Chuck Palahniuk inspires me at almost every level.
Now that I'm working towards becoming a full-time fiction writer, I've been doing some research on where I might get a Masters of Fine Arts in Fiction.
There's a list of stories and non-fiction titles that I know will sell in the market.
This list keeps growing.
And I have thermonuclear diarrhea.
I'm like a SSTAR (Small, Sealed, Transportable, Autonomous Reactor).
I came up with my own acronym, SSUN. (Small, Sealed, aUtonomous FissioN).
What is it with me and atomic physics?
That's all, I guess, for 2006. I fell in love (or in lust?), got fired, started my first novel, met an old flame, put the past behind me, and got rip-roaringly blitzed, sloshed, smashed, inebriated, stoned, high, intoxicated, buzzed, sparrowed, shitfaced, FUBAR'd, plastered, hammered, and every other kind of fucking word you'd use for drinking way way WAY too much.
Ok time's up.
Have a Merry Christmas. And here's to 2007.
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Money Talks. Bullshit Walks.
Chuck Palahniuk on Oprah's diaphragm
C. P. Farley, Powells.com
Chuck Palahniuk's immoderate satires elicit much the same reaction as a Dead Baby joke: readers aren't quite sure if it's okay to laugh. This may help explain Palahniuk's initial problems finding a publisher.
As the story goes, when Palahniuk sent his first manuscript to New York, a number of editors personally loved the book but were nevertheless too timid to admit it. They worried that they alone were demented enough to enjoy a book in which Thanksgiving dinner includes a graphic description of felching. The book, Invisible Monsters, was unanimously turned down.
But instead of turning to more "marketable" material, Palahniuk decided to screw New York and write an even more outrageous book. The story he came up with centered around a club where men come together to beat one another senseless. Fight Club's blend of extreme violence, black comedy and passionate ideas was like nothing anyone had ever read before. When Marla waxed romantic to Tyler by telling him, "I want to have your abortion," readers knew they had entered virgin terrain.
Finally, W. W. Norton recognized an opportunity. When in 1995 they agreed to publish Fight Club, one of the most original and exciting literary careers of recent memory was born. After the exceptional David Fincher movie, which made the term "Fight Club" part of the vernacular, Palahniuk was able to quit his day job and begin writing full time. In the next three years he published two more "maniacally comic" novels, Survivor and Invisible Monsters (apparently now safe to print), which cemented his reputation as "a master of depicting the dark and depraved underbelly of our society through the voices of mordantly existential protagonists."
Palahniuk's new novel, Choke, does for sex what Fight Club did for violence. It tells the story of Victor Mancini, a recovering sex-addict whose resolve to overcome his illness is less than convincing. In fact, he continues to attend his recovery meetings only because they are such a great place to pick up chicks. Meanwhile, Victor scams a little extra cash by going to restaurants and pretending to choke on his food until someone performs the Heimlich maneuver. For when someone saves your life, they tend to feel compelled to help you again, hopefully in the form of cash checks.
Where he comes up with this stuff is anyone's guess. But by now, who cares. Palahniuk's readers are hooked on his unique blend of wicked wit and carpe diem outrage. And, after Choke debuted at number ten on the New York Times Bestseller list, no doubt his publishers are hooked on his marketability.
The following quotations were excerpted from a conversation between Chuck Palahniuk and C. P. Farley on July 5th, 2001.
"When I started writing, I said my goal was to bring people back to reading, people who had given up on reading. So I wrote for people who didn't read at that point. Today, you have to write books that can compete against video games and music videos and professional wrestling and all the other things people can do with their time. And those people want plot. People don't want stasis and description. They want the plot to move, they want lots of verbs. You know, verbs on top of verbs."
* * *
"When I was a kid I used to go to the library, and I would read all the Ellery Queen books, because with the Ellery Queen books they gave you all the clues. All the cards were on the table. It was an even playing field. And so when you could figure it out, it was a real victory. I loved reading them very slowly and then reasoning through them and trying to put together what we were given and why were we given that. What scenes stood out? What didn't fit? What were we shown on purpose because we had to be shown that thing? They were just great examples of revealing not too much but enough for people to get it if you wanted to get it. I loved those books."
* * *
"For a lot of the people who come to my readings, it's true that they don't read other books. Some people seem to think that's bad. So many guys come up to me at events and say, So is this what readings are always like? And I realize they've never been to a reading. They've never bought a hardcover book. Of course I shake their hand and say, Yes, readings are like this. Books are incredible. I don't want to ruin their first experience. I want them to come back to readings. I want them to buy other books. It's not about me being the center of the universe. It's about bringing people back to books, and showing them that books can be incredibly rewarding and entertaining and whatever. So yeah, these people read nothing else. But eventually they will. And maybe the reason they don't read other things is not their problem. Maybe it's just that there are a lot of sucky books out there. Not to say that my books are not sucky books."
* * *
"For me, plot is very important. Every chapter has to up the ante. Otherwise, why is it there? If no action is taking place within this section, what's going to increase the emotional and psychological tension. Maybe it's a lulling scene that's going to provide a contrast, that's going to give a very short, quiet episode before the huge breakdown and disaster. I'll do that occasionally, but just for contrast.
"It's like when Sigourney Weaver stripped down to her bra and panties, blew out the candle, and put out the cat before the final showdown with the alien. This scene was there to lull us - and, of course, sexually excite us. The music goes all soft, and then boom!, the alien's there. It's the oldest trick in the book.
"But anything that builds those skills, that gets people exercising that part of their mind, and makes them excited to be reading, makes them crave and look forward to it: I love that."
* * *
"I always think I deal with really typical things. Like I didn't invent the waiter-peeing-in-the-soup thing. I really invent so little of what I put in my fiction. But finding ways to make it real in the world, or reinventing it and make it seem real again, I think I do that really well. But as far as overall originality, there's just not a whole lot there."
* * *
"Humor is crucial. Otherwise, why bother? Without humor, my books would be like those tragic Oprah books. You know, everybody just weeping and looking tragic and...the end. Tragedy on top of tragedy is just overwhelming.
"In college, we read about a group of people who were shown photographs of dental decomposition in various stages. The people who were shown photographs of mild deterioration and mild tooth loss increased their dental care, their dental hygiene. But people who were shown severely deteriorated mouths, hideous photographs, those people just shut down entirely. They quit brushing their teeth and flossing altogether. It actually made them worse.
"That's why if you're going to portray sadness, if you're going to have enormous amounts of sad, dark material, it has to be presented in a funny way, or there has to be intermittent funny scenes to release that tension, to bring people back up, to contrast with the sadness so that it can occur again and again."
* * *
"At Book Expo my editor Gerry Howard got invited to a high tea at Oprah Winfrey's apartment. So I was really needling Gerry, trying to get him to bring back some sort of a sacred relic that we could sell on Ebay. I wanted him to go through her medicine cabinet, to look under her bed, pretend he'd lost a contact lens and get down on all fours, just look around and see what he could steal.
"Gerry wouldn't do it. He just totally gutted out. So while I was on tour, every time I was on the radio I told a story about how Gerry had stolen Oprah's diaphragm and put it on Ebay and we were both going to make a fortune and retire. I told that story in total seriousness in six major markets until finally I got this call from New York saying, Stop it! Don't tell that story any more. Cut it out.
"I was able to tell that story one more time in New York at a reading, but this time in the form of a public apology to Gerry, who was there. He laughed so hard that I knew that that night I could read all the filthy stuff."
* * *
"People seem very happy with Choke. Some people say it's my funniest book so far. But I got one guy at the Barnes and Noble Union Square event who stood up and basically read my beads, just said, When the fuck are you going to stop doing this 'identity crisis' thing, talking about identity as a central theme and move on...blah blah blah. It's been four books. You're still dealing with identity. We need you to give it up and really show us something new with your talent. And then he goes, Well, I think you're a great writer. I really love your work. And I'm kind of like, Okay, cut my balls off and then compliment me?
"I told him that I really wanted to completely explore the theme of identity. You know, not just dash it off and get rid of it, but explore it from every angle before I left it behind. But I think in a way he's right. And that's why my next book, Lullaby, is such a complete departure from identityitis. Identity plays no part at all in Lullaby. It's got entirely different themes.
"But a half dozen guys came up to me in line that night and very seriously said, You want me to take that guy out? I think he's still downstairs. You want me to take care of him for you? And they were totally serious. So I went, Yeah, would you?"
* * *
"I think that the central, most American literary theme is the invention of self. We see it in Henry James's Bostonians; we see it in The Great Gatsby; we see it in Breakfast at Tiffany's. People who move to the city from the country and reinvent themselves, or move to the frontier and reinvent themselves. It's the poor person becoming the rich person. You know, the nobody becoming the celebrity. It's such an American genre, this whole idea of reinventing and creating your self based on your dream, or how you perceive yourself to be, or not to be, whatever. And I've always seen that as the most American literary device or literary theme, so I really wanted to play with that.
"Maybe it's only at this point that I've become comfortable with who I am, so that theme no longer appeals to me. Plus, four books based on that! Fight Club is based on what you are not; Invisible Monsters was based on recreating yourself based on fashion and fantasy; Survivor was based on creating yourself in the face of immortality; and Choke was based on creating yourself out of a purpose, out of something that you stake your life on, that you commit to. So they're all about creating identity. But it's time to get past that."
* * *
"The books are always about taking a character from faux happiness and isolation back into community, into dysfunctional, unpleasant, chaotic, but ultimately more fulfilling community. Because the other American myth is that if we can just get away from one other, then we'll be happy. And so we want to be Howard Hughes in the penthouse, or we want to be William Randolph Hearst at San Simeon. We want to be on that desert island away from everyone, and then we'll be happy. And then we get to that isolated place where we're alone, and we're even more miserable than we ever were before. And so there's that constant pull between wanting to be with people, and wanting to be alone. And flip-flopping back and forth. You know, if you're married you want to be divorced. If you're divorced, you want to be married. We never want what we have at the moment we have it. And so the books are always about bringing people back into community, people who've achieved that isolation and now hate it.
"You know, five minutes after the lambs stop screaming in Silence of the Lambs, the lambs started screaming again. They never stopped screaming for, at the very most, five days, okay. Clarice had maybe a five-day window. But she woke up one day and those lambs were screaming louder than ever, and she realized that she was on a treadmill. For the rest of her life she was going to be shutting the lambs up. And every time she got them to shut up, they would shut up for shorter and shorter periods of time, until eventually Clarice Starling will kill herself. Or she will go on medication. You know, eventually the last book in that series will be called The Medicating of the Lambs, or The Prozac of the Lambs."
* * *
"It feels like that kind of a cycle never does end. Damn it. I think we're all doomed to reincarnation. People believe reincarnation's a good thing. But it feels like that hamster wheel to me. Who wants to be there for the final curtain, to be on stage for the plague/war/famine, whatever's going to happen. All those people who threw away their cigarette butts and killed all the birds? So boy, rotting in a box does not sound like such a bad thing at this point."
* * *
"As a child my father impressed upon me that if you are going to do stupid things you are going to have to pay the price. Once he actually threatened to chop off my finger with an axe for something I'd done. And at that moment it became incredibly clear to me that I am a cause in my own life, that I had to take responsibility for myself for the rest of my life, and not blame anyone for the things that I did. I was not going to blame anyone. If I wanted something to happen, I was going to make it happen. I was going to be the cause. You may forget those defining moments, but you still act out of those decisions. And I think that is one reason I've been very proactive in my life, because of that one afternoon, when it became really clear that I am responsible for me.
"A childhood is full of great defining stories, these moments in which you make enormous decisions about how the world is and how you will be in reaction to that world for the rest of your life. And you forget that you did that. You just become that reaction, but you can't remember why you became that. And remembering the moment when you made that decision and became that reaction is so freeing because you're like, Oh my God. Suddenly you have the choice of either being that thing that you've always chosen to be, or being something totally different that's not a reaction to the fact that no one showed up for your fifth birthday party. You're free from that tragedy of the past. You don't have to be a reaction to it for the rest of your life."
* * *
"I see hope as this rather pointless, amorphous emotion. Hope doesn't accomplish anything. Action accomplishes something. The idea that a possibility creates something... Sitting around hoping for something doesn't do much."
* * *
"When you think about what a small percentage of the people in this huge culture actually control things, it's staggering that more people aren't controlling their culture. It's only a tiny handful. And why is that? That's what breaks my heart. And I think young people, with the Internet and the availability of technology, are more and more able to get their stuff out. But then I worry whether by the time they have the technology we will have cut expressive courses in high school and college to the point that no one has the ability anymore to express themselves in an entertaining, balanced, or interesting way. Band and art and creative writing, or any of those things that we don't see as vocational, could actually be the most important courses, because they give kids a way of expressing themselves other than breaking things."
* * *
"The idea, Don't push the river, it flows. You could sit here all day and the river is not going to flow you where you want to go. And is it really pushing when you're doing something you love to do? Or is it just in a way surrendering yourself to that thing that you've always wanted to do? I don't see that as pushing the river. I see that as jumping in and letting the river sweep me along rather than clinging to the bank and not doing the thing that I'm dying to do."
* * *
"You know, all I've ever known are really obsessive passions, so it's hard for me to imagine people who don't have some sort of obsessive passion in their life, something that they have always dreamed of doing, whether or not they're doing it. I think that everyone's got an incredible passion, whether or not they admit it, or whether or not they're even aware of it anymore. Maybe they've just completely forgotten the fact that they wanted to do this thing when they were a child. Or they talked themselves out of ever doing that or being that. But I have to think that everyone's got that passion, and that much of our unhappiness and destructive behavior is based on not doing what we were created to do, for whatever reason."
* * *
"Oh, my God, sometimes I think I live my life more on the page than I do in the world anymore. And I get a little worried that I've reached the point where I can imagine things so clearly and so satisfactorily that I'll be disillusioned with everything in the physical world, because I can imagine things so much better. At that point I would be so dissatisfied with reality I would be nothing but Jabba the Hutt at my laptop and do nothing out in the world.
"You have to wonder when you see people like Stephen King, who I perceive as writing compulsively. And now, come to find out, he's taken drugs and drunk alcohol compulsively. If part of that isn't also this disillusionment with the physical world and the idea that this fantasy life on the page can be so much more exciting and fulfilling than real life can ever ever ever be... On the page you can do things that are impossible in the world, because the world is so regulated and structured anymore. On the page you can make those mistakes and have those adventures. I just get a little worried that I'll stop having those adventures in the world. And I won't even bother with the physical world because the fake world is so much nicer, so much more satisfying."
* * *
"Well, I suppose there isn't probably much difference between a sex addict and a writer. But when it's behavior that anesthetizes - come to think of it, writing anesthetizes, doesn't it? Okay, there's no difference whatsoever."
C. P. Farley, Powells.com
Chuck Palahniuk's immoderate satires elicit much the same reaction as a Dead Baby joke: readers aren't quite sure if it's okay to laugh. This may help explain Palahniuk's initial problems finding a publisher.
As the story goes, when Palahniuk sent his first manuscript to New York, a number of editors personally loved the book but were nevertheless too timid to admit it. They worried that they alone were demented enough to enjoy a book in which Thanksgiving dinner includes a graphic description of felching. The book, Invisible Monsters, was unanimously turned down.
But instead of turning to more "marketable" material, Palahniuk decided to screw New York and write an even more outrageous book. The story he came up with centered around a club where men come together to beat one another senseless. Fight Club's blend of extreme violence, black comedy and passionate ideas was like nothing anyone had ever read before. When Marla waxed romantic to Tyler by telling him, "I want to have your abortion," readers knew they had entered virgin terrain.
Finally, W. W. Norton recognized an opportunity. When in 1995 they agreed to publish Fight Club, one of the most original and exciting literary careers of recent memory was born. After the exceptional David Fincher movie, which made the term "Fight Club" part of the vernacular, Palahniuk was able to quit his day job and begin writing full time. In the next three years he published two more "maniacally comic" novels, Survivor and Invisible Monsters (apparently now safe to print), which cemented his reputation as "a master of depicting the dark and depraved underbelly of our society through the voices of mordantly existential protagonists."
Palahniuk's new novel, Choke, does for sex what Fight Club did for violence. It tells the story of Victor Mancini, a recovering sex-addict whose resolve to overcome his illness is less than convincing. In fact, he continues to attend his recovery meetings only because they are such a great place to pick up chicks. Meanwhile, Victor scams a little extra cash by going to restaurants and pretending to choke on his food until someone performs the Heimlich maneuver. For when someone saves your life, they tend to feel compelled to help you again, hopefully in the form of cash checks.
Where he comes up with this stuff is anyone's guess. But by now, who cares. Palahniuk's readers are hooked on his unique blend of wicked wit and carpe diem outrage. And, after Choke debuted at number ten on the New York Times Bestseller list, no doubt his publishers are hooked on his marketability.
The following quotations were excerpted from a conversation between Chuck Palahniuk and C. P. Farley on July 5th, 2001.
"When I started writing, I said my goal was to bring people back to reading, people who had given up on reading. So I wrote for people who didn't read at that point. Today, you have to write books that can compete against video games and music videos and professional wrestling and all the other things people can do with their time. And those people want plot. People don't want stasis and description. They want the plot to move, they want lots of verbs. You know, verbs on top of verbs."
* * *
"When I was a kid I used to go to the library, and I would read all the Ellery Queen books, because with the Ellery Queen books they gave you all the clues. All the cards were on the table. It was an even playing field. And so when you could figure it out, it was a real victory. I loved reading them very slowly and then reasoning through them and trying to put together what we were given and why were we given that. What scenes stood out? What didn't fit? What were we shown on purpose because we had to be shown that thing? They were just great examples of revealing not too much but enough for people to get it if you wanted to get it. I loved those books."
* * *
"For a lot of the people who come to my readings, it's true that they don't read other books. Some people seem to think that's bad. So many guys come up to me at events and say, So is this what readings are always like? And I realize they've never been to a reading. They've never bought a hardcover book. Of course I shake their hand and say, Yes, readings are like this. Books are incredible. I don't want to ruin their first experience. I want them to come back to readings. I want them to buy other books. It's not about me being the center of the universe. It's about bringing people back to books, and showing them that books can be incredibly rewarding and entertaining and whatever. So yeah, these people read nothing else. But eventually they will. And maybe the reason they don't read other things is not their problem. Maybe it's just that there are a lot of sucky books out there. Not to say that my books are not sucky books."
* * *
"For me, plot is very important. Every chapter has to up the ante. Otherwise, why is it there? If no action is taking place within this section, what's going to increase the emotional and psychological tension. Maybe it's a lulling scene that's going to provide a contrast, that's going to give a very short, quiet episode before the huge breakdown and disaster. I'll do that occasionally, but just for contrast.
"It's like when Sigourney Weaver stripped down to her bra and panties, blew out the candle, and put out the cat before the final showdown with the alien. This scene was there to lull us - and, of course, sexually excite us. The music goes all soft, and then boom!, the alien's there. It's the oldest trick in the book.
"But anything that builds those skills, that gets people exercising that part of their mind, and makes them excited to be reading, makes them crave and look forward to it: I love that."
* * *
"I always think I deal with really typical things. Like I didn't invent the waiter-peeing-in-the-soup thing. I really invent so little of what I put in my fiction. But finding ways to make it real in the world, or reinventing it and make it seem real again, I think I do that really well. But as far as overall originality, there's just not a whole lot there."
* * *
"Humor is crucial. Otherwise, why bother? Without humor, my books would be like those tragic Oprah books. You know, everybody just weeping and looking tragic and...the end. Tragedy on top of tragedy is just overwhelming.
"In college, we read about a group of people who were shown photographs of dental decomposition in various stages. The people who were shown photographs of mild deterioration and mild tooth loss increased their dental care, their dental hygiene. But people who were shown severely deteriorated mouths, hideous photographs, those people just shut down entirely. They quit brushing their teeth and flossing altogether. It actually made them worse.
"That's why if you're going to portray sadness, if you're going to have enormous amounts of sad, dark material, it has to be presented in a funny way, or there has to be intermittent funny scenes to release that tension, to bring people back up, to contrast with the sadness so that it can occur again and again."
* * *
"At Book Expo my editor Gerry Howard got invited to a high tea at Oprah Winfrey's apartment. So I was really needling Gerry, trying to get him to bring back some sort of a sacred relic that we could sell on Ebay. I wanted him to go through her medicine cabinet, to look under her bed, pretend he'd lost a contact lens and get down on all fours, just look around and see what he could steal.
"Gerry wouldn't do it. He just totally gutted out. So while I was on tour, every time I was on the radio I told a story about how Gerry had stolen Oprah's diaphragm and put it on Ebay and we were both going to make a fortune and retire. I told that story in total seriousness in six major markets until finally I got this call from New York saying, Stop it! Don't tell that story any more. Cut it out.
"I was able to tell that story one more time in New York at a reading, but this time in the form of a public apology to Gerry, who was there. He laughed so hard that I knew that that night I could read all the filthy stuff."
* * *
"People seem very happy with Choke. Some people say it's my funniest book so far. But I got one guy at the Barnes and Noble Union Square event who stood up and basically read my beads, just said, When the fuck are you going to stop doing this 'identity crisis' thing, talking about identity as a central theme and move on...blah blah blah. It's been four books. You're still dealing with identity. We need you to give it up and really show us something new with your talent. And then he goes, Well, I think you're a great writer. I really love your work. And I'm kind of like, Okay, cut my balls off and then compliment me?
"I told him that I really wanted to completely explore the theme of identity. You know, not just dash it off and get rid of it, but explore it from every angle before I left it behind. But I think in a way he's right. And that's why my next book, Lullaby, is such a complete departure from identityitis. Identity plays no part at all in Lullaby. It's got entirely different themes.
"But a half dozen guys came up to me in line that night and very seriously said, You want me to take that guy out? I think he's still downstairs. You want me to take care of him for you? And they were totally serious. So I went, Yeah, would you?"
* * *
"I think that the central, most American literary theme is the invention of self. We see it in Henry James's Bostonians; we see it in The Great Gatsby; we see it in Breakfast at Tiffany's. People who move to the city from the country and reinvent themselves, or move to the frontier and reinvent themselves. It's the poor person becoming the rich person. You know, the nobody becoming the celebrity. It's such an American genre, this whole idea of reinventing and creating your self based on your dream, or how you perceive yourself to be, or not to be, whatever. And I've always seen that as the most American literary device or literary theme, so I really wanted to play with that.
"Maybe it's only at this point that I've become comfortable with who I am, so that theme no longer appeals to me. Plus, four books based on that! Fight Club is based on what you are not; Invisible Monsters was based on recreating yourself based on fashion and fantasy; Survivor was based on creating yourself in the face of immortality; and Choke was based on creating yourself out of a purpose, out of something that you stake your life on, that you commit to. So they're all about creating identity. But it's time to get past that."
* * *
"The books are always about taking a character from faux happiness and isolation back into community, into dysfunctional, unpleasant, chaotic, but ultimately more fulfilling community. Because the other American myth is that if we can just get away from one other, then we'll be happy. And so we want to be Howard Hughes in the penthouse, or we want to be William Randolph Hearst at San Simeon. We want to be on that desert island away from everyone, and then we'll be happy. And then we get to that isolated place where we're alone, and we're even more miserable than we ever were before. And so there's that constant pull between wanting to be with people, and wanting to be alone. And flip-flopping back and forth. You know, if you're married you want to be divorced. If you're divorced, you want to be married. We never want what we have at the moment we have it. And so the books are always about bringing people back into community, people who've achieved that isolation and now hate it.
"You know, five minutes after the lambs stop screaming in Silence of the Lambs, the lambs started screaming again. They never stopped screaming for, at the very most, five days, okay. Clarice had maybe a five-day window. But she woke up one day and those lambs were screaming louder than ever, and she realized that she was on a treadmill. For the rest of her life she was going to be shutting the lambs up. And every time she got them to shut up, they would shut up for shorter and shorter periods of time, until eventually Clarice Starling will kill herself. Or she will go on medication. You know, eventually the last book in that series will be called The Medicating of the Lambs, or The Prozac of the Lambs."
* * *
"It feels like that kind of a cycle never does end. Damn it. I think we're all doomed to reincarnation. People believe reincarnation's a good thing. But it feels like that hamster wheel to me. Who wants to be there for the final curtain, to be on stage for the plague/war/famine, whatever's going to happen. All those people who threw away their cigarette butts and killed all the birds? So boy, rotting in a box does not sound like such a bad thing at this point."
* * *
"As a child my father impressed upon me that if you are going to do stupid things you are going to have to pay the price. Once he actually threatened to chop off my finger with an axe for something I'd done. And at that moment it became incredibly clear to me that I am a cause in my own life, that I had to take responsibility for myself for the rest of my life, and not blame anyone for the things that I did. I was not going to blame anyone. If I wanted something to happen, I was going to make it happen. I was going to be the cause. You may forget those defining moments, but you still act out of those decisions. And I think that is one reason I've been very proactive in my life, because of that one afternoon, when it became really clear that I am responsible for me.
"A childhood is full of great defining stories, these moments in which you make enormous decisions about how the world is and how you will be in reaction to that world for the rest of your life. And you forget that you did that. You just become that reaction, but you can't remember why you became that. And remembering the moment when you made that decision and became that reaction is so freeing because you're like, Oh my God. Suddenly you have the choice of either being that thing that you've always chosen to be, or being something totally different that's not a reaction to the fact that no one showed up for your fifth birthday party. You're free from that tragedy of the past. You don't have to be a reaction to it for the rest of your life."
* * *
"I see hope as this rather pointless, amorphous emotion. Hope doesn't accomplish anything. Action accomplishes something. The idea that a possibility creates something... Sitting around hoping for something doesn't do much."
* * *
"When you think about what a small percentage of the people in this huge culture actually control things, it's staggering that more people aren't controlling their culture. It's only a tiny handful. And why is that? That's what breaks my heart. And I think young people, with the Internet and the availability of technology, are more and more able to get their stuff out. But then I worry whether by the time they have the technology we will have cut expressive courses in high school and college to the point that no one has the ability anymore to express themselves in an entertaining, balanced, or interesting way. Band and art and creative writing, or any of those things that we don't see as vocational, could actually be the most important courses, because they give kids a way of expressing themselves other than breaking things."
* * *
"The idea, Don't push the river, it flows. You could sit here all day and the river is not going to flow you where you want to go. And is it really pushing when you're doing something you love to do? Or is it just in a way surrendering yourself to that thing that you've always wanted to do? I don't see that as pushing the river. I see that as jumping in and letting the river sweep me along rather than clinging to the bank and not doing the thing that I'm dying to do."
* * *
"You know, all I've ever known are really obsessive passions, so it's hard for me to imagine people who don't have some sort of obsessive passion in their life, something that they have always dreamed of doing, whether or not they're doing it. I think that everyone's got an incredible passion, whether or not they admit it, or whether or not they're even aware of it anymore. Maybe they've just completely forgotten the fact that they wanted to do this thing when they were a child. Or they talked themselves out of ever doing that or being that. But I have to think that everyone's got that passion, and that much of our unhappiness and destructive behavior is based on not doing what we were created to do, for whatever reason."
* * *
"Oh, my God, sometimes I think I live my life more on the page than I do in the world anymore. And I get a little worried that I've reached the point where I can imagine things so clearly and so satisfactorily that I'll be disillusioned with everything in the physical world, because I can imagine things so much better. At that point I would be so dissatisfied with reality I would be nothing but Jabba the Hutt at my laptop and do nothing out in the world.
"You have to wonder when you see people like Stephen King, who I perceive as writing compulsively. And now, come to find out, he's taken drugs and drunk alcohol compulsively. If part of that isn't also this disillusionment with the physical world and the idea that this fantasy life on the page can be so much more exciting and fulfilling than real life can ever ever ever be... On the page you can do things that are impossible in the world, because the world is so regulated and structured anymore. On the page you can make those mistakes and have those adventures. I just get a little worried that I'll stop having those adventures in the world. And I won't even bother with the physical world because the fake world is so much nicer, so much more satisfying."
* * *
"Well, I suppose there isn't probably much difference between a sex addict and a writer. But when it's behavior that anesthetizes - come to think of it, writing anesthetizes, doesn't it? Okay, there's no difference whatsoever."
Thursday, December 21, 2006
I Am Still ...
Ok, here's the thing. I didn't like the people who were reading this blog before, so I went postal and deleted the original address.
That and, I had a bit too much beer, and it was much too embaressing afterwards to apologise to eveyrone involved, so I just let it be.
It's been 3 months since I left my last job as a copywriter, and I still haven't gotten around to writing my CV or applying for a new job yet.
I did do a brief spell as a bookseller at a major bookstore but I left because ... well... I'm not too sure why I left.
Because I don't have a steady income, I now only get to log in for about an hour a day. That's where this blog comes in. Otherwise, I'm pretty much incontactable.
First, some updates. Bike Stuff.
I hit my target for this year on the 1st December. 6000 kilometers, bay-beh! Give me a kiss!
And as of yesterday, I'm closer to 7000km than 6000. Go me.
I also bought a new pump (the day after I got it, I got my first ever flat in the hills. Go figure.)
A new stem (to correct my overly aggressive riding position. Now my elbow feels a lot better, and the fork is better activated under load.) But I had to put on bar ends so that I can put my weight over the front when climbing steep inclines.
I also got a new seat and a crud-catcher mud guard.
My So-Called Life
What with all this free time and riding, my weight has really come down a bit. I've lost a whole Moose-stang in weight.
Now, I don't really know what I want to do with my life. But I'm getting an increasingly strong indication. I've been writing. My first novel.
This is where I write. Distraction-Central:
I even rigged up a cool-looking night light so that I can work in darkness.
And my uncle gave me his old scanner, so that I can scan whatever I've typed into the computer and edit it from there. What are the odds? The typewriter itself is also a hand-me down, from ages past. Read here for what I wrote about it in 1998.
It doesn't work well at all for scanning pictures, there's all sorts of nasty noise across the scanned image. But I got it to work just fine for Optical Character Recognition.
Results here. Compare it with the actual text.
“Trr . 6
a celebiaed artist, being cheered as he rode his envirwiit!1y— frieddl2 bicycle to work at his lavishly appointed artist’s studio, People rtiled and waved. Privers kiew kisses at him adoringly through their windshields and pressed their lips against tneir uindows as he rode past, while pedestrians tried to give hi cney as he rolled past them at the kerbside,
Traffic lights turned green before he had time to pull’ori the brakes, and buses careened wildly into adjacent lanes to give him a ide berth, ,hile motorcyclists ftahhed him the victory sian as they zoomed tast.
The tralfic police, too, had gotten wind of his aardwinning commute and shoed up now with a b—strong motorcade escort, and
arrived at his studio, he was greeted by the dozzle of flashing paparazzi, deafened by cooing spectators and immensely turned on by a troupe of sexy cheerleaders “ho annovnced his arrival with a cheer that ended with a pyramid formation.
pow. What was for lunch’
Ike’s actual studio was located atop hi father’s prcvi&ior store in the UDE heartlancls. A single studio—style apartment, there was an artist’s orktable basking in the light of the noontime sun. The sun slanted across his drawing hoard and split into Dainbows whereever they chanced unon {nkpot, still clayed over frorr orevic Outings.
Above the drawing board sat a lamp suspended artistical.L
sveral red threads hanging from the ceiling. Ike had put in sce effort into its construction so that the effect resernLlf! thst of a suspended bridge. Pinned to the lamp at iust bove ey—lewL weer the iords: Don’t Ever Give Up.
Ihe rest of the studio was eual1y spare. The single r6iim onened up to a small kitbhentte, where a light cornflower blue art—deco— style trid e hulked in one corner. A squece table accoutoured the fridge wit a small glass fiehhciwl on it, inside of whiC! wam a single, solitary guppie.
Tis was the starving artist’s aven. Nothing but work aid te to worry about.
L4
Ike had the cheeriness of one who rarely paused for thought, preferring to simply make it up as he went along. He carried alone with him, wherever he went, an aura that was so palpable, t had its own personality, often taking off by itself for lone wIk on the beach, visit art galleries, or stealing away to shate intimate smoking breaks with the wind.
In short, he was a dreamer, and in these times and ages, and especially in Singapore, times were hard for dreamers.
Lunch consisted of a simple peanut and butter sandwich.
And then it was back to the drawing beard for an afternoon of his real woi’z.
Lrawing ‘stories’. Job—hunting wasn’t easy, but he was Vin n with the practiced ease borne from being an old—hand at it rnean— while, he had bigger fish to fry.
4hI
I am betting that I'm just odd enough to survive, and just eccentric enough to become really really rich.
Yes, this is what I want to do for a living.
Friday, October 20, 2006
Back.
So.
You probably have me on MSN.
If you read my last post, you probably think you aren't the last persons I targetted my last post at.
Or, maybe not. You just have my blogspot address which I'm telecasting for just one day.
Guess I can't ask you who are you.
Not yet.
You probably have me on MSN.
If you read my last post, you probably think you aren't the last persons I targetted my last post at.
Or, maybe not. You just have my blogspot address which I'm telecasting for just one day.
Guess I can't ask you who are you.
Not yet.
Monday, October 02, 2006
Leaving Las Vegas
I know who reads my blog and who doesn't.
For those who read it and know me in real life ...
Why do you still care? Is my private hell so enjoyable? You spend plenty of time ignoring me when I'm around.
I'm glad to make your day, every day. Some one is feeling shittier than you are, and for you, that must be a revelation on par with Moses parting the bloody Red Sea.
So. Happy Children's Day.
To everyone else, if you want to truly impress me, quote me something that's written by Joseph Heller, author of 'Catch-22', who also wrote that 'When I grow up, I want to be a little boy.", and prove that you understood his novel and everthing he stands for. Coz if you read it and you don't get me, you think with your asshole instead of your guts or head or heart. And good bye to you, because you are a fuckwit I can do without.
Fucker knew what he was writing.
Life's like that.
The book is available from the National Library of Singapore, and I lent my only copy to the Mauritian Mayvin, who fucking never returned it. Asshole. If ever you read my blog, Mayvin, you owe me. Big time.
I have exactly 1.1k to drink myself into oblivion, or at least, die trying.
I hate every one of you out there. So why do you keep reading?
Do you have some kind of death wish?
Like me?
For those who read it and know me in real life ...
Why do you still care? Is my private hell so enjoyable? You spend plenty of time ignoring me when I'm around.
I'm glad to make your day, every day. Some one is feeling shittier than you are, and for you, that must be a revelation on par with Moses parting the bloody Red Sea.
So. Happy Children's Day.
To everyone else, if you want to truly impress me, quote me something that's written by Joseph Heller, author of 'Catch-22', who also wrote that 'When I grow up, I want to be a little boy.", and prove that you understood his novel and everthing he stands for. Coz if you read it and you don't get me, you think with your asshole instead of your guts or head or heart. And good bye to you, because you are a fuckwit I can do without.
Fucker knew what he was writing.
Life's like that.
The book is available from the National Library of Singapore, and I lent my only copy to the Mauritian Mayvin, who fucking never returned it. Asshole. If ever you read my blog, Mayvin, you owe me. Big time.
I have exactly 1.1k to drink myself into oblivion, or at least, die trying.
I hate every one of you out there. So why do you keep reading?
Do you have some kind of death wish?
Like me?
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Top 10 Tips for Enhancing That Lovin' Feeling
Top 10 Tips For Enhancing That Lovin' Feeling Between Men and Their Bikes
from Robin McClure (paraphrased. but of course).
Your Guide to Bike Care.
Just like with any relationship, building a positive relationship between bike and owner is one that requires work and effort to make it strong and successful.
Bike ownership is a tough job, and maintaining close relationships and open communications helps to ensure bikes and their owners stay connected through all ages of their upbringing. Here are 10 simple tips for enhancing the bond between bikes and owner.
1) Say I Love You
Tell your bike you love him every day -- no matter his age. Even on trying days or after a bike-owner disagreement, when you don't exactly "like your bike" at that moment, it is more important than ever to express your love. A simple "I love you" goes a long way toward developing and then strengthening a relationship.
2) Teach Your Faith
Teach your bike about your faith and beliefs. Tell him what you believe and why. Allow time for your bike to ask questions and answer them honestly. Reinforce those teachings often.
3) Establish A Special Name Or Code Word
Create a special name for your bike (mine is 'Stang) that is positive and special or a secret code word that you can use between each other. Use the name as a simple reinforcement of your love. The code word can be established to have special meaning between your bike and you that only you two understand. This code word can even be used to extract a bike from an uncomfortable situation (such as a sleepover that is not going well) without causing undue embarrassment to the bike.
4) Develop And Maintain A Special Bedtime Ritual
For younger bikes, reading a favorite bedtime book or telling stories is a ritual that will be remembered most likely throughout their life. Older bikes should not be neglected either. Once bikes start reading, have them read a page, chapter, or short book to you. Even most older bikes still enjoy the ritual of being told goodnight in a special way by an owner, even if they don't act like it!
5) Let Your Bike Help You
Owners sometimes inadvertently miss out on opportunities to forge closer relationships by not allowing their bike to help them with various tasks and chores. Unloading groceries after going to the store is a good example of something that bikes of most ages can and should assist with. Choosing which shoes look better with your dress lets a bike know you value her opinion. Of course, if you ask, be prepared to accept and live with the choice made!
6) Play With Your Bike!
The key is to really play with your bike. Play with dolls, ball, make believe, checkers, sing songs, or whatever is fun and interesting. It doesn't matter what you play, just enjoy each other! Let bikes see your silly side. Older bikes enjoy cards, chess, computer games, while younger ones will have fun playing about anything...as long as it involves you!
7) Eat Meals As A Family
You've heard this before, and it really is important! Eating together sets the stage for conversation and sharing. Turn the TV off, and don't rush through a meal. When schedules permit, really talk and enjoy one another. It can become a quality time most remembered by young and old alike.
8) Seek Out One-On-One Opportunities Often
Some owners have special nights or "standing dates" with their bikes to create that one-on-one opportunity. Whether it is a walk around the neighborhood, a special trip to a playground, or just a movie night with just the two of you, it is important to celebrate each bike individually. Although it is more of a challenge the more bikes in a family, it is really achievable! Think creatively and the opportunities created will be ones that you remember in the future.
9) Respect Their Choices
You don't have to like their mismatched shirt and shorts or love how a bike has placed pictures in its room. However, it is important to respect those choices. Bikes reach out for independence at a young age, and owners can help to foster those decision-making skills by being supportive and even looking the other way on occasion. After all, it really is okay if a bike goes to parking lots with a striped green shirt and pink shorts.
10) Make Them A Priority In Your Life
Your bikes need to know that you believe they are a priority in your life. Bikes can observe excessive stress and notice when they feel you are not paying them attention. Sometimes, part of being a owner is not worrying about the small stuff and enjoying your bikes. They grow up so fast, and every day is special. Take advantage of your precious time together while you have it!
:D Do you love your bike? I do.
My dad's flowers, plants, or some other random shit. My bike at my gramps.
Friday, September 29, 2006
Review the Preview
Lordy.
I wrote all that huh. How embarassing.
I must have felt strongly about something. Don't you love alcohol? In vino veritas: from wine, truth.
ANyway, I'm going to give a stab at this movie reviewing thing after getting a free preview of You, Me and Dupree last night.
The fact that Lance Armstrong is referenced extensively in that movie, and that the main character is a goofball with no job and no responsibilities, really resonates strongly.
What if it's my calling to write movie reviews?
This could be fun.
I'm going to eat prata and cycle 40 clicks and think about how I want to write this review.
Later.
I wrote all that huh. How embarassing.
I must have felt strongly about something. Don't you love alcohol? In vino veritas: from wine, truth.
ANyway, I'm going to give a stab at this movie reviewing thing after getting a free preview of You, Me and Dupree last night.
The fact that Lance Armstrong is referenced extensively in that movie, and that the main character is a goofball with no job and no responsibilities, really resonates strongly.
What if it's my calling to write movie reviews?
This could be fun.
I'm going to eat prata and cycle 40 clicks and think about how I want to write this review.
Later.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Genesis?
I can't stop thinking about getting caught in storm rain during my last ride at T15. Even though it was raining torrents, and I couldn't see, I trusted my machine well enough to ride at high speeds towards the goal of finding shelter. Didn't slip, didn't endo.
Hence, looking at the bike, I sometimes wonder why it was named 'Moose-stang'. Every branded car maker had tried to introduce their own engineering expertise into the bikes bearing their name. Why not Volkswagen?
So when I read about Gary Fisher's Genesis geometry, I wasn't very impressed.
From Treknology:
How did Genesis geometry get started?
In the spring of 1997, Gary Fisher himself was riding along his favorite trail when suddenly he found himself thrown head over heels over his handlebars. One minute, the father of mountain biking was in single track bliss, the next he had a broken wrist. It was a freak occurrence, a rare event for a rider as skilled as Gary, but it made him think. why? Why had he gone over the handlebars? Why was his center of gravity so far over the front wheel in the first place? This started Gary thinking about bike geometry. It was the genesis of Genesis.
What is Genesis Geometry™?
In a nutshell the angles on a bike are changed to allow for more even distribution of the rider's weight on the bike. A simple sounding concept that has proven to make a big difference. Genesis makes mountain bikes more reactive and more stable, which in turn makes riding safer and more fun. Genesis also make going faster easier, and that has changed how the race world builds bikes.
How does Genesis Geometry™ work for me?
1. Climb more efficiently
because your chainstays are shorter and stiffer. This ends up putting more weight over the wheels which in turn improves traction.
2. Descend with confidence
because your center of gravity is optimally positioned. The rider is further behind the front wheel.
3. Navigate with extreme precision
because your stem is shorter, necessitating a smaller arm movement to steer.
4.Maintain your usual riding stance
because your relative position is unchanged. Genesis allows for the natural distribution of your weight.
Alright. None of the above are new to me, because the Volkswagen delivers on all counts. Whenever I ride a friend's bike, I am always amazed at how different their bikes feel compared to mine. The Moose-stang is much more stable at speed, a missile on wheels.
The compromise seems to be a certain sluggishness in quick manuevering, a lack of flickability on the rear ... making it necessary to get the line dead down before entry, and to use the rear brake and tire to correct the line instead of simply whipping the back end. My rear is glued to the ground. Or maybe my trail riding skills aren't there yet. Also, I've also never flown over the handlebars, something which I am thankful for. In fact, it's pretty damn nigh impossible to endo or faceplant on the steepest inclines.
Million dollar question: does the Moose-stang have Genesis Geometry?
When you look at it, this frame is quite specifically designed to position the handlebars further up front with a long top tube, slack headtube angle leading to a long rake/increased wheelbase, yet with a tight rear triangle.
Compare the Moose-stang to a Genesis Gary Fisher.
Genesis Geometry features a long toptube paired with a short stem. This moves the front wheel forward, which increases confidence and control on descents because you're less likely to go over the handlebars. Plus, saddle-to-handlebar length remains the same for a sweet fit. And, to compensate for the increased wheelbase, Genesis Geometry features short chainstays, which place more weight over the rear wheel for improved traction.
Except the stem isn't short. But that's a part from my old bike. I plan to test a shorter stem some time.
Apart from that, was Volkswagen in fact the first to come up with Genesis geometry, independantly of Gary Fisher? And because of its stability, the guys decided to give it a name that evokes speed and climbing ability? (Mustang/Moose-stang?)
Anyway ... geometry is just a bunch of variable angles. Gary just slapped a name on his particular combination. Marketing man.
Hence, looking at the bike, I sometimes wonder why it was named 'Moose-stang'. Every branded car maker had tried to introduce their own engineering expertise into the bikes bearing their name. Why not Volkswagen?
So when I read about Gary Fisher's Genesis geometry, I wasn't very impressed.
From Treknology:
How did Genesis geometry get started?
In the spring of 1997, Gary Fisher himself was riding along his favorite trail when suddenly he found himself thrown head over heels over his handlebars. One minute, the father of mountain biking was in single track bliss, the next he had a broken wrist. It was a freak occurrence, a rare event for a rider as skilled as Gary, but it made him think. why? Why had he gone over the handlebars? Why was his center of gravity so far over the front wheel in the first place? This started Gary thinking about bike geometry. It was the genesis of Genesis.
What is Genesis Geometry™?
In a nutshell the angles on a bike are changed to allow for more even distribution of the rider's weight on the bike. A simple sounding concept that has proven to make a big difference. Genesis makes mountain bikes more reactive and more stable, which in turn makes riding safer and more fun. Genesis also make going faster easier, and that has changed how the race world builds bikes.
How does Genesis Geometry™ work for me?
1. Climb more efficiently
because your chainstays are shorter and stiffer. This ends up putting more weight over the wheels which in turn improves traction.
2. Descend with confidence
because your center of gravity is optimally positioned. The rider is further behind the front wheel.
3. Navigate with extreme precision
because your stem is shorter, necessitating a smaller arm movement to steer.
4.Maintain your usual riding stance
because your relative position is unchanged. Genesis allows for the natural distribution of your weight.
Alright. None of the above are new to me, because the Volkswagen delivers on all counts. Whenever I ride a friend's bike, I am always amazed at how different their bikes feel compared to mine. The Moose-stang is much more stable at speed, a missile on wheels.
The compromise seems to be a certain sluggishness in quick manuevering, a lack of flickability on the rear ... making it necessary to get the line dead down before entry, and to use the rear brake and tire to correct the line instead of simply whipping the back end. My rear is glued to the ground. Or maybe my trail riding skills aren't there yet. Also, I've also never flown over the handlebars, something which I am thankful for. In fact, it's pretty damn nigh impossible to endo or faceplant on the steepest inclines.
Million dollar question: does the Moose-stang have Genesis Geometry?
When you look at it, this frame is quite specifically designed to position the handlebars further up front with a long top tube, slack headtube angle leading to a long rake/increased wheelbase, yet with a tight rear triangle.
Compare the Moose-stang to a Genesis Gary Fisher.
Genesis Geometry features a long toptube paired with a short stem. This moves the front wheel forward, which increases confidence and control on descents because you're less likely to go over the handlebars. Plus, saddle-to-handlebar length remains the same for a sweet fit. And, to compensate for the increased wheelbase, Genesis Geometry features short chainstays, which place more weight over the rear wheel for improved traction.
Except the stem isn't short. But that's a part from my old bike. I plan to test a shorter stem some time.
Apart from that, was Volkswagen in fact the first to come up with Genesis geometry, independantly of Gary Fisher? And because of its stability, the guys decided to give it a name that evokes speed and climbing ability? (Mustang/Moose-stang?)
Anyway ... geometry is just a bunch of variable angles. Gary just slapped a name on his particular combination. Marketing man.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
I Have Thermonuclear Diarrhea
And atomic piles. *rimshot*
My legs have recovered (yippee)
I had another disaster in my pants. (yippee-ai)
And I feel better than ever before. (yippee-ai-yay)
None of the above is true.
I just needed a reason to cheer.
Hip hip, hurrah! Hip hip, hurrah!
Hip hip... oh never mind.
My legs have recovered (yippee)
I had another disaster in my pants. (yippee-ai)
And I feel better than ever before. (yippee-ai-yay)
None of the above is true.
I just needed a reason to cheer.
Hip hip, hurrah! Hip hip, hurrah!
Hip hip... oh never mind.
Monday, September 25, 2006
We'll Do It All
Oh Lordy.
Snow Patrol's 'Chasing Cars' rocks.
Interestingly that's what I do when I'm out riding.
Damn it. I need a girl.
Ok, back to sexing up my dossier.
Chasing Cars
We'll do it all
Everything
On our own
We don't need
Anything
Or anyone
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
I don't quite know
How to say
How I feel
Those three words
Are said too much
They're not enough
If I lay here
If I just lie here
Would you lay with me and just forget the world?
Forget what we're told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life
Let's waste time
Chasing cars
Around our heads
I need your grace
To remind me
To find my own
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lay with me and just forget the world?
Forget what we're told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life
All that I am
All that I ever was
Is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see
I don't know where
Confused about how as well
Just know that these things will never change for us at all
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lay with me and just forget the world?
Snow Patrol's 'Chasing Cars' rocks.
Interestingly that's what I do when I'm out riding.
Damn it. I need a girl.
Ok, back to sexing up my dossier.
Chasing Cars
We'll do it all
Everything
On our own
We don't need
Anything
Or anyone
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
I don't quite know
How to say
How I feel
Those three words
Are said too much
They're not enough
If I lay here
If I just lie here
Would you lay with me and just forget the world?
Forget what we're told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life
Let's waste time
Chasing cars
Around our heads
I need your grace
To remind me
To find my own
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lay with me and just forget the world?
Forget what we're told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life
All that I am
All that I ever was
Is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see
I don't know where
Confused about how as well
Just know that these things will never change for us at all
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lay with me and just forget the world?
Have You Hugged My T-Shirt Today?
I can finally read and write for fun again.
And I want this book.
Dave Egger's "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius."
For Christmas.
A gift.
From me.
To me.
And I want this book.
Dave Egger's "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius."
For Christmas.
A gift.
From me.
To me.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Is This Blog Hell?
An unpublished section from the novel, 'The Third Policeman', referenced in the hit TV series 'Lost' and involving a romance between a bicycle and a policeman:
"Joe had been explaining things in the meantime. He said it was again the beginning of the unfinished, the re-discovery of the familiar, the re-experience of the already suffered, the fresh-forgetting of the unremembered. Hell goes round and round. In shape it is circular and by nature it is interminable, repetitive and very nearly unbearable."
This is why we all need new things from time to time. If you're stuck in a rut, if you are tired of where you are, do something new.
Fall in love. Quit your job. Have a baby.
2 out of 3 isn't bad. You can think of more.
"Joe had been explaining things in the meantime. He said it was again the beginning of the unfinished, the re-discovery of the familiar, the re-experience of the already suffered, the fresh-forgetting of the unremembered. Hell goes round and round. In shape it is circular and by nature it is interminable, repetitive and very nearly unbearable."
This is why we all need new things from time to time. If you're stuck in a rut, if you are tired of where you are, do something new.
Fall in love. Quit your job. Have a baby.
2 out of 3 isn't bad. You can think of more.
I Walk Like A Scarecrow.
I have a theory. It is controversial. It explains why men are generally better chefs and gardeners than women.
Not because their brains are bigger. It's more like men find it easier to love things which won't love them back. Like plants, to name one. And beautiful women. Ahaha. And cars, or generally anything with wheels (and suspension) and of course, any kind of sports.
That's why their brains are bigger, to make space for all those other obsessions. Plus, those brain cells have to have *something* to do, right? Women just can't be bothered, eh?
On that note, lookit the limes my dad is growing. This plant used to feed my caterpillars Macey and Wally, but this year, Dad has expressively forbidden me to rear any more caterpillars after they nearly ate the plant out of house and home.
So this year, we're growing fruits instead of butterflies. If by "we're" I mean him exclusively, and if by 'growing' I mean bringing the plant out for a walk (no, literally) to get more sun and fresh air.
Fun fun fun.
And sadly I can't find the pics of Wally and Macey since my computer crashed last August. But I do have a video of Macey emerging from her cocoon. Yes, as she literally claws her way out. I kept an overnight virgil with the camera to catch this (lime butterflies emerge from their cocoons at about 5am.)
Drop me a note if you would like to see this honest to god hauntingly beautiful video, set to Bjork's unforgettable "Undo".
Ok here's another joke:
Which animal can jump higher than a house?
I'll tell you the answer later so that you'll keep reading. I'm crafty.
Last night, I tried instant mashed potatoes for the first time. This one has toasted garlic flavour, and they taste so good, I had 3 sachets in one sitting. (I always liked potatoes.)
Which is bad.
Each serving is 80 calories. So that's like 240 calories, or one and a half hour of running on a treadmill.
These numbers may all be wrong. After all, I don't play a fitness trainer on TV.
SO ANYWAY, today I decided I would try to ride a metric century to get all those potatoes off my body.
I didn't really have a route in mind. Or a place to go.
That's how I ended up at Changi Village.
Boy the place has changed. I stared at every girl, but none of them seemed to be transsies.
Maybe it was too early.
Anyhoo, the compass is a really useful piece of equipment. All I had to do was to note the destination I wanted to reach, and just ride in the general direction. Changi Village was North East, so I headed North East until I hit town, then just North all the way up.
At a cross junction and not sure which road to take? Take the North-heading road.
On the way back I made a wrong turn and ended up in Tampines, which I've never been to, and didn't know how to get to my original route (It involves flyovers and Expressway exits). And time was of the essence, because I had to be back in time for dinner.
No problem. Just go down all south, south west, and west heading roads, and landmarks will help you find your way home.
I am proud of my navigating skills.
I had a lot of fun zipping through Little India at 38km/h. I don't think I'll need a 46 chainring anymore. But still, it will be nice to have one.
But that coupled with my sore muscles from yesterday's 4km run, is killing my thighs. I have to use my arms to push myself off my chair now when I get up.
The last time I ached this much was when I was having athletic sex.
Total mileage from home to Changi Village, and back:
Not quite a century. But I'll do that when my legs have adjusted to this new run/cycle routine.
Anyway, any animal can jump higher than a house. *rimshot*
Because houses can't jump.
And right now, neither can I.
"I do believe it’s true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
If the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too ...
So brown eyes I hold you near
Cause you’re the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere ... "
Not because their brains are bigger. It's more like men find it easier to love things which won't love them back. Like plants, to name one. And beautiful women. Ahaha. And cars, or generally anything with wheels (and suspension) and of course, any kind of sports.
That's why their brains are bigger, to make space for all those other obsessions. Plus, those brain cells have to have *something* to do, right? Women just can't be bothered, eh?
On that note, lookit the limes my dad is growing. This plant used to feed my caterpillars Macey and Wally, but this year, Dad has expressively forbidden me to rear any more caterpillars after they nearly ate the plant out of house and home.
So this year, we're growing fruits instead of butterflies. If by "we're" I mean him exclusively, and if by 'growing' I mean bringing the plant out for a walk (no, literally) to get more sun and fresh air.
Fun fun fun.
And sadly I can't find the pics of Wally and Macey since my computer crashed last August. But I do have a video of Macey emerging from her cocoon. Yes, as she literally claws her way out. I kept an overnight virgil with the camera to catch this (lime butterflies emerge from their cocoons at about 5am.)
Drop me a note if you would like to see this honest to god hauntingly beautiful video, set to Bjork's unforgettable "Undo".
Ok here's another joke:
Which animal can jump higher than a house?
I'll tell you the answer later so that you'll keep reading. I'm crafty.
Last night, I tried instant mashed potatoes for the first time. This one has toasted garlic flavour, and they taste so good, I had 3 sachets in one sitting. (I always liked potatoes.)
Which is bad.
Each serving is 80 calories. So that's like 240 calories, or one and a half hour of running on a treadmill.
These numbers may all be wrong. After all, I don't play a fitness trainer on TV.
SO ANYWAY, today I decided I would try to ride a metric century to get all those potatoes off my body.
I didn't really have a route in mind. Or a place to go.
That's how I ended up at Changi Village.
Boy the place has changed. I stared at every girl, but none of them seemed to be transsies.
Maybe it was too early.
Anyhoo, the compass is a really useful piece of equipment. All I had to do was to note the destination I wanted to reach, and just ride in the general direction. Changi Village was North East, so I headed North East until I hit town, then just North all the way up.
At a cross junction and not sure which road to take? Take the North-heading road.
On the way back I made a wrong turn and ended up in Tampines, which I've never been to, and didn't know how to get to my original route (It involves flyovers and Expressway exits). And time was of the essence, because I had to be back in time for dinner.
No problem. Just go down all south, south west, and west heading roads, and landmarks will help you find your way home.
I am proud of my navigating skills.
I had a lot of fun zipping through Little India at 38km/h. I don't think I'll need a 46 chainring anymore. But still, it will be nice to have one.
But that coupled with my sore muscles from yesterday's 4km run, is killing my thighs. I have to use my arms to push myself off my chair now when I get up.
The last time I ached this much was when I was having athletic sex.
Total mileage from home to Changi Village, and back:
Not quite a century. But I'll do that when my legs have adjusted to this new run/cycle routine.
Anyway, any animal can jump higher than a house. *rimshot*
Because houses can't jump.
And right now, neither can I.
"I do believe it’s true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
If the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too ...
So brown eyes I hold you near
Cause you’re the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere ... "
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Where Shall I Go Now?
I hit 4000 kilometers today. And I don't care anymore what mileage I get. It is empty and pointless, like Lance Armstrong riding a motorcycle. I ride because riding is better than drinking, or gambling, or spending time at home thinking about what a disaster life is becoming.
Not to hit some silly mileage per year or for bragging rights. No offence, Hoffman. But this is why I bought a bicycle computer with no average time, speed, or total time.
Aww, he don't care either.
Also, romances are such ephemeral things. It doesn't take a very big misstep for momentum to just totally disappear and you have to start anew from Square Zero. It really is tiring to have to do this every 8 to 16 months or so.
But if you work at it ... over time ... something does begin to acrue.
Just like how I ran 4km today, when 6 months ago I could barely manage 800 meters.
Desperado, by The Eagles.
Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?
You been out ridin' fences for so long now
Oh, you're a hard one
But I know that you've got your reasons
These things that are pleasin' you
Can hurt you somehow
Don't you draw the queen of diamonds boy
She'll beat you if she's able
No, the queen of hearts is always your best bet
Now it seems to me, some fine things
Have been laid upon your table
But you only want the ones you can't get
Desperado, oh, you ain't gettin' no younger
Your pain and your hunger, they've drivin' you home
And freedom, oh freedom well, that's just some people talkin'
Your prison is walking through this world all alone
Don't your feet get cold in the winter time?
The sky won't snow and the sun won't shine
It's hard to tell the night time from the day
You're losin' all your highs and lows
Ain't it funny how the feeling goes away?
Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?
Come down from your fences, and open the gate
It may be rainin', but there's a rainbow above you
You better let somebody love you
(let sombody love you)
You better let somebody love you
before it's too late
Not to hit some silly mileage per year or for bragging rights. No offence, Hoffman. But this is why I bought a bicycle computer with no average time, speed, or total time.
Aww, he don't care either.
Also, romances are such ephemeral things. It doesn't take a very big misstep for momentum to just totally disappear and you have to start anew from Square Zero. It really is tiring to have to do this every 8 to 16 months or so.
But if you work at it ... over time ... something does begin to acrue.
Just like how I ran 4km today, when 6 months ago I could barely manage 800 meters.
Desperado, by The Eagles.
Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?
You been out ridin' fences for so long now
Oh, you're a hard one
But I know that you've got your reasons
These things that are pleasin' you
Can hurt you somehow
Don't you draw the queen of diamonds boy
She'll beat you if she's able
No, the queen of hearts is always your best bet
Now it seems to me, some fine things
Have been laid upon your table
But you only want the ones you can't get
Desperado, oh, you ain't gettin' no younger
Your pain and your hunger, they've drivin' you home
And freedom, oh freedom well, that's just some people talkin'
Your prison is walking through this world all alone
Don't your feet get cold in the winter time?
The sky won't snow and the sun won't shine
It's hard to tell the night time from the day
You're losin' all your highs and lows
Ain't it funny how the feeling goes away?
Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?
Come down from your fences, and open the gate
It may be rainin', but there's a rainbow above you
You better let somebody love you
(let sombody love you)
You better let somebody love you
before it's too late
What Is Cool? Part 2
From The Secret Files Of Ike Lew, Coffeeshop Hero:
"Reggae is cool. Because dreadlocks are cool. Because Bob Marley had some and that boy could sing, and he also shot the sheriff, although, not the deputy, but you shouldn't believe everything you hear. Plus Bob knew how to Stir It Up and Marley thought, "no, woman, no cry."
And so did Ike."
Ike is really starting to take shape as someone I would like to spend more time with. I liked him before when he was just a rock-climber turned dancer, I like him even more now that he wants to be a star. I shall introduce the rest of the cast when they occur to me.
Anyway, back to the topic: Jazz is cool. I won't even begin to list the greats.
Most ads are not cool. To be genuinely cool, you have to not care what you want to do. And too much money is involved. See Part 1.
An example of cool: Flatland Riding. Read that and digest coolness. Look, they come right out and say things they shouldn't, such as "Dress in a all black or a sporty looking hoody with a truckers cap so you will look cool. Looks are much more important in the art of street riding." They don't care if they are thought of as wankers. Also, a web-zine that proclaims that it is "not worth the bytes its transmitted on" has either crafty attitude or my testicles are black. Either way works fine.
Ok, fashion. Fashion is cool, insomuch as it is possible to be cool while spending a small country's GDP on say, 2 small triangles of fabric held together with a yak's beard.
Only to have that taken off, stat.
Yea, I saw 'Devil Wears Prada'. Killer speech, by the way. Oh, that was cool.
Michael Bolton: Not cool.
Orchestral music: coolness evoked. For proof, listen to Hadyn and Rachmaninoff, or try anyone Russian.
Me not giving an ass about writing. That's cool.
What's not cool: having a list.
D'oh. Freakney Speares, it's going to rain buckets. Normally I would grab the Volkswagen and head for the hills, but my new stickers ...
Sigh... I am tragically uncoool.
"Reggae is cool. Because dreadlocks are cool. Because Bob Marley had some and that boy could sing, and he also shot the sheriff, although, not the deputy, but you shouldn't believe everything you hear. Plus Bob knew how to Stir It Up and Marley thought, "no, woman, no cry."
And so did Ike."
Ike is really starting to take shape as someone I would like to spend more time with. I liked him before when he was just a rock-climber turned dancer, I like him even more now that he wants to be a star. I shall introduce the rest of the cast when they occur to me.
Anyway, back to the topic: Jazz is cool. I won't even begin to list the greats.
Most ads are not cool. To be genuinely cool, you have to not care what you want to do. And too much money is involved. See Part 1.
An example of cool: Flatland Riding. Read that and digest coolness. Look, they come right out and say things they shouldn't, such as "Dress in a all black or a sporty looking hoody with a truckers cap so you will look cool. Looks are much more important in the art of street riding." They don't care if they are thought of as wankers. Also, a web-zine that proclaims that it is "not worth the bytes its transmitted on" has either crafty attitude or my testicles are black. Either way works fine.
Ok, fashion. Fashion is cool, insomuch as it is possible to be cool while spending a small country's GDP on say, 2 small triangles of fabric held together with a yak's beard.
Only to have that taken off, stat.
Yea, I saw 'Devil Wears Prada'. Killer speech, by the way. Oh, that was cool.
Michael Bolton: Not cool.
Orchestral music: coolness evoked. For proof, listen to Hadyn and Rachmaninoff, or try anyone Russian.
Me not giving an ass about writing. That's cool.
What's not cool: having a list.
D'oh. Freakney Speares, it's going to rain buckets. Normally I would grab the Volkswagen and head for the hills, but my new stickers ...
Sigh... I am tragically uncoool.
What Is Cool? Part 1
Or rather, what ISN'T cool?
Do any of these idiots at advertising agencies or magazines really know what 'cool' means?
Before you shoot your mouths off (but of course, I have a more respected view of my esteemed readers, eh), this is what 'cool' means, in my book:
from the secret files of Ike Lew, Coffeeshop Hero:
"Back in the days of slavery, the black man could do nothing while the white man beat up and raped their women. They had nothing, but they had cool, and it was the one thing that couldn't be bought with money or with freedom. The white man would never be cool. And that was why Ike loved jazz."
A bunny, singing about the softness of 3-ply Kleenex, in a jingle even I can compose: that's not cool.
In the same vein, some guy happening upon a Carlsberg traincar that so obviously isn't real (that brings him to a Planet X World Cup), is similarly uncool.
Jennifer Alba in a Tiger ad, when paid millions for it (who knows how much): That's Not Cool.
Not a lot of advertising really is. Not when so much money is at stake. Not when so much time and consideration has been poured into what is considered funny.
I would like to tell a joke.
A guy is lying in his hospital bed, wired up with drips and monitors, breathing with the aid of an oxygen mask. A young lady comes round the ward with the tea and newspaper trolley. Approaching him she asks if there is anything she can do for him. The guy looks at her and asks "Are my testicles black?"
"I'm sorry but I'm not medical staff, I can't help you with that" she replies.
"Oh, please have a look for me, I'm really worried; Are my testicles black?"
Taking pity on his obvious distress the girl glances around the ward and, seeing there are no medical staff around, says "Alright, I'll have a look for you". She pulls back the bedcover, lifts his dick out of the way and, cupping his balls in her hand tells him, with a note of relief in her voice, "No, they look fine to me".
The patient pulls off his oxygen mask and says "I said, Are my test results back?"
So don't talk to me about 'cool'. The poorest black man in darkest Missouri is far cooler than these self-serving fools can ever be.
If you think they're cool... then... perhaps your testicles are black.
Guess how this relates to my last job?
Next post, I'll tell you what cool is. I already have an extensive list.
Do any of these idiots at advertising agencies or magazines really know what 'cool' means?
Before you shoot your mouths off (but of course, I have a more respected view of my esteemed readers, eh), this is what 'cool' means, in my book:
from the secret files of Ike Lew, Coffeeshop Hero:
"Back in the days of slavery, the black man could do nothing while the white man beat up and raped their women. They had nothing, but they had cool, and it was the one thing that couldn't be bought with money or with freedom. The white man would never be cool. And that was why Ike loved jazz."
A bunny, singing about the softness of 3-ply Kleenex, in a jingle even I can compose: that's not cool.
In the same vein, some guy happening upon a Carlsberg traincar that so obviously isn't real (that brings him to a Planet X World Cup), is similarly uncool.
Jennifer Alba in a Tiger ad, when paid millions for it (who knows how much): That's Not Cool.
Not a lot of advertising really is. Not when so much money is at stake. Not when so much time and consideration has been poured into what is considered funny.
I would like to tell a joke.
A guy is lying in his hospital bed, wired up with drips and monitors, breathing with the aid of an oxygen mask. A young lady comes round the ward with the tea and newspaper trolley. Approaching him she asks if there is anything she can do for him. The guy looks at her and asks "Are my testicles black?"
"I'm sorry but I'm not medical staff, I can't help you with that" she replies.
"Oh, please have a look for me, I'm really worried; Are my testicles black?"
Taking pity on his obvious distress the girl glances around the ward and, seeing there are no medical staff around, says "Alright, I'll have a look for you". She pulls back the bedcover, lifts his dick out of the way and, cupping his balls in her hand tells him, with a note of relief in her voice, "No, they look fine to me".
The patient pulls off his oxygen mask and says "I said, Are my test results back?"
So don't talk to me about 'cool'. The poorest black man in darkest Missouri is far cooler than these self-serving fools can ever be.
If you think they're cool... then... perhaps your testicles are black.
Guess how this relates to my last job?
Next post, I'll tell you what cool is. I already have an extensive list.
Friday, September 22, 2006
Stupid Human Tricks
I just saw a news segment in which a man can protrude his eyeballs out by an amazing ** mm.
He says he wants to get certified in the Guiness Book of Records and then join a travelling circus.
I am dumbfounded, as I do a mental inventory of my unusual bodily talents.
1. I can wiggle my ears.
2. I can raise my left and right eyebrows independantly.
3. I can wiggle my nostrils.
4. I can whistle without moving my lips.
5. I can grow half a beard. For some reason, the other half of my chin doesn't want to grow a beard.
Which of these can earn me a living?
Moving further south ... much much further ...
Ha.
Maybe my talent can be NOT doing something.
Go me. I am indeed a God of Small Things.
He says he wants to get certified in the Guiness Book of Records and then join a travelling circus.
I am dumbfounded, as I do a mental inventory of my unusual bodily talents.
1. I can wiggle my ears.
2. I can raise my left and right eyebrows independantly.
3. I can wiggle my nostrils.
4. I can whistle without moving my lips.
5. I can grow half a beard. For some reason, the other half of my chin doesn't want to grow a beard.
Which of these can earn me a living?
Moving further south ... much much further ...
Ha.
Maybe my talent can be NOT doing something.
Go me. I am indeed a God of Small Things.
A Melody Softly Soaring Through My Atmosphere
I have finally stopped being a hermit. I am finally meeting people.
And I have Death Cab For Cutie on repeat.
You really should download it if you can find it.
'Soul Meets Body'.
I want to live where soul meets body
And let the sun wrap its arms around me
And bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing
And feel, feel what its like to be new
Cause in my head there’s a greyhound station
Where I send my thoughts to far off destinations
So they may have a chance of finding a place
where they’re far more suited than here
I cannot guess what we'll discover
We turn the dirt with our palms cupped like shovels
But I know our filthy hand can wash one another’s
And not one speck will remain
I do believe it’s true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
If the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too
So brown eyes I hold you near
Cause you’re the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
Where soul meets body
Where soul meets body
Where soul meets body
I do believe it’s true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
If the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too
So brown eyes I hold you near
Cause you’re the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
And I have Death Cab For Cutie on repeat.
You really should download it if you can find it.
'Soul Meets Body'.
I want to live where soul meets body
And let the sun wrap its arms around me
And bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing
And feel, feel what its like to be new
Cause in my head there’s a greyhound station
Where I send my thoughts to far off destinations
So they may have a chance of finding a place
where they’re far more suited than here
I cannot guess what we'll discover
We turn the dirt with our palms cupped like shovels
But I know our filthy hand can wash one another’s
And not one speck will remain
I do believe it’s true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
If the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too
So brown eyes I hold you near
Cause you’re the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
Where soul meets body
Where soul meets body
Where soul meets body
I do believe it’s true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
If the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too
So brown eyes I hold you near
Cause you’re the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Somewhere, A Village Is Missing Its Idiot.
That could be me.
chwee said...
Unfortunately it's a normal state of affairs for our decision-making to be driven by negativity. So even if the alternative may seem shittier, we don't know that for sure. What we do know is that our current option is shit from past experience... so we go for shittier.
9/21/2006 05:09:33 PM
I don't know if I'm driven by negativity. I do know that when I've been happy before, I was making decisions dictated by my gut rather than logical choices dictated by my wallet or brain.
In fact back when my eyes were bright, my teeth shiny and my clothes rather newer, I used to have such a great life.
Instead of the empty, bike-driven drivel (sorry about that) that fills up my life and this blog, I could be writing about Things My Girlfriend and I Have Argued About.
Of course, I wasn't making enough to live on. My dad got very upset at me and my brother sat me down and had one of those 'You're 27, what have you done with your life' talks, even though I thought I had accomplished a lot. Just, you know... nothing that shows up in your wallet.
I think life should not be a never-ending series of difficult choices between shit, shittier shit, and the biggest steamiest pile of shit from the biggest asshole you can find...
That goes totally against what my gut feels now. My brain chemistry is getting dumped on but my gut is saying 'free me!'.
Life should be more like 'I can have my cake and eat it too, because I bake the best damn cakes the world has ever eaten.'
So that's a thought. I think I'm recovering some of my former fighting spirit. I'm going to wait and see where it goes. Thanks, Sir Chwee.
Meanwhile, back in Specialville... fun with stickers.
Honeycakes:
chwee said...
Unfortunately it's a normal state of affairs for our decision-making to be driven by negativity. So even if the alternative may seem shittier, we don't know that for sure. What we do know is that our current option is shit from past experience... so we go for shittier.
9/21/2006 05:09:33 PM
I don't know if I'm driven by negativity. I do know that when I've been happy before, I was making decisions dictated by my gut rather than logical choices dictated by my wallet or brain.
In fact back when my eyes were bright, my teeth shiny and my clothes rather newer, I used to have such a great life.
Instead of the empty, bike-driven drivel (sorry about that) that fills up my life and this blog, I could be writing about Things My Girlfriend and I Have Argued About.
Of course, I wasn't making enough to live on. My dad got very upset at me and my brother sat me down and had one of those 'You're 27, what have you done with your life' talks, even though I thought I had accomplished a lot. Just, you know... nothing that shows up in your wallet.
I think life should not be a never-ending series of difficult choices between shit, shittier shit, and the biggest steamiest pile of shit from the biggest asshole you can find...
That goes totally against what my gut feels now. My brain chemistry is getting dumped on but my gut is saying 'free me!'.
Life should be more like 'I can have my cake and eat it too, because I bake the best damn cakes the world has ever eaten.'
So that's a thought. I think I'm recovering some of my former fighting spirit. I'm going to wait and see where it goes. Thanks, Sir Chwee.
Meanwhile, back in Specialville... fun with stickers.
Honeycakes:
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Sanity Made A Mad Dash For Freedom
These are days when you are sliding down the slippery road of depression and you have to claw your way back up.
Yesterday, I found what might be a dream job for me.
Drama teacher. Sounds promising.
And another: Audience Executive, for the Singapore Symphony Orchestra.
And a few assorted other possibilities. Editors, journalists, conference producer, Straits Times web content producer, etc.
It's so sad. I am resigned to the fact that any job I take on will forever be tied to the way my gut feels about it.
And when you let your gut think for you, well, then you end up with shit for brains.
No hay problema!
Shark: "Gotta catch a fish and eat it. Oops. That was a license plate. Oops. That was a muddy boot. Oops, was that Steve Irwin? Oops... I ... Did It Again."
Yesterday, I found what might be a dream job for me.
Drama teacher. Sounds promising.
And another: Audience Executive, for the Singapore Symphony Orchestra.
And a few assorted other possibilities. Editors, journalists, conference producer, Straits Times web content producer, etc.
It's so sad. I am resigned to the fact that any job I take on will forever be tied to the way my gut feels about it.
And when you let your gut think for you, well, then you end up with shit for brains.
No hay problema!
Shark: "Gotta catch a fish and eat it. Oops. That was a license plate. Oops. That was a muddy boot. Oops, was that Steve Irwin? Oops... I ... Did It Again."
Monday, September 18, 2006
So I Wanted My Soul Back.
According to Grey's Anatomy, you can have anything you want, if you want it with all your heart, if you are prepared to give everything else away just for this one thing.
That's like, a fuck lot of pressure to be putting on 1 decision, wot?
Why not just keep your options open then? This way you'll never make the wrong choice.
But if you do this long enough, instead having lots of choices open, you're actually closing them all down at one fell swoop.
I love television. Everything I learned in life, I got it from TV.
Here's another of them lessons taught by TV: Northern Exposure, 1992: "If you don't know where you are going, every road will take you there."
I am going to get a job by today. And I refuse to write anymore for a living. I am done with it. All that stress to write on demand is like sex: too much pressure to perform and no fun. Anything can go wrong: stress, an unresponsive penis, a lack of imagination in foreplay.
Yes, I am comparing sex to writing. What's the difference? Different strokes, different folks, and God put a rubber on the tip of a pencil.
You just have to smile at a God who would put an eraser at the tip of a pencil.
I am why pencils have erasers.
I fucking love how I can be as irrelevant and abrupt as I want to be without someone saying I've got 'bad grammar'.
Well I suppose I only spent 4 years studying the literary greats only to graduate with bad grammar and spelling.
Granted, Shakespeare spelt horribly and his grammar wasn't ace, but it would be disingenious to compare myself to Shakespeare now wouldn't it?
Jesus. I really hated my last job didn't I.
That's like, a fuck lot of pressure to be putting on 1 decision, wot?
Why not just keep your options open then? This way you'll never make the wrong choice.
But if you do this long enough, instead having lots of choices open, you're actually closing them all down at one fell swoop.
I love television. Everything I learned in life, I got it from TV.
Here's another of them lessons taught by TV: Northern Exposure, 1992: "If you don't know where you are going, every road will take you there."
I am going to get a job by today. And I refuse to write anymore for a living. I am done with it. All that stress to write on demand is like sex: too much pressure to perform and no fun. Anything can go wrong: stress, an unresponsive penis, a lack of imagination in foreplay.
Yes, I am comparing sex to writing. What's the difference? Different strokes, different folks, and God put a rubber on the tip of a pencil.
You just have to smile at a God who would put an eraser at the tip of a pencil.
I am why pencils have erasers.
I fucking love how I can be as irrelevant and abrupt as I want to be without someone saying I've got 'bad grammar'.
Well I suppose I only spent 4 years studying the literary greats only to graduate with bad grammar and spelling.
Granted, Shakespeare spelt horribly and his grammar wasn't ace, but it would be disingenious to compare myself to Shakespeare now wouldn't it?
Jesus. I really hated my last job didn't I.
Monday Blues
Tell me... who was the last person you struck off your contact lists?
Was it an ex-boyfriend or girlfriend?
Was it an ex-boss or ex-colleague?
Was it a friend who failed to understand you when you needed him or her most?
Who have you failed recently, and why?
And who has struck you off recently? Did you even get an explanation?
Did you get closure?
Do you miss him or her terribly? Goes away with time, doesn't it?
Can I possibly ask one more open-ended question?
Yes?
Do polar bears wake up on Mondays and go, 'GRRR GRRR GRRR GBRRR!!!" (loosely translated: damnit. have to catch a seal and eat it. I hate Mondays)?
What about beavers? Do they get sick of their work and think, maybe they would prefer to collect pollen from flowers and make honey instead?
Does anything other than a human being get the Monday Blues? Caterpillars? "Oh no, I've got to become a butterfly! No time to talk, must eat leaves!"
Dogs? "Got to get my coffee, I'm not really a morning person. Arf."
Cats? "Same thing we do everyday! Plan to take over the world!"
Frogs? "Rabbit."
Rabbits? "Frogs." Oops.
Why does Superman's costume look so tight?
Because he is wearing a size 'S'. *rimshot*
A little girl walks into a pet shop and asks in the sweetest little lisp....
"Excuthe me, mithter, do you keep widdle wabbits?"
As the shopkeeper's heart melts, he gets down on his knees and asks......
"Do you want a widdle white wabbit or a thoft and furwwy bwack wabbit, or maybe one like the cute widdle bwown wabbit over there?"
She in turn blushes, rocks on her heels, puts her hands on her knees leans forward and says in a quiet voice.....
"I don't think my pet python weally giveth a thit"
That's all, folks.
Was it an ex-boyfriend or girlfriend?
Was it an ex-boss or ex-colleague?
Was it a friend who failed to understand you when you needed him or her most?
Who have you failed recently, and why?
And who has struck you off recently? Did you even get an explanation?
Did you get closure?
Do you miss him or her terribly? Goes away with time, doesn't it?
Can I possibly ask one more open-ended question?
Yes?
Do polar bears wake up on Mondays and go, 'GRRR GRRR GRRR GBRRR!!!" (loosely translated: damnit. have to catch a seal and eat it. I hate Mondays)?
What about beavers? Do they get sick of their work and think, maybe they would prefer to collect pollen from flowers and make honey instead?
Does anything other than a human being get the Monday Blues? Caterpillars? "Oh no, I've got to become a butterfly! No time to talk, must eat leaves!"
Dogs? "Got to get my coffee, I'm not really a morning person. Arf."
Cats? "Same thing we do everyday! Plan to take over the world!"
Frogs? "Rabbit."
Rabbits? "Frogs." Oops.
Why does Superman's costume look so tight?
Because he is wearing a size 'S'. *rimshot*
A little girl walks into a pet shop and asks in the sweetest little lisp....
"Excuthe me, mithter, do you keep widdle wabbits?"
As the shopkeeper's heart melts, he gets down on his knees and asks......
"Do you want a widdle white wabbit or a thoft and furwwy bwack wabbit, or maybe one like the cute widdle bwown wabbit over there?"
She in turn blushes, rocks on her heels, puts her hands on her knees leans forward and says in a quiet voice.....
"I don't think my pet python weally giveth a thit"
That's all, folks.
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Fight.
Today, I learnt that if you take a running jump at someone with your leg outstreched, any fight falls in your favour.
I punch and kick well.
I am also an excellent mountain biker.
I am awesome.
I may also have enjoyed 'The Matrix: Reloaded' a little too much.
I punch and kick well.
I am also an excellent mountain biker.
I am awesome.
I may also have enjoyed 'The Matrix: Reloaded' a little too much.
4 random thoughts.
1. Why I should become a teacher.
I am great with kids. I hate studying, just like most of them. I'm born to entertain. It is potentially rewarding work. Steady pay. More than 2 weeks of leave every year.
2. My dad hates idiots. He is the gentlest soul in the world, except when it comes to questions like, 'Are you cooking tonight?'
Because it is obvious to him that, if you have been disassembling the cooker all afternoon to clean it, then no one, not God, not a 5 star Michelin chef, not Lee Kuan Yew, is cooking tonight.
Look how I turned out.
3. Too much is too little.
And enough is too much.
The fourth thought was to write all of this down.
I am great with kids. I hate studying, just like most of them. I'm born to entertain. It is potentially rewarding work. Steady pay. More than 2 weeks of leave every year.
2. My dad hates idiots. He is the gentlest soul in the world, except when it comes to questions like, 'Are you cooking tonight?'
Because it is obvious to him that, if you have been disassembling the cooker all afternoon to clean it, then no one, not God, not a 5 star Michelin chef, not Lee Kuan Yew, is cooking tonight.
Look how I turned out.
3. Too much is too little.
And enough is too much.
The fourth thought was to write all of this down.
It's not December yet, but...
but you wonder about people who have forgotten you. And what they might think of you in 20 years.
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Does Shit Stick To Your Fur?
Hey bud, sorry to hear the news. What's the story? Thanx.
--
Posted by chwee to O Wheely? YEA WHEELY! at 9/11/2006 06:26:14 PM
Dude!! what happened man.. sheesh.. feelin for ya..
--
Posted by shidy to O Wheely? YEA WHEELY! at 9/11/2006 04:42:03 PM
Sorry dudes, for taking so long to get back to you guys. Thanks for your concerned notes. It's nice :)
I spent one week pondering what happened and came up with an explanation:
A bear and a rabbit were shitting in the woods, when it started to rain. The bear turns around and asks the rabbit:
"Say, Mr Rabbit, does shit stick to your fur?"
The Rabbit was very proud of his plush white hairy bits, so naturally he replied: "Why, Mr Bear, of course not."
So the bear picks up the rabbit and wipes his butt with it.
And that, friends and families, is the only explanation that's worth the time now, 1 week on.
A little obtuse for sure, but life's like that. Sometimes you're the bear, and sometimes you're the rabbit. All in, my boss did me a favour. I was so depressed, I didn't know I was depressed. And now I get to start over with everything possible again.
Pretty damn funny though. Remember to tell your loved ones the joke, because it's hilarious all by itself, and they'll think you are really cute and you may get a special evening treat.
Moving on.
Right now, I'm considering several options:
1) Become a professional asshole. You know, work as a social activist (Civil Society Organisation). See the world. Grow long hair. Etc etc. Maybe with PETA.
2) Work in social welfare. You know, because it's a job that's guaranteed to make me care. And honestly, caring is the hardest thing for me to do.
3) Get started in some 'Ride Around The World For A Charity Of Your Choice' thing. In which I donate 80 cents of every dollar to a charity of my choice (keeping 20 to fund the trip.)
4) Apply to FHM, like I've always wanted.
5) Go into banking. Or teaching. (urgh.)
6) Get in as movie-reviewer at a company where my friend works.
7) Write into Aleoca, that cheap bike company that's actually Singaporean. Because I sure do care about cycling, if not anything else anymore.
And on that note, it seems that every day I've been in the saddle, there's been nasty big-ass rain. Here are some pictures.
It Never Rains, But It Pours.
So get waterproof.
And Today ...
Yesterday, I bought a book that I've been looking for since 2003. It's amazing. I plan to finish it before I die.
And came pretty close to it today. I had wanted to skip Bt Timah and just hit Track 15, but then I wanted to feel how my shocks worked. Nearly died going up the slopes, and then it simply poured. I had taken off all my gear for once. No bottle cages, lights, gear kit, mirror.
And the Moose-stang performed, and seemed truly in it's element in the splashing wet. Alaska must be like that.
In fact it rained so hard, I couldn't see jackshit, and my bike computer died.
But a little blowing with a fan dried it up and it's okay now.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Edit - 2300hrs : I am reading from Nick Hornby's 'High Fidelity', and if I'm ever inspired to write down my Top 5 Low Points in life, that getting canned would have to be one of them.
It felt so much more like a breakup than a firing. My boss cried, even though I didn't see her do it. It's the most emotional thing I've gone through since, oh, March, and it truly blows my mind the things we have to do to become real people. She's officially a boss now, and I'm officially nobody.
Quotes from the book that stayed in my head, something that hasn't happened for years:
"It seems to me that if you place music (and books, probably, and films, and plays, and anything that makes you feel) at the centre of your being, then you can't afford to sort out your love life, start to think of it as the finished product. You've got to pick at it, keep it alive and in turmoil, you've got to pick at it and unravel it until it all comes apart and you're compelled to start all over again. Maybe we all live life at too high a pitch, those of us who absorb emotional things all day, and as a consequence we can never feel merely content: we have to be unhappy, or esctatically, head-over-heels happy, and those states are difficult to achieve within a stable solid relationshp."
"It's only just beginning to occur to me that it's important to have something going on somewhere, at work or at home, otherwise you're just clinging on... You need as much ballast as possible to stop you floating away; you need people around you, things going on, otherwise life is like some film where the money ran out, and there are no sets, or locations, or supporting actors, and it's just one bloke on his own staring into the camera with nothing to do and nobody to speak to, and who'd believe in this character then?"
--
Posted by chwee to O Wheely? YEA WHEELY! at 9/11/2006 06:26:14 PM
Dude!! what happened man.. sheesh.. feelin for ya..
--
Posted by shidy to O Wheely? YEA WHEELY! at 9/11/2006 04:42:03 PM
Sorry dudes, for taking so long to get back to you guys. Thanks for your concerned notes. It's nice :)
I spent one week pondering what happened and came up with an explanation:
A bear and a rabbit were shitting in the woods, when it started to rain. The bear turns around and asks the rabbit:
"Say, Mr Rabbit, does shit stick to your fur?"
The Rabbit was very proud of his plush white hairy bits, so naturally he replied: "Why, Mr Bear, of course not."
So the bear picks up the rabbit and wipes his butt with it.
And that, friends and families, is the only explanation that's worth the time now, 1 week on.
A little obtuse for sure, but life's like that. Sometimes you're the bear, and sometimes you're the rabbit. All in, my boss did me a favour. I was so depressed, I didn't know I was depressed. And now I get to start over with everything possible again.
Pretty damn funny though. Remember to tell your loved ones the joke, because it's hilarious all by itself, and they'll think you are really cute and you may get a special evening treat.
Moving on.
Right now, I'm considering several options:
1) Become a professional asshole. You know, work as a social activist (Civil Society Organisation). See the world. Grow long hair. Etc etc. Maybe with PETA.
2) Work in social welfare. You know, because it's a job that's guaranteed to make me care. And honestly, caring is the hardest thing for me to do.
3) Get started in some 'Ride Around The World For A Charity Of Your Choice' thing. In which I donate 80 cents of every dollar to a charity of my choice (keeping 20 to fund the trip.)
4) Apply to FHM, like I've always wanted.
5) Go into banking. Or teaching. (urgh.)
6) Get in as movie-reviewer at a company where my friend works.
7) Write into Aleoca, that cheap bike company that's actually Singaporean. Because I sure do care about cycling, if not anything else anymore.
And on that note, it seems that every day I've been in the saddle, there's been nasty big-ass rain. Here are some pictures.
It Never Rains, But It Pours.
So get waterproof.
And Today ...
Yesterday, I bought a book that I've been looking for since 2003. It's amazing. I plan to finish it before I die.
And came pretty close to it today. I had wanted to skip Bt Timah and just hit Track 15, but then I wanted to feel how my shocks worked. Nearly died going up the slopes, and then it simply poured. I had taken off all my gear for once. No bottle cages, lights, gear kit, mirror.
And the Moose-stang performed, and seemed truly in it's element in the splashing wet. Alaska must be like that.
In fact it rained so hard, I couldn't see jackshit, and my bike computer died.
But a little blowing with a fan dried it up and it's okay now.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Edit - 2300hrs : I am reading from Nick Hornby's 'High Fidelity', and if I'm ever inspired to write down my Top 5 Low Points in life, that getting canned would have to be one of them.
It felt so much more like a breakup than a firing. My boss cried, even though I didn't see her do it. It's the most emotional thing I've gone through since, oh, March, and it truly blows my mind the things we have to do to become real people. She's officially a boss now, and I'm officially nobody.
Quotes from the book that stayed in my head, something that hasn't happened for years:
"It seems to me that if you place music (and books, probably, and films, and plays, and anything that makes you feel) at the centre of your being, then you can't afford to sort out your love life, start to think of it as the finished product. You've got to pick at it, keep it alive and in turmoil, you've got to pick at it and unravel it until it all comes apart and you're compelled to start all over again. Maybe we all live life at too high a pitch, those of us who absorb emotional things all day, and as a consequence we can never feel merely content: we have to be unhappy, or esctatically, head-over-heels happy, and those states are difficult to achieve within a stable solid relationshp."
"It's only just beginning to occur to me that it's important to have something going on somewhere, at work or at home, otherwise you're just clinging on... You need as much ballast as possible to stop you floating away; you need people around you, things going on, otherwise life is like some film where the money ran out, and there are no sets, or locations, or supporting actors, and it's just one bloke on his own staring into the camera with nothing to do and nobody to speak to, and who'd believe in this character then?"
Friday, September 08, 2006
I Lie For A Living.
Alaska Is A State Of Mind Part II.
Back when the mountain bike craze was really taking off, a few luxury car manufacturers decided to create mountain bikes with their brand badges stamped on. BMW, Volvo, Mercedes Benz, and lately, even Hummer decided to ship mountain bikes with selected car purchases, to show off their engineering and technology expertise, and to prove that drivers who bought their vehicles were getting a complete package.
The results weren't often striking. Designer bikes such as these were known more for their poseur value than their actual utility.
According to BMW:
"Why does a car manufacturer make bicycles? Because they have come to the conclusion that their market is not just about cars, it is about providing their customers with mobility. There are times when a car is not an appropriate form of transport, and by providing a bike for these occasions, BMW extend their service. By taking the bike business seriously, they also ensure that the brand attributes of quality and reliability are maintained. There is also a strong element of lifestyle marketing going on here - purists may frown, but anything that gets non-cyclists onto bikes can only be a good thing. If it’s the cachet of the BMW badge that makes them take that first ride, so be it. By providing quality bikes for everyday users, and innovative high-tech bikes for enthusiasts, BMW have made a significant move to become one of the more forward-thinking car manufacturers."
Volkswagen, too, made a half-hearted attempt to get into the game. In 1995, a prototype was designed and manufactured, before the head honchos (correctly) decided that they would get more exposure by just co-sponsoring a race team. Hence, TREK/Volkswagen Racing Team was born. And now you can go out into a store and buy a TREK/Volkswagen Team bike.
But before the VW bike got scrapped, one of the prototype frames found its way into my hands.
The result, as you can see, is the reason why this blog exists.
Presenting the one-of-a-kind Volkswagen Moose-stang.
From the (ditched) user manual:
"Congratulations on purchasing a Volkswagen Moose-stang. Like driving a Volkswagen car, the Moose-stang delivers one of the most authentic experiences you'll ever get on wheels. You'll enjoy taking the Volkswagen Moose-stang with you whereever you go, whether it is the smooth asphalt of highways that you love, or bombing down fireroads in the thickest neck of the Alaskan Riveria woods.
The Moose-stang is a masterpiece expertly assembled from heat-treated aircraft-grade 6061 T6 oversized aluminium tubes, chosen for its strong, light and durable qualities. Beefy TIG (Tungsten Inert Gas) welds ensure that the Moose-stang has the strength to take on whatever abuse you can throw at it, while premium specification Shimano LX components deliver top of the line, breakdown-free performance ... "
Only 5 were ever made. Only 2 were ever actually built up with parts, spec'd in that day and age at LX. Here's one of them:
Check out those 'beefy' welds.
Perhaps the other frames are all scrap now. Rest in peace.
I hope this post answers any unasked questions about the origins of my frame. How I came to get my hands on it, however, is a story for another day. But it's quite simple really. I needed a new frame. I came, I saw, I purchased. End of story.
Back when the mountain bike craze was really taking off, a few luxury car manufacturers decided to create mountain bikes with their brand badges stamped on. BMW, Volvo, Mercedes Benz, and lately, even Hummer decided to ship mountain bikes with selected car purchases, to show off their engineering and technology expertise, and to prove that drivers who bought their vehicles were getting a complete package.
The results weren't often striking. Designer bikes such as these were known more for their poseur value than their actual utility.
According to BMW:
"Why does a car manufacturer make bicycles? Because they have come to the conclusion that their market is not just about cars, it is about providing their customers with mobility. There are times when a car is not an appropriate form of transport, and by providing a bike for these occasions, BMW extend their service. By taking the bike business seriously, they also ensure that the brand attributes of quality and reliability are maintained. There is also a strong element of lifestyle marketing going on here - purists may frown, but anything that gets non-cyclists onto bikes can only be a good thing. If it’s the cachet of the BMW badge that makes them take that first ride, so be it. By providing quality bikes for everyday users, and innovative high-tech bikes for enthusiasts, BMW have made a significant move to become one of the more forward-thinking car manufacturers."
Volkswagen, too, made a half-hearted attempt to get into the game. In 1995, a prototype was designed and manufactured, before the head honchos (correctly) decided that they would get more exposure by just co-sponsoring a race team. Hence, TREK/Volkswagen Racing Team was born. And now you can go out into a store and buy a TREK/Volkswagen Team bike.
But before the VW bike got scrapped, one of the prototype frames found its way into my hands.
The result, as you can see, is the reason why this blog exists.
Presenting the one-of-a-kind Volkswagen Moose-stang.
From the (ditched) user manual:
"Congratulations on purchasing a Volkswagen Moose-stang. Like driving a Volkswagen car, the Moose-stang delivers one of the most authentic experiences you'll ever get on wheels. You'll enjoy taking the Volkswagen Moose-stang with you whereever you go, whether it is the smooth asphalt of highways that you love, or bombing down fireroads in the thickest neck of the Alaskan Riveria woods.
The Moose-stang is a masterpiece expertly assembled from heat-treated aircraft-grade 6061 T6 oversized aluminium tubes, chosen for its strong, light and durable qualities. Beefy TIG (Tungsten Inert Gas) welds ensure that the Moose-stang has the strength to take on whatever abuse you can throw at it, while premium specification Shimano LX components deliver top of the line, breakdown-free performance ... "
Only 5 were ever made. Only 2 were ever actually built up with parts, spec'd in that day and age at LX. Here's one of them:
Check out those 'beefy' welds.
Perhaps the other frames are all scrap now. Rest in peace.
I hope this post answers any unasked questions about the origins of my frame. How I came to get my hands on it, however, is a story for another day. But it's quite simple really. I needed a new frame. I came, I saw, I purchased. End of story.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Holy S*it. Is That A Bike Or A Car???
If you are new to riding on the road, this entry may be for you.
In today's entry, I would like to talk about something called 'aura'.
Main Entry: au·ra
Pronunciation: 'or-&
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Latin, puff of air, breeze, from Greek; probably akin to Greek aEr air
1 a : a subtle sensory stimulus (as an aroma) b : a distinctive atmosphere surrounding a given source
2 : a luminous radiation : NIMBUS
3 : a subjective sensation (as of lights) experienced before an attack of some disorders (as epilepsy or a migraine)
4 : an energy field that is held to emanate from a living being
Numbers 1b and 4 are relevant for cyclists.
Cyclists dress in loud flashy colours. We don loud helmets, put on blinking lights and reflectors, and the more experienced ones try to ride defensively. Because, unlike car, bus, or truck drivers and to a lesser extent, motorcyclists, cyclists are vulnerable.
That's why its easy for other road-users to bully us. As been said before, we are skin over metal, whereas they are metal over skin.
But it is possible to ride in such a way as to encourage them to treat you with the same respect that they would give to other drivers.
Here are a few suggestions to note, from my 24 years experience of riding bikes.
1. Create the impression that you are a vehicle worthy of sharing the road with.
I'm not sure that riding with a rear-mirror actually gives me a greater aura. But if I were a driver, and I see a cyclist up ahead with a mirror, I tend to think he probably is aware of me.
My respect for him goes up a notch. This isn't some kid who doesn't care about other road users. At least he probably gives a crap.
How about lights and a helmet? Those certainly help. But at this point, you want to be careful to ride as though you're an actual responsible road-user, and not like you are a kid.
2. Observe the Traffic Code.
Stop at lights. Allow larger vehicles to overtake (duh).
This last point is very important but very few newbies and even some old birds actually adhere to it.
I've seen a pair of cyclists signalling that they want to move right with a bus right behind them, when they should have braked, let the bus move ahead, THEN move right.
How colossaly stupid is it to expect a bus to give way to a cyclist? Even if you are right and the bus driver is wrong, several tons of metal still stand between your decision.
Larger vehicles have right of way.
3. Be Authoritative.
You have the gear. You observe the Traffic Code. Now ride like you are a Pro.
I don't mean to weave in and out of traffic like you are a bike messenger on crack.
But you have to exude an aura that shows you know what you are doing.
Those two roadies trying to get the right-of-way before the bus didn't get their way, because they looked like pushovers. Limply raising your arm to signal 'right' means you don't think you're going to get your way.
Signal like you mean it.
There's this joke I heard once that I would like to share with you.
Private Lim went overseas on a peace-keeping mission, and somehow wound up in the heat of battle. After a while, his platoon was running out of ammunition, and close to panicking, he saw that one of the guys from another platoon, Corporal Kumar, was without a gun, but pretending that he was shooting the enemy, pointing his arms as if he was holding a rifle all while shouting "bangity bang."
Curious, Private Lim approached Corporal Kumar and said, "What on heck are you doing?!" Corporal Kumar replied, "I don't know, I just discovered that if you point and shoot like this, it works." Sure enough he demonstrated, "Bangity bang" and enemy soldiers fell dead. Private Lim was impressed, and so he did the exact same thing.
"Bangity bang" and just like that, enemy soldiers started dropping.
Private Lim fired again. "Bangity bang" and another enemy soldier dropped.
Thus he did it again and again.
But then, one of the the enemy soldiers did not drop but kept walking in his direction. "Bangity Bang" said Private Lim a bit louder.
The man did not drop but kept walking closer and closer. Private Lim was beginning to worry.
"Bangity bangity bangity BANG!!!". To no avail.
And just as the enemy soldier was within a few feet of Private Lim, he heard him saying, "Tankity tankity tank tank..."
And that is all I have to say about that.
--------------
I braked hard to a stop in front of this caucasian earlier today, and he like flinched for several seconds before uttering these words.
"Holy s*it. Is that a bike or a car???"
Given that I was expecting him to give me a tongue lashing, that was... way unexpected.
Anyway, that's how today's entry was inspired.
What did he see, though?
This entry was brought to you by the letter A. As in, "fucking a', dude." I always assumed it means 'ace'.
In other news, today, I count 3 other bike commuters in my office tower. Bumped into the 3rd today, much friendlier chap than the other two. Rode a Trek to work. Nice chap. Rides a size 20".
In today's entry, I would like to talk about something called 'aura'.
Main Entry: au·ra
Pronunciation: 'or-&
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Latin, puff of air, breeze, from Greek; probably akin to Greek aEr air
1 a : a subtle sensory stimulus (as an aroma) b : a distinctive atmosphere surrounding a given source
2 : a luminous radiation : NIMBUS
3 : a subjective sensation (as of lights) experienced before an attack of some disorders (as epilepsy or a migraine)
4 : an energy field that is held to emanate from a living being
Numbers 1b and 4 are relevant for cyclists.
Cyclists dress in loud flashy colours. We don loud helmets, put on blinking lights and reflectors, and the more experienced ones try to ride defensively. Because, unlike car, bus, or truck drivers and to a lesser extent, motorcyclists, cyclists are vulnerable.
That's why its easy for other road-users to bully us. As been said before, we are skin over metal, whereas they are metal over skin.
But it is possible to ride in such a way as to encourage them to treat you with the same respect that they would give to other drivers.
Here are a few suggestions to note, from my 24 years experience of riding bikes.
1. Create the impression that you are a vehicle worthy of sharing the road with.
I'm not sure that riding with a rear-mirror actually gives me a greater aura. But if I were a driver, and I see a cyclist up ahead with a mirror, I tend to think he probably is aware of me.
My respect for him goes up a notch. This isn't some kid who doesn't care about other road users. At least he probably gives a crap.
How about lights and a helmet? Those certainly help. But at this point, you want to be careful to ride as though you're an actual responsible road-user, and not like you are a kid.
2. Observe the Traffic Code.
Stop at lights. Allow larger vehicles to overtake (duh).
This last point is very important but very few newbies and even some old birds actually adhere to it.
I've seen a pair of cyclists signalling that they want to move right with a bus right behind them, when they should have braked, let the bus move ahead, THEN move right.
How colossaly stupid is it to expect a bus to give way to a cyclist? Even if you are right and the bus driver is wrong, several tons of metal still stand between your decision.
Larger vehicles have right of way.
3. Be Authoritative.
You have the gear. You observe the Traffic Code. Now ride like you are a Pro.
I don't mean to weave in and out of traffic like you are a bike messenger on crack.
But you have to exude an aura that shows you know what you are doing.
Those two roadies trying to get the right-of-way before the bus didn't get their way, because they looked like pushovers. Limply raising your arm to signal 'right' means you don't think you're going to get your way.
Signal like you mean it.
There's this joke I heard once that I would like to share with you.
Private Lim went overseas on a peace-keeping mission, and somehow wound up in the heat of battle. After a while, his platoon was running out of ammunition, and close to panicking, he saw that one of the guys from another platoon, Corporal Kumar, was without a gun, but pretending that he was shooting the enemy, pointing his arms as if he was holding a rifle all while shouting "bangity bang."
Curious, Private Lim approached Corporal Kumar and said, "What on heck are you doing?!" Corporal Kumar replied, "I don't know, I just discovered that if you point and shoot like this, it works." Sure enough he demonstrated, "Bangity bang" and enemy soldiers fell dead. Private Lim was impressed, and so he did the exact same thing.
"Bangity bang" and just like that, enemy soldiers started dropping.
Private Lim fired again. "Bangity bang" and another enemy soldier dropped.
Thus he did it again and again.
But then, one of the the enemy soldiers did not drop but kept walking in his direction. "Bangity Bang" said Private Lim a bit louder.
The man did not drop but kept walking closer and closer. Private Lim was beginning to worry.
"Bangity bangity bangity BANG!!!". To no avail.
And just as the enemy soldier was within a few feet of Private Lim, he heard him saying, "Tankity tankity tank tank..."
And that is all I have to say about that.
--------------
I braked hard to a stop in front of this caucasian earlier today, and he like flinched for several seconds before uttering these words.
"Holy s*it. Is that a bike or a car???"
Given that I was expecting him to give me a tongue lashing, that was... way unexpected.
Anyway, that's how today's entry was inspired.
What did he see, though?
This entry was brought to you by the letter A. As in, "fucking a', dude." I always assumed it means 'ace'.
In other news, today, I count 3 other bike commuters in my office tower. Bumped into the 3rd today, much friendlier chap than the other two. Rode a Trek to work. Nice chap. Rides a size 20".
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
