Monday, August 16, 2004
So there I stood at the top of the stairs ready to tackle the world. I had been inspired by the thoughtful words of close friends. I was prepared to not worry so much and become what I want to be. I descended the stairs, my 'seizing of the day' would start with me hopping on my bike and buying a samoza.
DAMN!
Some jerk stole my bike wheel. Not my bike, that would take some amount of skill and intelligence, this thalidiomide kid made off with just my wheel. (addenum : It's two hours later and I'm still pissed off about my stolen bike wheel, mostly because if they stole my entire bike, I wouldn't have had to cart my stupid fucking frame 4 blocks home from Willow St tonight).
I wrote this short story last night about bicycles and today my bicycle wheel went missing.
The Strange Things We Notice About Sharks
Sometimes I can understand why someone would spend their day walking or biking all over the city constantly. This isn't some sort of romanticization of the city. I'm not referring to people who are so enthusiastic about about the vibrancy of this hamlet that they are awestruck and feel the need to take it all in.
The people I understand now are the people whom I've giggled at when was sitting in the back seat of the bus. During the times I wasn't slumping in the seat making out with my girlfriend, I was laughing at them when their backs were turned (sometimes they're not turned at all). I'm sure they never noticed all they wanted was to keep looking ahead and keep moving.
There's one in every town. In my town his name was 'Speedy'. He wasn't very remarkable aside from one thing and I'm not even sure that was very remarkable. He would ride his beat up bicylce all over our town, which wasn't a remarkable town at all. One of the few exciting things about going to church on Sunday mornings, and there's very few things that are exciting about church, was knowing that we'd catch a glimpse of Speedy riding around town. Speedy didn't have a personality per se, so much as seemed to possess a program. Everything about him seemed automatic. He displayed no emotion as he peddled. As cars drove by and honked their horns he would, without fail, raise his hand in stiff armed acknowledgement while he continued on his tour. He never altered his gaze to see who had honked, he had precious little time available for such things. His thoughts seemed to be focused on one thing, moving forward.
Very little can keep up to a cyclist if they just keep moving ahead. Everything falls behind the cyclist at some point. The cyclist ceases to be concerned with what came before. They're concerned with straightening the knee as they pedal at a 45 degree angle down and forward. Pressure is applied with one foot as the other foot lifts. Equal force applied to each pedal as they move forward and transfer their power from their body to their bike. One foot up, one foot down. they never waver from this formula because the tires roll true.
Speedy was an elusive figure for most of my formative years. I was always hoping to catch him in a break from his routine, from his programming. I uncovered very little about Speedy. I suppose I wasn't looking in the right places. I was treating him like a machine. A machine that I thought someday may finally override his programming and finally show human emotions. Though he strictly adhered to his programming, he was no machine.
When I was in grade five I started to miss a lot of school because I had a dangerously low white blood cell count. I spent a lot of time in and out of the hospital at all hours of the night because I was so susceptible to infection.
Hospital waiting rooms in their infinite loneliness make for interesting alliances. Acquaintances that you barely acknowledge when seen in the produce section of the market become privy to your life story when seated beside you in a hospital waiting room.
'Dad, refuses to go into a seniors complex.'
The ancient next to her refuses to look at us while the younger woman talks to my mother.
'Oh...it must be so hard for him to give up his independence, but I suppose it's better than...'
My mother's voice trails off as she realizes the object, er subject, of their conversation is present.
'Well I mean It was ok for him to live alone when Mom was alive because they looked after one another, but she's been dead for almost 8 years now.'
My gaze shifted from the woman's lips to the man's face.
'Phil's mother just went into a senior's apartment last year. I'm sure it added a couple of years to her life...and ours. Phil's father passed away the year before that, she just hadn't been the same since.'
I studied his brow, his eyes, his mouth. I had him. I was sure of it.
'Each year he just becomes more stubborn. He's getting too damn old for that bicycle. The old lady'd put up with it, but...'
I couldn't have asked for a better opportunity to see him rebel against his programming, but he never did. I'm not sure if he was stubborn or if it was because he simply lacked the will to.
Speedy didn't break that day and he never broke on any subsequent day. I would still see him riding his bicycle through the town, but I didn’t urge my father to honk the car's horn anymore. We never honked, he never waved. He continued to put one foot down and forward at a 45 degree angle, transferring power from his body to his bike.
Every town has one, maybe it's just one, maybe it's more, but every town has one. You've seen them, you've mocked them, you've cursed them, you've laughed at them and sometimes you've understood them, maybe even envied them. Even after Speedy dies there'll be someone else solitarily pedaling an old bicycle from one end of the town to the other, moving forward, always putting what's passed behind them and never looking back.
I'm reminded of that band, Sharks Keep Moving. Did I miss out by not listening to them? Is there something about sharks and their habits that would give me some insight into Speedy and his ilk? All I know about sharks is that all they leave behind is their teeth.
DAMN!
Some jerk stole my bike wheel. Not my bike, that would take some amount of skill and intelligence, this thalidiomide kid made off with just my wheel. (addenum : It's two hours later and I'm still pissed off about my stolen bike wheel, mostly because if they stole my entire bike, I wouldn't have had to cart my stupid fucking frame 4 blocks home from Willow St tonight).
I wrote this short story last night about bicycles and today my bicycle wheel went missing.
The Strange Things We Notice About Sharks
Sometimes I can understand why someone would spend their day walking or biking all over the city constantly. This isn't some sort of romanticization of the city. I'm not referring to people who are so enthusiastic about about the vibrancy of this hamlet that they are awestruck and feel the need to take it all in.
The people I understand now are the people whom I've giggled at when was sitting in the back seat of the bus. During the times I wasn't slumping in the seat making out with my girlfriend, I was laughing at them when their backs were turned (sometimes they're not turned at all). I'm sure they never noticed all they wanted was to keep looking ahead and keep moving.
There's one in every town. In my town his name was 'Speedy'. He wasn't very remarkable aside from one thing and I'm not even sure that was very remarkable. He would ride his beat up bicylce all over our town, which wasn't a remarkable town at all. One of the few exciting things about going to church on Sunday mornings, and there's very few things that are exciting about church, was knowing that we'd catch a glimpse of Speedy riding around town. Speedy didn't have a personality per se, so much as seemed to possess a program. Everything about him seemed automatic. He displayed no emotion as he peddled. As cars drove by and honked their horns he would, without fail, raise his hand in stiff armed acknowledgement while he continued on his tour. He never altered his gaze to see who had honked, he had precious little time available for such things. His thoughts seemed to be focused on one thing, moving forward.
Very little can keep up to a cyclist if they just keep moving ahead. Everything falls behind the cyclist at some point. The cyclist ceases to be concerned with what came before. They're concerned with straightening the knee as they pedal at a 45 degree angle down and forward. Pressure is applied with one foot as the other foot lifts. Equal force applied to each pedal as they move forward and transfer their power from their body to their bike. One foot up, one foot down. they never waver from this formula because the tires roll true.
Speedy was an elusive figure for most of my formative years. I was always hoping to catch him in a break from his routine, from his programming. I uncovered very little about Speedy. I suppose I wasn't looking in the right places. I was treating him like a machine. A machine that I thought someday may finally override his programming and finally show human emotions. Though he strictly adhered to his programming, he was no machine.
When I was in grade five I started to miss a lot of school because I had a dangerously low white blood cell count. I spent a lot of time in and out of the hospital at all hours of the night because I was so susceptible to infection.
Hospital waiting rooms in their infinite loneliness make for interesting alliances. Acquaintances that you barely acknowledge when seen in the produce section of the market become privy to your life story when seated beside you in a hospital waiting room.
'Dad, refuses to go into a seniors complex.'
The ancient next to her refuses to look at us while the younger woman talks to my mother.
'Oh...it must be so hard for him to give up his independence, but I suppose it's better than...'
My mother's voice trails off as she realizes the object, er subject, of their conversation is present.
'Well I mean It was ok for him to live alone when Mom was alive because they looked after one another, but she's been dead for almost 8 years now.'
My gaze shifted from the woman's lips to the man's face.
'Phil's mother just went into a senior's apartment last year. I'm sure it added a couple of years to her life...and ours. Phil's father passed away the year before that, she just hadn't been the same since.'
I studied his brow, his eyes, his mouth. I had him. I was sure of it.
'Each year he just becomes more stubborn. He's getting too damn old for that bicycle. The old lady'd put up with it, but...'
I couldn't have asked for a better opportunity to see him rebel against his programming, but he never did. I'm not sure if he was stubborn or if it was because he simply lacked the will to.
Speedy didn't break that day and he never broke on any subsequent day. I would still see him riding his bicycle through the town, but I didn’t urge my father to honk the car's horn anymore. We never honked, he never waved. He continued to put one foot down and forward at a 45 degree angle, transferring power from his body to his bike.
Every town has one, maybe it's just one, maybe it's more, but every town has one. You've seen them, you've mocked them, you've cursed them, you've laughed at them and sometimes you've understood them, maybe even envied them. Even after Speedy dies there'll be someone else solitarily pedaling an old bicycle from one end of the town to the other, moving forward, always putting what's passed behind them and never looking back.
I'm reminded of that band, Sharks Keep Moving. Did I miss out by not listening to them? Is there something about sharks and their habits that would give me some insight into Speedy and his ilk? All I know about sharks is that all they leave behind is their teeth.
Hello Friends,
I am using you to shamelessly promote an event that I have organized. I hope that you and everyone you know will come to:
INDIE-DANCE NIGHT AT THE SEAHORSE.
DANCE TO SONGS YOU REALLY LIKE
Halifax's long-awaited regular indie dance party night is on its way. Every last Wednesday of the month, starting Wednesday, August 25th at the Seahorse, cut a rug with the same DJs who have rocked you at Audio Deviance, NSCAD parties, the Bella Muse and the Khyber. Dance to old and new, but mostly new, indie-rock and dance music. $2 cover, cheap drinks.
This is going to be seriously awesome. PLease come, I promise you$2.50 affordable drinks, lots of sex, oh and really good dance music.
Thank you for your time.
Esten Gerriets.
Prince of Knives.
I am using you to shamelessly promote an event that I have organized. I hope that you and everyone you know will come to:
INDIE-DANCE NIGHT AT THE SEAHORSE.
DANCE TO SONGS YOU REALLY LIKE
Halifax's long-awaited regular indie dance party night is on its way. Every last Wednesday of the month, starting Wednesday, August 25th at the Seahorse, cut a rug with the same DJs who have rocked you at Audio Deviance, NSCAD parties, the Bella Muse and the Khyber. Dance to old and new, but mostly new, indie-rock and dance music. $2 cover, cheap drinks.
This is going to be seriously awesome. PLease come, I promise you
Thank you for your time.
Esten Gerriets.
Prince of Knives.
