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.
Friday, September 29, 2006
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".
Monday, September 04, 2006
Powered by Dao Sa Bao.
When I was a kid of about 7 or 8, my family often went out on weekends and shopped till about 9 30 in the evening. We would come home to a coffeeshop (that now no longer exists) and have our supper.
It must have been during one of these occasions that my parents told me this ghastly horror story:
Every night, at 10pm, the great 'Dao Sa Bao' monster rises up from the steamer to devour little children.
Uh, it's about that long.
And as proof, they showed me what the monster looked like. It looks exactly like this:
The bite marks from a freshly tasted dao sa bao resemble a monster's mouth.
What could I do? I was just a kid. I believed them.
And everytime I went to buy supper, I made sure to run like the wind. Because it was always 9 50 or something. I ran with the fear of being eaten up by the great Dao Sa Bao Monster.
Ok now. Hands up, who believes that this is a real story?
Fact or fiction?
Truth or lies?
You Decide. (TM)
William can't believe what he's reading. If I could read upside down, I won't believe it either.
Mileage today.
It must have been during one of these occasions that my parents told me this ghastly horror story:
Every night, at 10pm, the great 'Dao Sa Bao' monster rises up from the steamer to devour little children.
Uh, it's about that long.
And as proof, they showed me what the monster looked like. It looks exactly like this:
The bite marks from a freshly tasted dao sa bao resemble a monster's mouth.
What could I do? I was just a kid. I believed them.
And everytime I went to buy supper, I made sure to run like the wind. Because it was always 9 50 or something. I ran with the fear of being eaten up by the great Dao Sa Bao Monster.
Ok now. Hands up, who believes that this is a real story?
Fact or fiction?
Truth or lies?
You Decide. (TM)
William can't believe what he's reading. If I could read upside down, I won't believe it either.
Mileage today.
Saturday, September 02, 2006
I'm Thomson. NO, I'M THOMPSON.
"Ask them for the Air Way Bill No. Call the Freight forwarder to check the wherebout of the shipment. "
--
Posted by Emmerdeur to O Wheely? YEA WHEELY! at 7/28/2006 08:49:03 AM
Yo Emmerdeur person. Sorry for missing your comment. I hope I did not seem rude. Being new to 'blogging' I didn't know you had to go to 'moderate posts' to, uh, moderate... posts.
Forget me own name next.
Anyway if you have been keeping up, the alarm finally arrived, thanks to the very lovely Kate Grant who sent me a replacement.
I seem to be gaining a small readership. As proof, my little experiment on the 27th July worked. Hey Zaphod. Hope your gf likes the little blinky LEDs you gonna get for her handlebars.
About The Title.
"I'm Spartacus."
If you read the Tintin comics, and who the huh didn't if they grew up in the 80s, the Thomson twins were these two bumbling detectives, who according to Wikipedia: ".... Thomson and Thompson are two bumbling detectives who, although unrelated, look like twins with the only discernible difference being the shape of their moustaches.[17] They provide much of the comic relief throughout the series, being afflicted with chronic spoonerism and shown to be thoroughly incompetent."
Well, I got me a Thomson today. And it's the one with the funny moustache.
As opposed to the other Thompson with the not so funny one.
Ok maybe a pic would help.
27.2 x 330mm. Zero Degree Setback. I had to think long and hard about whether to go with silver or black.
Black it was because this way, Dad doesn't notice.
Links.
If you look on the right, there's some links there. I would like to explain why they're up.
The first is a no-nonsense kinda site by actual Singaporeans about the cycling that they do. I really enjoy reading about people who are driven by passion. They really do enrich the place in which they live. Note that because they used the same blog layout I had, I've switched mine to a new one. Hence the new blue look. The Moose-Stang loves the blues and approves.
The second is some bloke's site that was fun to read. I like sharp-tongued, articulate people who don't write behind a veil of hypocrisy. Life's so short.
Next, reading about Ken Kifer's death somehow made me feel a twange of sadness inside this hollow thing I call a heart. I learnt a lot about riding from the next link which is all the stuff he's written.
One way not to feel sad about his death is to browse through his legacy: his bike pages are filled with a wealth of information. You go back time and again and find something new and interesting. Or it could be me with my chronic short term memory triggered by my trying to kill it with booze. You be the judge.
Then we have Sheldon Brown, the ultimate authority on all things that rhyme with buy-sickle.. I keep returning to his site, if only to keep gawking at that picture of him with a helmet on. Who needs a bell when you look like that?
Cycler's Life and Bike Year are two other inspiring blogs that I have actually had the patience to read all the way through to the end.
And of course who can forget Freddie Hoffman, the Forrest Gump of the cycling world. In a world that's dying for a lack of reason to live, he's my kind of champion.
That's all. I'm still very sick. I had no idea the way an illness can completely wipe out your fitness level, much like how supplies of 2-ply toilet paper gets wiped out at Portable-Loos right after a 60,000 participant marathon run.
That sentence is so wrong and gross that I think I'll actually stop here.
Guess I may not be able to go explore Chinatown tomorrow.
Friday, September 01, 2006
Love Me, Love My Uvula
So I landed myself in traction over the last 3 days.
The long biking hours in the sun have finally caught up with me.
My uvula is baked. I have phlegmn in my lungs and throat. A dry cough. A fever. A mouthful of ulcers.
"And a partridge in a pear tree."
Note the parched lips. And, fascinatingly, I managed to capture my uvula. Hi there, little guy! In case you don't know what an uvula is, it's that dangly little bit at the back of your throat that wiggles when you scream. In the pic above, that would be the little glowy blob just below my two teeth. How's that for self-portraiture?
It's not a flattering shot but I'm proud of it.
ANYWAY, I took Wednesday off, spent Thursday on my back (medical leave), and took today off again when I realised I was still sick. I want to strangle that little uvula but damnit, it's too cute, especially when you draw a 'happy face' on it, like so:
:)
It has to be one of my favourite body parts. If you're attached, a fun game to play with your loved one is to see if you can suck your mate's uvula. It's gross, yet sexy, and you should never take relationship advice from me.
Uvula is going onto my list of inherently funny words, such as 'va-jay-jay', 'spatula', 'cow', 'chicken' and 'duck'.
Moving on, with this much time mandatory off the bike, I decided that I'll replace the corroding bolts on my stem with new stainless steel ones.
That is, Dad volunteered to get me new bolts.
So sweet of him.
I had to leave the flat washers off though. Important lesson learnt: there are good screws, and there are bad screws.
Bad screws strip first.
I love talking dirty.
In other news, the compass I got from Nee Soon Camp during my trip to Sembawang? It sucks. It's been demagnetised. I salvaged my old compass and an old headlight mount and put the old compass back on again.
Here's a view of my cockpit.
Why do they call it a cockpit?
Heh.
The long biking hours in the sun have finally caught up with me.
My uvula is baked. I have phlegmn in my lungs and throat. A dry cough. A fever. A mouthful of ulcers.
"And a partridge in a pear tree."
Note the parched lips. And, fascinatingly, I managed to capture my uvula. Hi there, little guy! In case you don't know what an uvula is, it's that dangly little bit at the back of your throat that wiggles when you scream. In the pic above, that would be the little glowy blob just below my two teeth. How's that for self-portraiture?
It's not a flattering shot but I'm proud of it.
ANYWAY, I took Wednesday off, spent Thursday on my back (medical leave), and took today off again when I realised I was still sick. I want to strangle that little uvula but damnit, it's too cute, especially when you draw a 'happy face' on it, like so:
:)
It has to be one of my favourite body parts. If you're attached, a fun game to play with your loved one is to see if you can suck your mate's uvula. It's gross, yet sexy, and you should never take relationship advice from me.
Uvula is going onto my list of inherently funny words, such as 'va-jay-jay', 'spatula', 'cow', 'chicken' and 'duck'.
Moving on, with this much time mandatory off the bike, I decided that I'll replace the corroding bolts on my stem with new stainless steel ones.
That is, Dad volunteered to get me new bolts.
So sweet of him.
I had to leave the flat washers off though. Important lesson learnt: there are good screws, and there are bad screws.
Bad screws strip first.
I love talking dirty.
In other news, the compass I got from Nee Soon Camp during my trip to Sembawang? It sucks. It's been demagnetised. I salvaged my old compass and an old headlight mount and put the old compass back on again.
Here's a view of my cockpit.
Why do they call it a cockpit?
Heh.
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