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.
Showing posts with label philosophy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label philosophy. Show all posts
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Thursday, September 06, 2012
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.
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.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
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.
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.
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