joys of a new sponge

it's sunday night, 1855 hours pm in the evening, i'm listening to Dion and the Belmonts sing about Run Around Sue pretty much on repeat.  i really really really like that damn song....

i'm tired, like all the life force has been sucked out of me.  i'm not a close friend of time, so i don't know when the last time i wrote was, feels like a week, but it all started thursday....

went for a kick ass ride thursday, turns out i really really love riding my bike and it makes me happy.

friday, i went for another ride.  i rode pretty fucking well, rode stuff i hadn't ridden before, i was catching air like a pro fisherman catches trout, hucking like i was getting paid for it.  it felt GREAT.

then friday night i lay in bed, cramping my ass off, for no real reason.  i'm pretty sure i was dehydrated, especially since i was pissing brown sand.  

saturday, got a bunch of bananas and went to work early, we had an "event,"  and we worked for 12 straight  hours, non stop, granted there was beer involved, but at the end of the day, i was done.  got home and i could barely stay awake.

this morning i woke up super early and went to work.  it was slow, thankfully, but i'm super tired.

so, what was the highlight of the last few days, other than the super awesome kick ass ride friday?

I GOT A NEW SPONGE!!!!  everyone looks for joys in big things, they look for major events or huge instances, they want spectacular views and grand adventures and major things to make them happy.  well, my new sponge made me super happy.

i finally replaced my old, dirty, tattered, worn out sponge, with the tomato sauce stains and pieces of burnt steak and other detritus stuck to it.  i was pretty sure i was making things dirtier each time i used it to "clean" something.  i finally broke down and got a brand new bright yellow sponge with a kelly green scratchy scrubby pad.  the old one, which used to be yellow, had it's scrubby pad smoothed out over time, it was more of a "spread the dirt around" pad.

it didn't take an amazing sunset atop a mountain overlooking the sea with whales doing backflips and van halen rocking out on a floating barge and a mass of large breasted hot women dancing topless to make me happy.  it took a 79 cent imitation creature of the sea to bring me joy and pleasure.  it wasn't lasting joy and pleasure, but it did the trick, and even now as i think of it, it brings a smile to my face.

it doesn't take much for happiness, and i'm sure the happiness comes from inside, the fact that i can get joy from something as simple as a sponge.  external things cannot make you happy, including my cheap yellow sponge really, but if you let it, i guess, you can get happiness from ordinary objects, and so i wonder....why do you need an object?  why can't you just have the happiness?  i'm sure you could, if you wanted to, but perhaps it's easier to manifest happiness through and avatar?

either way, it cheered me up and made me feel good.

now i'm gonna drink a cup of hot tea, maybe wash some dirty dishes with my clean new sponge, and go to sleep.

tomorrow back to work.  and maybe a really good bike ride afterward.  

my butt is happy

it's 8:44 pm, thursday, i feel good.

didn't do shit today really, watched a bunch of Breaking Bad on Netflix, i figure since everyone else is doing it, i should too.  it's ok, not awesome, not bad.  i wish there was more meth cooking and selling, less relationship drama.

sort of makes me wish i was good at chemistry.  if i was, would i cook meth?  what are the ethics of it?

meth is a poison, it's bad.  if i am not forcing anyone to take it, but i am providing it to people who want it, is that wrong?  there is the argument of "they don't know what they are doing, they can't help themselves,"  however i think they can help themselves.  they can go to rehab, they can get help.  what if i never ever went out and sold it?  what if junkies knew i had it, and they had to come to me?  what if i only sold it to people who sought me out?  why am i wrong?  again, it's poison, it's hurting them, however, you could make the argument that mcdonalds is hurting people and is poison, same as cigarettes, or alcohol.

if someone wants to hurt themselves, or be destructive, who am i to stop them?  why am i punished?  why the fuck are they punished?  people who commit crimes against others should be punished, but if somehow, there is a drug addict who somehow works and can afford to buy his drugs without stealing or mugging, and goes home and gets fucked up, why is that illegal?  am i my brothers keeper?  no, i don't think i am.  if someone comes to me and asks for help, then perhaps i should help them, but if someone comes to me and asks me to help them hurt themselves, if that is their desire, why is it wrong for me to help them?

anyway....got a new saddle for the road bike.  it feels great now, my ass is happy.  it's good to have a happy ass.  went for a quick short ride, about 37 kms.  it was a bit windy, but overall beautiful.  i took pics, they came out ok, but as expected, nowhere near capturing the actual beauty of it all.  when i was done, my ass and crotch didn't hurt.  i love my new saddle.

sadly, other than that, nothing really happened today.  think i shall go to sleep.

another day without drinking alcohol or eating lots of crap (there was ice cream, but not tooooo much).

time to sleep.

well, that didn't last long

tuesday, september 4th, 2141 hours, listening to tiger army, they are so kick ass.

today i drank a beer.  so much for no drinking month.

lets back up to the beginning.  woke up early to go to the gym, stayed in bed thinking "too tired, not gonna make it," then said to myself  "don't be a fucking pussy, get up and go work out" so i did.   went to the gym and pushed weight like a fucking fiend.  felt great, came home, got ready, and spent the day at work.  it was slow but we had a super fun day.

then, after work, i went for a ride.  it was fucking AWESOME!!!  the weather was absolutely perfect, the sunlight was perfect, the roads were perfect, it was one of the best rides ever.  i felt great the whole time, i really really needed it.  i had ridden roads i hadn't ridden before, it was just a fantastic ride.  i wanted to take pictures, the whole time i was thinking i need to bring a camera next time, but i know the pics won't do it justice, they won't capture one percent of the glory and beauty.  and pictures, at least the ones i take, won't capture the feel and essence and vibe of the ride.   no way you can smell the different smells, the cows, the grills cooking meat, the rain in the air, through a picture.  no way you can feel the 7.2 million gnats you ride through as they get in your teeth, on your face, and get caught in your arm hair.  
damn it was such a great ride.

so i pulled back into town, noticed george's car still at the shop, and i knew where he was.  poked my head in the pizza joint and there he was, so i pulled up a seat next to him, and that is when it all went wrong.

i was heady from a great ride, it all felt so natural, as if it was meant to be.  carey asked if i wanted food or a beer, i said no, she walked away, then, i called her over and ordered a beer, without thinking.  she poured it, put it in front of me, and then, only then, did i remember it was a detox month.  fuck!!!!  i told her i was trying to not drink for the month, but then i figured fuck it, i just rode a bike, i can afford some extra calories and such, so i drank it.

i only drank one beer, but i still feel like i cheated.  i'm gonna keep going the rest of the month and not drink, or at least try, but dammit it's just so difficult when it seems to be a central part of work and play and existence.  i sort of miss having a beer at work, having a beer with friends.  and the funny thing is, i don't' really even like beer.  i'm more of a wine guy, good god i love win, rich red wonderful tannin filled wine.  with cheese, with meat....mmmmm, wine.

whatever.  not too big of a deal i guess, i've only really disappointed myself , no one else cares or thinks it's a big deal.  i would like to lose five pounds and clean out my system this month, eating all that meat and crap isn't helping i know.

ok, time for bed.  i'm off tomorrow, gonna go for a good long ride, maybe......

big ride

i'm sitting here, it's 1534 hours in the afternoon, there is a light coating of salt all over my body, i look frosted, my stomach is filing complaints, my legs are having a board meeting right now to see if they want to revolt and cramp or not.  just got back from a three and a half hour ride through the desert.  luckily, we started at 1115 in the afternoon so we got to ride in grueling heat.  good times.  i feel surprisingly great, my mind is tricking me so i don't realize how fat and out of shape i am.

yesterday was a good day.  didn't do too much, did start out at the gym and lifted more weight than i have before, and felt great doing it.  it feels wonderful to be going back to the gym.  the highlight of yesterday was dinner.  i purchased some super tasty fancy schmancy artisanal bread and made some tasty caponata, and we had that with a bottle and a half of very tasty wine.  

so today, after drinking way too much wine and getting a solid four hours of sleep, i embarked on a long hot ride through the desert.  i'm a fucking genius,the things i think are a good idea.

still, i did have a great ride, spectacular views, tons of fun, i feel worked but in a good way.  i'm looking forward to passing out in about an hour, after my shower and another twenty or so glasses of water.  

i call my cat Stinky McPoopsalot

i think cycling can be quite philosophical, many principles and ideas of philosophy can be seen in cycling, and i think mountain biking is a fantastic metaphor for religious beliefs as well.  

mountian biking, be it in north carolina, california, arizona, or in japan, seems to follow a pattern: pedal up a steep ass hill for a really really really long time, possibly stopping to puke here and there, at top ride a super sweet wonderful trail that is beautiful and thrilling and fun, and swoop down the mountain climatically on a sweet fast and fun trail. and that, to me, smacks of religion.

many group rides are on a sunday, sort of like church. you must atone and suffer, painfully climbing up that steep and rocky hill, occasionally falling, each pedal stroke a prayer asking for mercy. there is sweat and blood, you are burdened with whatever you carry on your back. but you climb and climb, heavenward, because once you make it, it is heaven. at the top is redemption, you are reborn and given a reward. the trail is effortless, you laugh and are giddy, ecstatic. the view is spectacular. you must work hard to get to a good trail, and it seems the amount of work you put into it is directly proportional to the coolness of the trail. the really spectacular special and secret trails are well hidden and take lots lots of work to get to.

sure, there are fun trails that are easily accessible, but the really really really fun stuff requires effort.  nothing worth anything comes easy, and this is totally true for mountain biking.  work, reward.  work hard, get bigger reward.  quite often, the harder you work, the better the view, and the more sweet the single track. 

there is an existential side to it all.   when you ride, really really ride, you are living authentically.   when you are out there, pedaling, sweating, you forget about appearances, you forget about putting on airs, you are so consumed with the trail and the ride that you become, if only for a brief moment, the total you, the true you.  when you are tired and hungry, possibly lost, the weather is crap, you reveal yourself, you see who you are and what you are made of.  riding tends to break you down into your most simplest form.  i've seen cool awesome guys lose their shit when faced with a sketchy trail, i've seen guys who i thought were not much show their true strong awesome selves. 

there is a buddhist bent to it.   to really really mountain bike well, you must be present, in the moment.  have you ever been riding along, and suddenly BAM you are on the ground?  nine times out of ten your mind was wandering to other things, you lost focus, you suddenly were thinking of something else, not the trail.  being on a trail, especially a technical trail, forces you to live in the moment, again, you forget your worries, cares, who you are, what bills you have to pay, what that jerk on the forum said, and you are consumed with that moment. you and your bike moving as one.   it's a special time, because everything starts to flow, you are "on" and it all comes together, you forget there is a you, all you feel is the movement through air, the trail beneath you.   it's a meditation of sorts, and pretty fucking close to enlightenment, as far as i'm concerned. 

there is truth, simple truth, real truth, in mountain biking.  when you are out there, riding a bike, there is no faking it, no lying to yourself or others.  you either climb the hill or you don't. you clean that rocky section or you don't.  you can have a badass $5,000 bike, look like a pro, talk like a pro, and act like a pro, but on the trail, none of that matters.  your bike doesn't matter, your clothes don't matter, your tattoo and soul patch and hemp bracelet doesn't matter.   if you can't ride a bike, it shows, and all that bravado and smack talking and chest puffing is gone like rice paper in boiling water. 

cycling, especially mountain biking, to me, is philosophical, bordering on religious, and is wonderful. 

we rode like lions

it is 1834 hours in the evening, a cool 85 degrees or so, i am quite drained.  drew had a chance to ride a 15 pound BMC and said "hey, lets do the monument."  drew hadn't ridden a road bike in years. drew wasn't on a road bike that actually really fit him.  drew is not currently in the best of shape.  drew has some nerve issues.  today was a difficult day.
we were supposed to start around 9:30, as we started pedaling, i glanced at the watch and it was 9:50, and about 15 degrees warmer than it had been an hour prior.  the first hour was flat, then we started to climb.  it was a 67km or so ride, took much longer than it should have.  by the time we were done, it was in the high 90's and the wind had started.   it was a difficult ride.
but we did it.  drew did it.  along the way he had realized he bit off more than he could chew, but the motherfucker chewed it and chewed and and swallowed the whole damn thing.
afterwards we sat at the shop and drank some fin du monde, a tasty high alcohol beer.   it was fucking delicious.
i warm a chamois today.  i'm not as sore as last time.  tomorrow i think i shall do a "recovery ride" and pedal a slow and easy and flat 48 kms.
i really want to sleep.  now.  it was a pretty damn good day.

movie review: moonrise kingdom

woke up early and went for a bike ride (wait, i thought this was a movie review? it is, this will make sense shortly).  it was windy, but not crazy windy.  still, windy enough to make me want to turn around.  i just kept on heading into the wind, knowing i would at least have it at my back on the way home.  my body felt drained. my legs felt like noodles. no matter what i did i couldn't get comfortable.  i was going to do a big ride, i ended up doing about 35 km.   at least i got out there.  i came home and slept like a mofo, which helped. i still feel drained, i don't know why. probably my crappy diet.

so, moonrise kingdom. it was completely pleasant and fun, unlike my extremely not pleasant and unfun bike ride.  i have always like wes anderson movies (except for darjeeling limited, i just couldn't get into that one).  i think this may be his best.  i love the sets he uses, i like the tempo and feel of his movies.  the soundtrack to this movie wasn't as good as his others, but the story was good, and overall it was quite delightful.  i would totally recommend this movie.  

i would not recommend this morning's bike ride though.  it was wholly not delightful.

good ride

it's 1132 hours in the afternoon, i'm sorta tired and my taint hurts.  just got back from a pretty good road ride, 67.59 kms.  i started at 0630 this morning, trying to beat the heat and wind.  today is supposed to be 100 degrees with 20 mph winds, fuuuuuck that.  it was a great morning, the first 16 or so kilometers were flat, i felt good, then the climbing began.  i wanted to throw up, i wanted to pass out, i wanted to turn around and say fuck it, but i kept on going, somehow, and holy shit, i made it to where i knew i was going to be ok. it was a beautiful ride, beautiful day, and surprisingly my legs felt really really good.  even after i was done i felt ok, i wasn't totally beat.
after the ride i stopped by the shop and hung out for a while, then came home, and here i am typing.
now i have the rest of the day to do as i wish.  part of that is meeting the girl and hanging out with her and her daughter.  today i shall meet the daughter, hopefully the kid will like me enough.  i've met the son and he liked me, now for the girl.  i'm not a fan of kids, i hope i don't want to kill the kid....
other than that...i have the rest of the day to do as i please.  which i think will mean sleeping.
so now i gotta take a shower and get ready to hang out with my girlfriend and her spawn.  good times.

new bike, awesome day

been forever since i wrote here.  the last time i wrote here i had fucked up my finger, a lot has changed.  my finger is still fucked up, but i have a brand new kick ass awesome bike, it's magical, i can do just about anything on it.  i rode the section that caused my finger to bend, i've ridden other stuff i hadn't ridden before.

two days ago i went for a pretty awesome road ride, last night i tried to ride but my legs were still not ready.  then there was today....

today was a great day, i am totally beat, spent, done.  went for a big ride to day, in the hot sun, drank a beer or two, and now i wanna call it a day.

great ride, i look forward to the many rides to come.

a short ride

"i just wanna do a short, easy ride, nothing big today"   this is what we said, what we agreed on, what we apprently felt.  it's not what happened. 

the weather was beautiful, just a hint of cool in the air, but our hands and ears weren't screaming in pain from the cold.  we were in short sleeves and shorts, and it was glorious.  took off from the house, got on dirt, and it was ON! 

it felt like riding through an M C Escher painting, we somehow were always going up a fucking hill.  the trails were in perfect condition, i know somwhere along the way we had to be going down a hill, but it felt like all climbing.   we came out by the road, i thought we were done, but oh no, "lets do one more" seemed to be the attitude of the day, and so we did. 

three and a half hours of riding overall.  my legs were jelly.   twenty + miles on a mountain bike is not a "short, easy" day.   overall, it was a good day, a fun day.  


that was yesterday.  today we are going on a slow, short, easy ride.   we shall see about that.....