pilderwasser

Open for interpretation…or maybe you had to be there. This photo Craig took gives a hint to the location and time the events took place. I’ll give you another hint and say it was a Wednesday night wiffle ball rescue mission. Leaving a little something to the imagination is often more interesting and attractive. If you must have the story ask Craig or Jewell or Steve.

Yesterday a homeless woman yelled at me as I attempted to lock-up on the beautiful 3rd Avenue side of King County. It was the highlight of my morning. Her volume was high and she was rather close to me but I didn’t take it as a scolding        more of a greeting.

Her words to me:

Then she continued on in a more self-directed unintelligible tirade and I walked away smiling. I like bicycles and I like Barbarella. I also like to visualize the fine line between insanity and genius. Perhaps that woman is walking along that line with a few toes hanging off to either side.

If you build it

they will come...and

wonder why you built it

Raise the Montlake Bridge then the Fremont Bridge then the Ballard Bridge delaying 973 motorists to allow one retired dentist from Clyde Hill to pass on his sailboat.

I guess I would want my job on a day like this. When summer finally rolls around it’s easier to forget about six months worth of grey grayness wet socks and damp wet wetness. A sweat-soaked ass crack is worlds away from a rain-soaked ass crack.

Nice day for a bike ride huh?

When your economic stimulus check arrives are you going to save it for a rainy day.? Plan ahead. Be prepared. The boy scout motto is great, to a point. Until it weighs you down, slows you down, holds you back with over thinking over planning over packing. Would you rather die with a big savings account or live it up here and now --within your means -- but here and now. Nonchalant inconspicuous consumption.

Reliving rewinding remembering the past. What was. What could have been. Navigating with a map that's also known as a bank statement. A printout once a month. When where why what how much. Debit this Debit that.

Beers * Bars * Bike shops * Burritos

Groceries * Utilities * Accessories

compare  contrast  connect  conflict
    Celeste
Are you my Bianchi?
Are you my Bucky?
Are you from ABC?
Wait          and see
2-hour  4-hour   nextday    teener
It’s all the same
What matters? What means something?
What makes a difference

I have to take a piss

I like the receptionist
I’m tired     I’m hungry      I’m thirsty
Where do we go    Where do we go now
Correlation          Causation
Corporation        fast food nation
Confirm or deny the allegation
Without sufficient information
Fee    Fi    Fo    Fum
Coffee  beer  continuum
Cheap  Light   Faux    Dumb
Big     Fat            conundrum
           >>>Ziggy will you ever win
Doric    Ionic     Corinthian
Historic    Ironic        Pomeranian

It’s not fair-weather cycling
That’s not an option
It’s not carbon fiber
Not that there’s anything wrong with that
Side by side    day by day    pound for pound
This chunk of steel is still rolling
The OEM bottom bracket and headset
As close to maintenance free as you can get
Ridden hard put away wet
For years

keep it outta my face

bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow

will be Friday

today is my Four Two Four

oh eight

Dispatching a small legal messenger company is like coaching little league with very limited resources, barely enough players to field a team, no DL, no DH and no backups. No vacation time or sick-leave, no no no. Callers constantly making unreasonable demands, imposing impossible deadlines, making unmake able turn-around times and asking for production that can not be produced.

All your players hate you. Everything you say is bad news.

Most of the time your team is up for the challenge.
However, on some game days you only have two players to field. Forfeit is not an option, so you ride the shit out of your workhorses and hope for the best. Scrubs, dummies, warm bodies, all-stars…it’s all the same. It all pays the same. Unreasonable expectations all around

horseshit

It’s been a long week.
And it’s only Tuesday.

Consumer confidence is way down.
And it was just payday.

Hanging by a thread or a long rubber band.

The Seattle Police continue to show their Mayberry roots
podunk small town nothing better to do bullshit.

Zeppelin II on cassette.
rambling on       going off
Half cocked    half cooked    half the man
                                                I used to be
A real bike messenger
Ramble on

stick it to the man                   not the union

four twenty

three months ago

don't tase me bro

S. Peet photo

Rules. Laws. Ordinances. Codes. Regulations. Requirements. Restrictions. Legislation. Guidelines.

At what point do people stop using their own judgment doing what’s right because it’s the right thing to do, and start following “the rules” because they’re afraid of getting caught. Along that same line, when do people stop taking responsibility for their own actions and start looking for someone or something to blame.

You make the call. You take the fall. You’re an adult, do what you want and deal with it. Wear white shoes after Labor Day if you want to. Wear a brown belt with your black boots if it feels right.

Obviously there are some basic ground rules, traffic laws are necessary for transportation to function in a city. However I believe that urban cyclists can thrive on the edges of those rules. It’s like a strong foundation to build on or a solid base line to dance around…

Excuse me copper
Mr Crime stopper
What’s wrong with what we’re doing
We just like to dance
In our goatskin pants
Around this ancient ruin

Chris Murray photo

RAGBRAI training never ends, it’s a year-round endeavor and even if the temperature dips into the 30s in April, training continues. The café Zum-Zum lunch special consumed in seven minutes is an excellent training exercise. The Stewart Market spicy teriyaki chicken consumed in five minutes--between stupid little rush deliveries from stupid corporate law firms--is also beneficial. Sometimes I like to find a hitching post, post up and down a couple tall boys. Then down a couple more if the air is fresh and the time is right. On cold evenings I ride up the hill and find a warm bar stool and down four pints of IPA. That’s right 4 of the strong stuff, the Indiana. Then ride a bit higher up the hill and have a couple pitchers of Rainier and the Burrito Inferno with chicken and black beans on a spinach tortilla. Finally, I attempt to ride the last few blocks home without stopping in at the Satellite or the Elysian. Put that in your stomach and ride it to the next small Iowa town. A normal man would be in the hospital with abdominal pains, but it’s a night of interval training for RAGBRAI. It’s not about the bike, and it’s not about Lance Armstrong, it’s about getting your stomach to work for you on the bike in various states of fullness, bloated, bulked out, bellied up. The stomach is an amazing thing, that with training will perform even more amazing things.

((()))

Check out Jason in Omak and Craig winning the Boat Street Crit

In your face. Face first. Face up. Face down. Face plant. Face time. Face the music. Face the facts. Face it. Chicks dig big beards…or not.

According to the USDA you need to eat,       a lot.

At the base of the pyramid is the Beer Group (bread, cereal, rice, pasta). For the average American they recommend 6-12 servings. For the average cyclist I suggest more, much more. Pasta and potato salad sandwiches are shortcuts I enjoy. I also enjoy a beer now and then. If 18-24 servings sounds like too much, don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. Like Dan E. Murray said “too much is never enough, it’s always too much.”

Next is the Wine Group (fruits and vegetables) These items take up a big section in grocery stores, a section I often walk through without slowing down. The USDA recommends 4-6 servings a day. If you pour a small glass you can get 6 servings from one wine bottle.

At the next level you’ll find the Deep-Fried Cheese Stick Group (dairy and meat) Heavy government subsidies paid out to farmers as a result of years worth of lobbying by the Dairy Council, the Cattleman’s Beef Board and the National Pork Board among others. This well-funded lobbying makes the USDA suggest way too many servings of this shit. Eat hot wings when you feel like it. Eat pork sausage croissants if your body tells you to. But don’t believe the hype. Beef it’s what’s for dinner. Pork the other white meat. Who’s paying for these great ad campaigns? You are. Got Milk? Hell no I don’t got milk. There’s really no reason for the average American to consume 25 gallons of milk per year. This level brings me down.

Finally the pinnacle, the Hard Liquor Group. They suggest “use sparingly”. I suggest use your best judgment, lather rinse repeat, repeat as needed.    Tequila falls just outside this category and has its own rules.

If you need a gift for a special someone who rides a bike all-year-round, a Peet Shoe Dryer is an amazing, elegantly simple and useful item. It’s one of the best Christmas gifts I’ve ever gotten and it just keeps on giving well into Spring time here in Seattle.

How many ways are there to ask a messenger “is it raining?”
Let me count the ways…

In my book there will be chapter or two about elevators. Reading body language and subtle clues I can tell if you work in the building, I know where you work and I can get within two degrees your occupation, attorney, real estate, investment banker, architect, mid-level government drone. I can tell if you’re visiting, if it’s your first time or you’re a repeat visitor, if a family member works in the building, if you’re getting divorced, if you’re just going to the dentist, if you’re lost, or if you’re hanging sheetrock on 42. I can tell if you’re from a small town, don’t get out much and don’t like the city. I can tell if you’re a smoker. I can tell if you’re having a bad day. I know what you’re eating for lunch. I gather from your phone conversations what’s for dinner tonight, who you’re sleeping with and who in your office is hard to get along with. As a participant-observer-messenger I white-line between participant and observer. Going into full-on observer mode when you least expect it because you see a bike messenger on an elevator but I see you Mr. Styrofoam Clamshell lunch eating cell phone talking soy mocha drinking 1.3 packs per day smoking elevator guy.

Red is the color of this wall on Dexter
In the morning, when we rise
In the morning, when we rise
That's the time
That's the time
I love the best

colors

Happy Birthday to Trenton.

Another day older and deeper in debt.

---from my cheap studio apartment looking down on a small two bedroom house, a small $775,000.00 house that’s literally 40 feet away from me. Drinking my coffee, feeding my cats, wearing my shoes, breathing my air, asking myself how can that fucking house be worth that much? If I was eight hundred grand in-the-hole, how would I feel about living 40 feet from a janky apartment building with people looking down on me laughing at my folly? When will my apartment building go condo? Or when will it get torn down to make room for multi-unit luxury residential condos with off-street parking and street-level retail? When will I move to Everett, get a job in Redmond, buy a car and spend four hours of my day commuting to work? When will I wait 3 minutes at the office for an elevator to take me down to the parking garage so I can drive to the gym and ride the stairmaster for 3 minutes?

When? Where? Why?

Running on three cylinders, and it’s a V-8. A hazy shade of Thursday. Cheap gas and lots of city miles and I’ve got 5 fuel injectors clogged. I feel the pedal go down but I don’t feel the acceleration. Maybe I need to get some sleep and a real meal.

Or maybe not

I enter your sphere
sitting at the bar    day’s end
you pour   me smiles       beer

what's that Lama?

Oh yeah don’t worry, we’ve got the Seattle Police out in force and the State Patrol is helping out too. They’re cleaning up the streets for you, at least along the route of the motorcade. We’re busting random bike messengers for nothing, we’re hauling away homeless people, we’re picking up trash, we’re kicking ass for you out there Lama.

Do you think I could ride shotgun in the pope-mobile on the way back to the hotel?

it's not a job   it's a way of life

Just the tip of the iceberg, the overflow, the icing on the cake. What lies beneath? I spy some tuna casserole. Have another beer and you can almost see it starting to swirl down the drain in a clockwise direction or counterclockwise if you’re down under.

A diuretic fiesta. Coffee carousel. Beer roundabout.

Riding on the coffee-beer continuum as usual. However, on April 8, 2008 here in Seattle it was more of a coffee-beer merry go round. Ride it as long as you want, hop off and on whenever you need to. Depending on the time, the temperature and your personal needs. Reach for the golden ring.

Round and Round

Of the coffee-beer continuum I must give credit
Where credit is due…
To Robert Arzoo
Who brought the continuum into my consciousness around 1993. Since then I’ve taken it in, adopted it, nurtured it and raised it as my own in another context.

Standing by on Slow Monday. A very slow Monday in fact. Did so few jobs that by the end of the day it was really annoying to even hear the dispatcher at all. Lots of time on my hands but a long way from “free time”. Strapped into a messenger bag with a Nextel wired to my mouth. I’m conditioned to salivate when it chirps. But cotton mouth sets in, especially when I get paid by the hour. I couldn’t write complete sentences, so I wrote random thoughts. The meaning, the connections, the transitions, the flow is up to you. Word. Words.

Ride slower
Makes the day go faster
Mr day-glo pants
    versus
Mr purple deep V
Hipster fix-o-rama drama
An old country family
     recipe for disaster
Schooner - Pint - Pitcher
12 oz - Tallboy - Roadmaster
Six-pack rings on my fingers
SPD bells on my toes
Guacamole near my 3rd lumbar
Another---one more---on par
Burrito Inferno a la Bimbo

Unsolved mystery solved
It’s like butter
 on a roll a run a hot streak
Good luck with that honeybear
Soak in warm water
Take a bath… take it to another level
mist fog drizzle sprinkle downpour
partly cloudy with a chance of rain
Rain turning to showers
High near 50
Never-ending five-day forecast
recycled for 6 months…and counting
Getting old = older = oldest
Looking for a change in the weather
Keep your John Fogerty
Your shit is weak
Watered down overcooked soft moderate played out
Middle of the road vanilla milquetoast mild
1301 elevator Muzak weak
Standing by standing Up
Upgrade Uptown Up yours sit down
Downsize downshift down comforter
Every good boy does fine
White noise   Wild boys
Black  Gold  Turquoise
Duran Duran…Barbarella
Tourist totes umbrella
Keep it in the family
Keep it in-house
Stumbled upon a new job
In through the outsource
On the way to the outhouse
 stepped on a slug
Go with your gut
Feeling Minnesota

Peet to bag ratio. Do the math.

Foster will soon rock the green unitard sans jersey.

Buying my favorite beer at one of my favorite mom & pops. Grandma, the older lady in what appears to be three generations of proprietors, smiles, waves, points at the six pack in my hand and laughs. Then, because she doesn’t speak English very well asks her grandson to ask me what I do for a living, all the while pointing at me and the beer and gesturing. I tell her via him that I ride a bike around town and that’s why I can buy so much beer from her, drink a lot of it and stay relatively thin.

See you. Have good day.

A friendly reminder from Foster  

Saturday April 12: Volunteer Park Criterium

Sunday April 13: Brad Lewis Memorial Criterium

please make a note of it, and it too.

Poetry can be found in the back of an Auto Body shop. April is National Poetry Month. Poetry can be found in a Cave Singer. Check out Baby Bird live @ the BBC. Word. Words. Poetry. Puppy knew poetry.

Where's the beef?

The guy in the red sweatshirt is raising his beer...perhaps a toast to tourists that take pictures of one-legged pigeons in Pioneer Square, a toast to messengers that take pictures of seagull poop on sculpture or just a toast to drinking beer in the morning.

I read a bit of a complaint I was filing in Superior Court this afternoon. A couple started a lawsuit against their neighbor over the Laurel Hedge on their property line and how it was trimmed too short. So much money, so much time, so many attorneys, so much bullshit. If I was the judge on that case I'd show up in their yard with a chainsaw and take care of the fucking hedge and the lawsuit. Leave the money-grubbing attorneys out of it and settle that shit out of court with little hard work and a little tough love. 

Howdy neighbor.