Maintaining a bicycle related weblog while physically unable to actually ride a bike is one thing, but being able to do it while buried under the cover of winter is something else entirely.
Photo complements of Akahodag.
By no means am I complaining. I for one quite like the rain, and moreover, when I lived in snow I was fairly fond of that as well. The point I’m struggling to make is that striving to find relating content day after day when you are A) injured B) floating away in a swirling sea of rain and mudslides or C) both can be somewhat challenging.
Luckily I’m on the mend, the skies seem to be clearing for the moment, and for a dose of inspiration, I get periodical emails like this one from Roger;
“saw this video and smiled. brings me back to the winter survival ramp set ups of my youth.”
“No wall rides.” It’s good to see that they take the well being of their apartment seriously.
But from time to time the winter blues can just get to be too much to bear and even the strongest will can sometimes turn to the bottle. Occasionally this will result in a barrage of email writing and texting. Two such communiques I received this weekend are note worthy, as one came from an attractive woman (this being the only reason. That in itself is why it was note worthy.) -and the other from an attractive man. And by ‘attractive’ I mean totally shitfaced;
“tou would not believw the yequla i;M DRINKING. SERIOULSE HOW FUCKED AM I RIGHT NOW. WHAT TIME IS IT . FUCK IT I LOVE YOU BROTHER.”
I appreciate the fact that I entered these individual’s consciousnesses, however altered they may have been, long enough for them to make contact.
I also appreciate how difficult it is to send an email while engaged in the process of falling down the stairs.
However, be all of this as it may, from time to time while entrenched in the dark part of the year, a window to the sun opens up and gives us an occasional reprieve.
Like for example, this past weekend’s Dolores Park Swap meet, at which one of the three skinsuits that I was attempting to sell was referred to as a “thinger dinger”, and any fork I had for sale with brake bosses was looked at quizzically. As ‘The Bearded One’ said, ‘you kinda have the wrong crowd for this stuff.’
Indeed I did.
Anyway, I walked away with a little bit of scratch in my pocket, which ultimately resulted in riding around blacked out (with my sack in, as it turns out) in the Mission Looking for JMac. Before I get ahead of myself however, I should probably just provide a visual walk through the evening for reference and see if I can’t attempt at configuring some semblance of a reconstruction;
All of which culminated in this;
the following texts from JMac to me on Bee’s phone;
“Steves Dude you’re toattaly blowwwowing ut??”
and finally this;
And that my friends, is what weekends were made for.
I hope you had equally fulfilling ones, and who knows? Maybe you can even remember some of it.
As you might can tell, I’m currently feeling like something of a not-so-handsome disaster, so it is with that, that I take my leave and pull the plug on this installment.
*Editor’s note. To illustrate where my head’s at, I forgot to include the following flyer, so consider this your foot note;
A larger format version can be found here for redistribution, ceiling plastering, or what have you.
Give yourselves a high five for me. I’d do it, but it’s too far up from the floor.