the Man who wasn't there

funny, today I got done with all my shit to do early, and was laying on the couch and thought "Cohen Bros."  then... The Man Who Wasn't There.

I felt great, the start, center of the line, and holding the second wheel.   Five laps of good, and then, nothing.  I rode with Erik mitchell abit, till we got pulled, quick.   Such a difference than yestedrday.

the pain, mentally, not so bad tonight, I didn't feel I had too much, when I was laying on the couch watching billy bob.

I don't know why that movie popped into my head today, but it hit the spot, A flick that means something to me.


Seconds are lifetimes, when you are suffen'.

but to other, you just passing by, blllllurrrr.


Me I need to heed the call, It keeps me steady.
and I don't know how someone can win so much, even at this level... let alone how someone can win so much at the top level.

This fall, I look forward to cross.

 John Doe.

from "the Keeper"  - "don't forget how much I love you"



cheers, d.


a clip from the Man who wasn't there if you'd care

Gratis versus Libre

George's Hill, the plot of land that the Welshman bought a bit ago, donated to the city, "the best view".     This bench, this plot has treated me well.   It over looks the Mann Music Center. 

It is best reached by bike, and for the most part you are left alone to behave to you own accord.   I tried to keep my behavior reasonable.   I failed a bit... we all brought drinks, and talked, listen to the wind carry the music of Norah Jones up over the fence, to us,  gratis.

Last night I did the crit in Wayne, short course, I got off the front for a few laps, nice to hear "go dlowe" again.  Nice to be going fast, to suffer,.....  nothing in the sprint but finished 11th of the 18th that held onto to the end.

the faint figure in the right of the photo, Meisha, up and enjoying the music, freedom,,,.... to ride.

cheers, d.

Simple

its been a long, a long time, since I hopped on a bike, and just rolled,... going hard when I wanted, fast, coasting, wheelies, flipping stray sticks with my rear tire.

a new team, its set me way better, good people, good for my mind, new friends, .... and that old anger, and wars, the battles i lost, fading, gone.

I kept holding back, no need to drive it all hard, I'd drop it down a ring.  

I was coming down to the creek crossing, a bit tricky for me, 50% of the time I hop off, thinking to much of the risk, and walk it.  Today a dad and some kids were splashing up stream a bit.  I dropped in, cleaning it smooth, and all the riding and crashing, freezing toes, broken helmets, sleepless nights of feeling slow and beaten.  I rode it like a champ, they took it in, and gave me big grins, and some whooppss,... and I was on my way.

felt good today.

cheers, d.

flaws

Saturday Afternoon. 

Tired Hands, for a beer.   Its a nice quiet night here,  I like when summer hits my neighborhood, it gets quiet, I'm not sure where the people go, but they take the kids and sikddadle. 

4hr mtbike ride.  

I wish I wrote better, and wrote more.  I have plenty of thoughts and ideas, but not the skills to link them together to take you somewhere.

Sunday Night.

my friends, I find they are all flawed, that's good, they know it, and I think they know I can see it.

and I know they see mine.   I don't want to hide it.

Tuesday.

working at a cancer center, surprisingly the day was full of good spirits and laughter.  Just a few tears.

The doctor was the subject, the story, he works, trying to make kids with cancer well.

I really like this photo.

Wed.

at the doctors house, end of the day, equipment wrapped.  sipping a tacate in his driveway, he pulls out a segway, I hop on and give it a go.  A hug. and I'm on my way.

Thursday, in a basement, pre-lighting.

Friday Day, interviews.

Friday Night.

Red Fang.

Next to the stage.

The Sword, I love the fang, but the Sword, a better set of songs.

I like the details, I'm a good watcher, and the story, its not in the standard pictures, nope, we all know, that the truer story, the underlining truth, its in the details, the little things.

Monday.

well I'm still up, just want to add a bit more.  Anthony Skorochod came out to the ann rock 50th birthday ride.  I knew the Wiss. was going to be too much for him and his bike, a cross bike.  I did not say anything when we rolled off to the first climb. He'd figure it out, seems like he's got an interesting good noggin on his body.   Here's a pic from Mr. Skorochod. 

gotta go to bed, thanks for skimming along with me.  Happy Birthday Ann Rock, you inspire me.

Cheers!  dlowe

  Charles bukowski had a quote somewhere, that I can never find again, but he said something like, "its better to tell a good story, than a totally true one".  I think we get that essence,....and perspective is always skewered.   

Ride - under Influences

hmmm, it might seem sorta strange, but today was the first day I rode a bike to the bank, and then shopping for fresh produce.    All the time I spend pedaling, none of it was done for my day to day living.   It took me a while, but I got the beater going.   maybe the trip today took 20 minutes total.   Most of the places I need to go are within 2 miles of my house.   I can't tell you how good I feel, not driving my car, I just need to push myself a bit more, to keep it up now.

Marc V. put up some good thinking,  I agree with,....
"The people who actually produce things do so primarily for two reasons: (1) they have strong work ethic. In other words they have come to believe that rewards only come with hard work and (2) they enjoy producing. It is exciting for them and the reward for producing is not only the things they are able to accomplish as a result of it but the personal growth and sense of worth that come from producing it: this is true self-esteem."

I like the journey, the act, and I've come to care less about getting somewhere, or achieving something. I don't care if it goes up hill, cold, night, new, strange, the same ,... maybe I should be a mailman?

...ah for me sometimes I don't now why I need to go do something, I'm full of it, energy, a bit hard to contain it sometimes.   so I just do it, and see what happens.

In my mind I'm trying to do less, damage, less impact, be a positive life form.  Its hard, most of what I do, damages the planet, other life here.  OK, I'm not too caught up on it. ... but like,  If I can add riding a bike to go to the bank, for my close errands, to my life, that's a good step....      other things for me, my list: rain water barrels on our downspouts, less use of plastics, more locally produced products...  I'm a HIPPIE!  what the fuck? 

Cheers, d.

a visit past

In a way, I really miss the punk rock days, the music days of my past.  I try not to live in the past, and for the most part the present, its better, an improvement for me.

Ceremony - "Hysteria"

and this is a bit of a new feeling for me, so I have not mulled it about, yet, or thought about it much,  but was music more special to me, the performance, soul, rights, statements, than it seemed to todays audience.

 

 

Ceremony - "open head"

 

 

I went to see Ceremony.

I have not been to a show like this in a while, packed small places,......  in Phila. at a dirty bar, and then up to Wilkes Barre, some empty store in a desolate short strip of shops.  Its the way to see music, press tight, close to the band, you are a part of it.

 

 

Ceremony - "adult"

 

 

I went on a whim, the second night, following the band Ceremony, up to Wilkes Barre.PA  My parents use to live up there, I have not been up in a long time, felt like making a return visit. I got a cheap hotel, my room over-looked the Public Square Park, in downtown Wilkes Barre.

Ceremony - "Hotel"

I checked into my room, and cracked open the dented mini fridge to see how cold it was. to dump some beers I had down in the car to chill, so I'd have something to sip after the show.  I was surprised to hear two bottles rattle against each other as the door swoong open.  Ice cold, ...and into my hand.  A nice welcome.

 

Arcaro & Genell's

Hit up a place in Old Forge, that I went with my parents, still a cool place,

might always be.

some cool shit around town still.

then...

 hanging out before the show, hand stamped, having a tacate at the back of my car.

lots of kids, getting into it, but how deep is it for 'em?

I guess acting on an impulse, to go, was good, good for me,

cheers!  fuckers  d.

10 gallon Hat

today I raced a crit. Riverton.

I lost my full bottle, I think, maybe on the fourth or fifth lap, of 35.

The race was hot, fast, hard.

I'm glad that I like some of the old school training, you know train in the rain race in the rain thinking.

once in a while I'll do a bonker ride, take one bottle out with me,  knowing that I'm just going to end up a little crossed-eyed. bonked

so many times today I thought about how to pull up, to quit, the race, I could not think of an excuse... so I would attack.    Some of that bonker training experience came back to me, the training paid off, and I made it to the end.  15th.  With that I'm am quite happy.

During the race I was put into the gutter,  if you look close you can see the rubber I left on the road appling some breaks to survive.    Coming out of turn 2, I was on the high side, and a ********** team rider,   who  rode his bike like he was pushing a wheel barrow full of bricks, could not hold his line.   CycloCross is good training and gives you some skills in bumping and holdng line, and I had to do a lot of rubbing here, I leaned hard into him, I tried to look at the hole of a path along the curb,  not the curb and pain.     "Fucker" I yelled at his face, he keep his grimce and kept rolling along pushing his wheel barrel of bricks.


somewhere in all these laps I though of pulling on a large cowboy hat, it'd be full of cold water, I'd ride a bit, with it on my head, then take a good slug of it,  Glug, Glug, Glug, and pedal on.


good night. d.

lowe-fi

low-fidelity, sometimes its just the moment, and all the talent, skill, flair, style, ....the stuff you can't steal, cause really what value does it have, now, not much.   and lo-fi, I guess its just peering into a heart, pulling the skin open with the fingers, messy.

                                                 got the window table at Tired Hands

                                                 the beater, its strong,... good bike

drank some beers, ate a bit.
and I raced George home, in the dark, down neighborhood streets, not sure where the curbs where.  He was moving on his bike, and I had the beater reved up, keeping up.  The growler, nestled in a insulated lunch bag, asleep through it all in the front basket.

maybe this is what life is about

shims beneath three of your legs, but no one notices, cause your functional

I'll go see the Gudied by Voices at the Troc.

cheers, d.