what was that? is that all there is? who is this? this is it.

pilderwasser unlimited T-shirts  pilder what? kickstand P know knew spew snap shots autoBIKEography RAGBRAI  slide shows phot-o-rama stationary-a-gogo 1/2 x 3/32 links

slow

April 2, 2020

if I want your opinion I'll ask you

April 1, 2020

 

Two bike messengers walk into a bar

Except the bar shut down a few weeks ago 

Now the space is being remodeled into a self serve doggie dog wash.  But all the kegs are still tapped in the basement. So they keep walking downstairs and serve themselves. 

Then the unemployed bartender walks in and says, is this a fucking joke? 

 


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dream dreams

March 31, 2020

Plenty of room to grow in: A Baluchistan lad, bundled up against winter’s numbing grip, proudly displays his two-wheeled steed. With the prospect of at least a high-school education comes a new wealth of opportunities. Tonight he can dream dreams as vast and vital as all Iran, and, waking, may find those dreams coming true. 

 

 


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he ain't heavy

March 30, 2020

Even Bees Know What Zero Is
 
by Christian Wiman
 
That's enough memories, thank you, I'm stuffed.
I’ll need a memory vomitorium if this goes on.
How much attention can one man have?
Which reminds me: once I let the gas go on flowing
after my car was full and watched it spill its smell
(and potential hell) all over the ground around me.
I had to pay for that, and in currency quite other than attention.
I’ve had my fill of truth, too, come to think of it.
It’s all smeary in me, I’m like a waterlogged Bible:
enough with the aborted prophecies and garbled laws,
ancient texts holey as a teen’s jeans, begone begats!
Live long enough, and you can’t tell what’s resignation, what resolve.
That’s the bad news. The good news? You don’t give a shit.
My life. It’s like a library that closes for a long, long time
—a lifetime, some of  the disgrunts mutter—
and when it opens opens only to an improved confusion:
theology where poetry should be, psychology crammed with math.
And I’m all the regulars searching for their sections
and I’m the detonated disciplines too.
But most of all I’m the squat, smocked, bingo-winged woman
growing more granitic and less placable by the hour
as citizen after citizen blurts some version of
“What the hell!” or “I thought you’d all died!”
and the little stamp she stamps on the flyleaf
to tell you when your next generic mystery is due
that thing goes stamp right on my very soul.
Which is one more thing I’m done with, by the way,
the whole concept of soul. Even bees know what zero is,
scientists have learned, which means bees know my soul.
I’m done, I tell you, I’m due, I’m Oblivion’s datebook.
I’m a sunburned earthworm, a mongoose’s milk tooth,
a pleasure tariff, yesterday’s headcheese, spiritual gristle.
I’m the Apocalypse’s popsicle. I’m a licked Christian.
 

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locknut lip clearance

March 29, 2020

When all you have is a 32mm headset wrench

everything looks like a 1” threaded headset 

 

 

when all you have is a crown race removal tool

you find new ways to open a beer bottle 


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peloton this

March 27, 2020

whatever it takes

March 24, 2020

Here comes pilder cottontail hoppin down his habbitrail. Hippity hoppity pilder’s on his way. Each day in a similar way. Not because he loves routine. But because he likes to free up bandwidth in his brain for other things, fun things, creative things, quirky things, meaningless petty details take on new meaning when they pop up in a new context. As you know there’s been a bit of a snag in the coffee-beer continuum which requires some patience and creativity to deal with. P’s favorite coffee shop closed up as did his second, third and fourth favorites too. His fifth-favorite coffee shop held on for one extra week in a to-go-only format but it’s closed now too. His favorite bartender lost her job because her bar shut down and will likely never return. His second favorite bartender lost her job and moved back home to live with her parents.  But at least he got that tattoo inked just before the government informed him that tattoo shops are not essential operations. By the time all that hair on his knee grows back maybe he can get a cup of coffee or a pint of beer or both. And his favorite bartender can find a new job. P has no problem with social distancing. His personal space bubble is very large and pre programmed, as in, it’s innate. He never needed lines taped on the floor to let him know when someone was getting too close. If anthropomorphizing this thing makes it easier to understand then do what you need to do. He actually discussed this with a brain scientist. No joke. Terms like tenacity, versatility, adaptability, sticktoitiveness get thrown around when describing a thing that’s not even “alive” Morphing mutating adapting replicating transmitting. In layman's terms: 220/221 whatever it takes. Pilder is burning new neural pathways overcoming routine and muscle memory to find new ways to enter locked buildings with card key access, phone calls and good old brass keys into locked door knobs. Not to mention new sources of drip coffee.  This is just his little self-absorbed perspective on a very shallow superficial nonessential level. P cottontail knows there’s a lot of very important shit going on out there or in there or over there. However distractions and a sense of humor are important. P is wearing a giant Flava Flav necklace that dispenses hand sanitizer (not really but he could be) He appreciates your attention to detail and would like to remind you to turn off “the news” and look around a little. Used rubber gloves are the new discarded dental picks. They’re everywhere. 

 


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STAY HOME until you need more beer

March 23, 2020

waiting for the other other shoe

March 21, 2020

not ready to say "new normal"

still saying goodbye to the old normal

with misty watercolored memories

and a new appreciation for

the way we were


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so 9 years ago bro

March 19, 2020

somebody is 9 years old today


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atom heart mother

March 19, 2020

Watching You (2009) Malleus

Manufactured authenticity. Fake as fuck. For real. Really. Sandwiched between two turnbuckles turning. Canceling each other out. Double barrel ferrules. Cables crimped. It’s wire rope bro. Dontcha know.  CARRIER - LEAVE IF NO RESPONSE. Every little thing she does. Every door knob, urinal flush handle, elevator button, light switch, card key reader, keypad lock, mail cabinet door, key chain, orca card tapper, light rail handrail, $5 bill, handful of change, vending machine, coffee cup lid, JUMP bike handlebar, mens room door lock, paper towel dispenser, soap dish,  hand sanitizer pump. every little every little every little thing. Discarded dental picks everywhere. Swisher Sweet wrappers here and there. Once you achieve that level of awareness you can’t dumb it down or ignore it back to normal or deny it to the old status quo bro. All sales final. Ultimate ultimatum. Amalgam. ABC gum. No bigger fish to fry. Who’s in control here. Can’t you smell that smell. Extra virgin. Single origin. One mayonnaise commercial after another. As seen on TV. She’s attractive in a midwestern way. Ms Celeste Bianchi. That’s not her porn name. That’s her real name. Only she’s not real. It’s all in your mind. Really. For real.  


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fork in the road

March 15, 2020

Last Wednesday I came to a fork in the road and I stopped and picked it up, took a picture of it and then tossed it in the cargo box on my work bike to rattle around. I could feed you some lines about taking the road less travelled by and how it made all the difference but that would be a joke. 

 

Getting run over by metro buses and cement trucks and grub hub delivery dudes repeatedly until finally making its way to the gutter in front of the old Purchasing Building that two story nondescript place you may know better as 3917 University Way NE. This fork got my attention and now it may or may not be getting your attention and I’m ok with that because it will come in handy someday

 

any way 

either way

ONE WAY

or another 

 

The anxiety manifests in a dream where I approach the on-demand bike locker with no visuals no reference to signage or location but purely by muscle memory habit and routine. I put the key card in the slot. That slot I always use on the locker I always roll up to you know the locker I always use...and the door opens. Only the door is double tall high and when it kicks open my bike isn’t in there because it’s just a giant shower stall. So I say what the fuck and slam the door for my early bird return refund and it charges my card $5.32 because it’s a doggie dog wash stall and that’s the minimum charge to access it all. So I’m starting to get stressed because my card only had $7.07 left on it when I arrived and I need to get my bike back because I agreed to work a fill-in day at WaLegal because they’re short staffed in this virus shit show ad hoc crack down slap dash fuck fest. I’m already getting texts and voicemails dispatching me work in the voice of that goddamn pudgy overbearing whiteguy middle manager asshole type that Sound Transit has barking commands all day long on the loudspeakers about restricting bicycles in Pioneer Square and my bike is in one of those 46 identical bike lockers with a slow leak in the rear tire and my card key is now really wrinkled and bent and folded and it only has $1.75 left on it today the alleged last day of Connect 2020 but the light rail is the least of my worries because my bike is in a locker in Rainier Beach and I’ve got pickups that the dispatcher is barking at me from King County and Harborview and the Sonics practice facility and then I wake up in somebody else’s bed and I’m really thirsty

 


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calculate volume of rectangular prism

March 12, 2020

instead of talking about hand sanitizer, let's talk about Rhino Boxes. They're made in Germany and they are amazing. 

 

more on this 

 

When I think of volume I don’t usually describe it or visualize it in liters. But this Rhino Box is big. Think 150 big bottles of Diet Coke. Then think of removing each lid and dropping in a Mentos one hundred and fifty times. Perhaps your brain does better with cubic inches? As in big block V-8 engines. Or fluid ounces? Take a moment to ponder pouring 253.6 bottles of Olde English into a rectangular prism and then sucking it all out with a straw. It’s big. It’s 10,144 fluid ounces big. 

 

But the best part is the lid. It slides open away from the handlebars. Which is awesome and makes a lot of sense and creates a handy work surface to scan barcodes on packages just before you schlepp them those final fifty fucking feet.  The cargo boxes we’ve been using for the past couple years have lids hinged on the drive side that open up like toy chests. So if your handlebars weren’t just right you couldn’t open the lid. The angle of your brake levers had to be examined, the cables and housing had to be reined in and the stem had to be 80mm or less. 

 


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rookie is the new black

March 10, 2020

ABC ENA MDR PM PNP WLM ZEN

March 9, 2020

I know someone that knows Bevin Keely and I texted this photo to their significant other the other day. I guess I can say I know Bevin or I did back  when she placed this full page ad in kickstand #6. Bevin had a soft spot for messengers because she once was one of them. She also had an appreciation for zines and created her very own which  focused on Mike Nipper, the long-time receptionist at The Stranger. Please take a moment and acknowledge those advertised special messenger rates circa 1999. I wasn’t ready for Rolfing 21 years ago and I’m not sure I am these days but it’s something to think about. 

 

 


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call it good

March 6, 2020

bird by bird

March 5, 2020

that there is an Alex Colville painting from 1981 and when you're done thinking about 27" steel wheels and mixte frames     if you have some free time and you're looking for something to read please read Matthew Bevis's commentary in the March issue of Poetry


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on a freshly baked day

March 4, 2020

A Baker Swept By

You were already
losing your eyesight
last winter in Rome
when you paused in the doorway
at nine o’clock on a Saturday morning
and a baker swept by
on a shiny bicycle
waving a cap and singing
under his breath,
you didn’t know bakers wore
white aprons dusted with flour
and floated around the city
like angels
on a freshly baked day,
you weren’t sure why
morning halted
up and down the street
as you stood in the doorway
and a baker winged by
on a weekend morning
so new and pristine
that you looked into the sky
and for one undiminished instant
of misplaced time
you saw brightness,
brightness everywhere,
before a shadow crossed
the rooftops
and it was blotted out.

--Edward Hirsch

 

 

 

yesterday I saw this in Hirsch’s book Stranger by Night and wondered where the hell I read that poem before? With a little research I realized it was in the New Yorker in November. I didn’t give it much thought 3 months ago but it popped back into my hands for a reason and now I’m paying attention and bringing it to your attention too. Finally, in conclusion please take a moment to notice cute little bike racks around you and then think about how much easier it is to lock up to a garbage can or a parking meter if parking meters still existed and then take a moment to remember Benson’s Grocery and all the other mom & pops around town that are no longer around.  

 


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slathered in ranch

March 3, 2020

Today is my Tuesday and you can call it super if you want and I put this picture back up because I don’t have any selfies of me in front of an official Bernie Sanders portrait because Bernie Sanders wasn’t the vice president 10 years ago and therefore didn’t have his portrait hanging around US District Court Houses and Federal Buildings frequented by legal messengers schlepping legal documents. 

 


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pivot points pushed

March 2, 2020

hold the pickles

hold the lettuce

anecdotal 

evidence

suggests 

this is horseshit

where were you 

in 2002

what were you

thinking

get

 to the point 

no need 

to 

triangulate

hypotenuse use 

ok

pivot

points

pushed 

p   a   s   t 

practical 

 


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