipped in and pedaled away.

that has not stopped my from pedaling my bike up there every so often,  and I've been lucky enough to have some more interactions with the Old Horse Lady.

each time I act like I don't realize she is yelling at me, and each time I try to come up with something new.  "Oh I'm sorry Its such a pretty view, I couldn't help but stop."  and   "just had to stop, I love the smell of horses so much".    "its a bit hot out,  .....(drawn out pause)....  just needed a bit of a break in the shade".

there are a few teen girls that ride, I think they are a bit bored riding in the rings, and I don't think they take the horses out on the powerline trails,  much to missing out of some fun for the horses.  So I think the gals get a kick outta my antics.  I gotta find out the names of the horses.  next time the old lady yells it'd be nice to reply,  "oh just giving Sally a carrot".

I think horses have a bit of a sense of humor,  why else do we have the term Horsing Around?

Cheers!  d.


Monday- Henri Cartier-Bresson

ha, I fooled myself, Monday was just Monday, I left Sunday sitting in an office chair with a couple of empty beer bottles.

When I find things, like most people, I get so enthused, that I can't help but babble on about it.  I try to edit myself and maybe send out one maybe two emails announcing the new incredible influence in my life.   and this short documentary, it comes at a time, when I've been thinking about chance, and planning.  and giving yourself the opportunity to, to grab at it.   and I love the study, the little details.

for me, this is grand, in a lot of ways, of life.

I'm over yesterday,  I'll keep punching Joe, I'll keep slogging away, and learning the way I learn, and trying hard, maybe I'll finish every race the rest of my life in 14th place.  Fuckin' A,  that's still great.

Cheers!  d.


my friends sat in the back seat of my car, cold, squeezed in, amongst the extra wheels, tent, tools, trainer and my bag containing my kit, and leg warmers, knee warmers, arm warmers, .... etc....

and all my friends, they rattled like,  a cold case,  shivering like beer bottles.  Well, actually, they were beer bottles.

and I drove home with a scowl.

not cause the course sucked, nope good course,
that something on my bike decided to not operate right, It ran great.
just that I finished 14th, and that 14th was with a bit of luck, cause the pushy guy on the Mtbike donked it in a corner. 

why again 14th?

I've cut back on beer, and have tried to sleep a few more hours a night.  I don't know.

well.   What to do?   I did not take any pictures today, the camera bats are full, the card is empty, so down to see Father Misty.

1st, George stopped by unexpected, nice, hadn't talk in a bit, ended up taking my blinker and a couple of cold ones put into the paninos (panino - the pocket on the cycling jersey in which to carry your sandwich, or ipod, whatever fits).

and on my way to the show,  coming down Spring Garden street.  Two cars were bashed together, and some peeps were walking up to look in at the fresh wreck.  10 speeding cop cars came flying across the intersection, lights flashing.  Two more pulled up to the bashed vehicles.  My light turned green and I drove a couple of more blocks made a U-turn and a right on Percy.  I like to park across from the shooting range.

I have not been to a show, where a man, seemed to many, in the audience, to by possessed with such sex appeal.  and its been awhile, since I've seen a groupie, and the show  it sounded like the album.  With good bit of relaxed banter between songs.   It reminded me of a band that plays the big State Fairs, back in the old days.  I enjoyed.     Mr. Misty preformed.  I got back in my car.
and its Sunday night. Almost monday.

I'm not quite satisfied with today,  I, am not through with it.  and I think despite going to bed and waking up and it being Monday,  Sunday is still going to be with me.

Cheers, d.


happy w/home bound

I have a couple of friends, that I really don't see much at all.   Facebook keeps me in contact.

Today I got out on a nice simple cross ride, and made the time to take a few pictures, a beautiful day, that I would of missed if I didn't ride.
I like that my friends put up simple post of the things, that bring them  a bit of joy, they take a simple snap of, and post.

Its not a big deal, but I feel the connection,  my love of riding, includes my love at looking at the landscape I ride by.   The weather, seasons, night, day, wind, all make for different landscapes.

this is from Jack Herr, a golfer in San Fran:

and a work friend, with a passion for photography in Fla. a bit of a biker
I like when people show there passion, just simple, in a not bragging way.  its sorta sharing the experience, the joy, moment.  and I find it motivational to get out there for more myself.

cheers, d.


white's music

I've never been to the Tin Angel.  Its on the old punk rock club row, 2nd st, just south off of Market.
I've been to 100's of shows on this block, at the Khyber, and Upstairs at Nick's.  Good good shows.
after all these years, last night, I climbed the stairs up to the Tin,

Jim White "Angel-Land"  from the album "Wrong-Eyed Jesus"

to see Jim White, or the character of himself in this traveling 3 piece band.
2 guitars, bass.  + some loops and drum machine (simple sample, quality sound, not cheese).

a beat up broken in, comfortable backroom, green room,  the empty chair, where I suppose Jim sat thinking before the show.

a story teller, living the past out on the stage, polished grime and pain.   A nice dark humanitarian night, sitting by myself at my table in this shotgun room, occasionally making my walk  to the back of the room bar, a soft chat with the pleasant lady tender, and some dogfish ipa.

and his demons, and the deeds, lessongs of  the past, live on in the mind, the stories, in the songs.

Its not noon here yet.  I've got to fold my laundry and some chores.  I'm looking out these 2nd floor windows, at all the yellow, red, brown and green leaves.   A nice cross ride through the hills of Gladwyn should set the soul a fire this afternoon.

cheers, d.



slept in a bit Sunday and did the class younger at Cooper River Cross.   A new race, just across the river from Philly.
got a good start, and hung about 8-14th drifting towards the high number towards the end of the race,  with a 14th my place at the end.  Beat out for the higher finish, but I was suffering just to hang on, and got more outta myself than I thought I had.  
The race was well run, loose Jersey loomie soil, lots of natural trees for corners.  The course was stretched thin between a bike path/parking road and the river.  Well run, real nice race.
a nice bit of two low steps to ride up,  I heard many a rear wheels not lift and pound it.
not many had the skills to lift and clear them nice.
Nice to watch it be done smooth, with the flowing suppleness.

stayed and helped with tearing down the course.   Nice to walk about, and look at the winding paths, the lines, without the tape and post there.  
cheers, d.


d.boon George Hurley and Mr. Mike Watt

the anchor, that is it, the heart, the dedication.  I never saw the minutemen. Long ago,  I stood outside the bar, peaking through the mailslot, when I could.  Lifting the springed flap open, the music astoundinginishly good sounding.   I did not know what to think, or to commit to.  and the lack of funds, I knew I wanted to be close, but I held back on buying a ticket and being inside.

just as well,   all these years later, and all this time past. 

I look at the anchor.

and tonight, I feel lucky, to feel regret, that something, that part of me, way back when,was looking, and that something in me, its grown up a bit.  Its learned.  

thanks Mike, thanks for playing tonight  I'm glad I got to see you. and Cheers to d.boon, and George Hurley.     I don't know what else to say, but, thanks.

david lowe



at some point this season, I need to start holding myself accountable.  That point was last Saturday.
Townhall Cross.  I'm great off the line, the majority of the time, back to the 4th row, I can weasel a hole shot.  When I'm on.

Not this time, and making mistakes, its not acceptable, no.   I clipped-in and went  dead center, the stupid line, into deep, come to a stop sod.  Passed by many, swamped.   I had to race forward, passing more than getting passed.  But where I mighta been breaking into the top 10 I was fighting for 13th-15th.  

I've got to seize the moment, the best I can. No shrugging my shoulders, I let myself, my hardwork, and my few skills down, and made the race harder for myself than it needed be.

advice, I was working on a movie, with a bit to learn, doing the dolly, and the Key Grip a good bloke came to me, whilst I was moving the dolly about, not during a shot, and gave me a short few words. To always move the dolly as if you are doing a shot.  What he meant was, get in the habit of doing it right.  To always try to hit your marks, even when its not important.  and, when and  if you get a chance at something big, you'll come in a little better prepared.   Sometimes in life all the right elements don't happen right,             often, or at all.......  but maybe once.  

Friday morning, I did not have to work, set my alarm for before sunrise.  To get up and take some pictures down on the river trail.   One of the trails I ride on my cross bike, that I look out to the right at the river, and feel a bit of non-discript inspiration.

I got out of bed late, not a concrete subject in mind, not inspired.   and just fished, ...without bait, so I got nothing, notable, in the end.   maybe I might of gotten lucky, but nope it was for me to bring.
The talent.  

umm, sorry, not much.   Is it a waste of time, not really I did get something out of it, mainly to value the effort a bit more, to take full-er advantage of my opportunity.

I took a few pictures at the race.   and despite to my aversion to Auto Focus shooting, I'm learning it.
It seems like cheating to me.

Photography, a good picture, yep you can get it, lucky, but to do it again.   Lots of elements to put together, Composition, the Moment, contrast, exposure, shutter speed, color balance.  

and as technology takes away the chances to make mistakes, to keep it in focus,  the skills will be whittled down to talent, statement.   

If I get a chance, I want to make the most of it, ... racing, photography, friends,

and not miss it.
cheers, d.



its the end of the night, I got a pint, fresh, just poured, next to me.
a Full day.
what do I want to remember?

I was out, not really doing openers for tomorrows race.
Out looking to find a lamp to rub.
for luck.
To make my legs spirited.
and up in the tree, I noticed a kite.
as I rounded my moderate lap of the Grass Track.
The kite was caught like a dream, as if the tree had awaken, clasped, and not let go of it.

the rest of today, phhhheff.

Cheers, d. lowe



I'm jaw dropped amazed by people, by some of the things that people do, that they paint, compose, write, cook, brew, ride, lend a hand.
I've found that I am quite self centered and naive.  and it feels a bit better to know, to know how stupid I am, ... not self down on myself, but un-enlightend.

and it might be funny that a band like the Death Grips at this moment is pulling it all together for me, what I am reading, how I'm riding, working.

I wrote them off, because I fell for it, the music, they just gave it away, and then shows, I got my ticket early and waited to see them, and it Cancelled, then they signed to a big label, and lots of tweets, FB'ing, and my disappointment, grew, but I still watched, curious, and then they gave this new one away, I don't understand it, but it yanks me along, following a mumbling shirtless man down the street and turning the corner and heading up an alley to who knows where, or why.   and Shows?


the last couple of days, I've been shooting, the grip, .... the new 76er's. in camp.  "losing's easy, winning's hard",
put yourself in the place to have pressure, work for it, Pressure?  You want to be the player taking a shot with 3 seconds left on the clock down by 14 points, or down by 1?    

I'm not looking for a rainbow to follow for a pot of gold, to sit in a chair and take it easy,  Where did that come from?   I like the work.  To work. 

this morning I opened the front door, about 5:30 am and stood on the threshold, time to leave to work,   It was foggy, really nice.   I stood.   "Nice world we've go here."  Amazing place.
a cat ran out, the tail flicked like a handshake good bye, a soft whip as the tip scooted past my leg.
Cheers, d.