I'm a modern man

Oh I had a dream I was dreaming
And I feel I'm losing the feeling
Makes me feel like
Like something don't feel right
[...]

In my dream I was almost there
Then you pulled me aside and said you're going nowhere
I know we are the chosen few
But we're wasted
And that's why we're still waiting

-Arcade Fire, "Modern Man"

Friday's Soundtrack

Like drinking poison, like eating glass...

Photo Cred

Ambient, adj. and n

Pronunciation: /ˈæmbɪənt/

Etymology: < Latin ambientem present participle of ambīre to go about, < amb- on both sides, round, about + ī-re to go. Compare Italian ambientebefore 1600.

A. adj.

1. Turning round, revolving. Obs. rare.

2. Moving round, circling about (something). rare.

3. Lying round, surrounding, encircling, encompassing, environing.

4. esp. Surrounding as a fluid; circumfused.

5. Rounded like a solid body. rare.

6. Ambitious, aspiring. (A Latinism.) Obs. rare.

7. As an epithet of the air, often ignorantly put for ‘limpid,’ or otherwise misused.

B. n. [The adj. used absol.]

1. A canvasser, suitor, or aspirant. Obs. rare.

2. An encompassing circle or sphere.

3. Astrol. The ambient air or sky.                                                  (OED)

American Flâneurism

"The Flâneur"

He considers the boulevards ideal for thinking,
so he takes the air on a weekday evening
to best appreciate the crisis of modern life.

I thought I would try this for a while,
but instead of being in Paris, I was in Florida,
so the time-honored sights were not available to me
despite my regimen of aimless strolling—

no kiosks or glass-roofed arcades,
no beggar with a kerchief covering her hair,
no woman holding her hat down as she crossed a street,
no Victor Hugo look-alike scowling in a greatcoat,

no girls selling fruit or sweets from a cart,
no prostitutes circled under a streetlamp,
no solitude of the moving crowd
where I could find the dream of refuge.

I did notice a man looking at his watch
and I reflected briefly on the passage of time,

then I saw two ladies dressed in lime-green and pink
and I pondered the fate of the sister arts,
as they stepped into the street arm in arm.

Who needs Europe? I muttered into my scarf
as a boy flew by on a skateboard
and I fell into a reverie on the folly of youth
and the tender, distressing estrangement of my life.  (9-10)

Melancholic

And this is the house where I
I feel alone
Feel alone now

And this is the house where I
Could be unknown
Be alone now

Soon the waves and I found the rolling tide
Soon the waves and I found the rip tide

"This means something. This is important." -Roy Neary

I wish that I was just alluding to a cool 80's sci-fi movie with the borrowed title of this post, but rather, I am strongly suggesting that you read this article:

Ghosts Riding Paris

On a bike blog that I read, I came across this funky mix of ghosts, fixed-gear cycling culture, and techno. The description of the project can be read below the video (Caution, lots of pretension ahead). Kind of cool if you like bikes. If you don't, it might look kind of dumb. If you need some help enjoying it, just think about how cool the idea of an intimidating, night-riding peloton of ghost riders haunting Paris. Oh, and one of them has a wicked beard. That's kinda cool isn't it? Well, that is, at least until someone decides to make it into a feature-length film.



Here is a description of the "project" taken from the youtube page of the video:

Project "Ghostrider" was born form the desire of two fixed gear passionates who decided to film their night strolling in the french capital city.

Fond of images (the first one is a film director, the one a photgrpaher) (Editor's note: It's obvious the neither one of them is a writer) and fixies, Jérémy and Anto, aka //Les Darons//, catch the adrenalin spirit of the discipline inside their cameras. The first opus "Ghostrider" is soon massively shared (Editors note: I haven't seen the first video, and I couldn't find it after a brief search, so take the use of "massively" with a grain of salt). A year later, it's time for "Ghostrider II", with only one leitmotiv  the search for danger that brings out the filthiest instincts  (Editor's note: Okay, these guys take themselves way too seriously...seriously...serious, man.)

As a result, they created a mind blowing video you cannot look away from (Editor's note: Seriously...), since the mastered elegance of the black & white contrasts with the frightening visual reality, increases bu the oppressive beats of Gesaffelsetin, the new prodigy of the techno scene.

The producer's atmosphere seduced the riders and the idea of a collaboration naturally grew up. "Viol" (from his upcoming "Conspiracy Pt. 2" EP, out July 19th on Turbo Recordings , full of howling and heady sirens, was obviously the right track to illustrate this out-of-time night ride. (Editor's note: Have these guys considered a career in academia? They are just vague enough that I'm sure they could publish frequently. They would be especially successful in a Visual Studies program.)

The crew is now chock-full of ideas and carious projects so watch out ! [sic] (Editor's note: Okay, maybe they could use some lessons in punctuation.) You might run into them at dawn...

José Emilio Pacheco Among the Ruins

As I prepare for exams I have very much enjoyed reading the poetry of José Emiliio Pacheco once again. As it turns out, he is scheduled to receive an award in Mérida the day of my exam defense and my adviser was invited. We may have to change the dates of my exam, but if my adviser ends up going, he is going to try and get a signature for me from my favorite poet. I also really love the later prose poetry of Borges, but since I haven't read Borges for a month or so, and I am currently reading Pacheco, at the moment I can say that Pacheco is my favorite poet. Now that I have been to Mexico City, I find that I feel even more connected to his poems, as he often alludes to specific locations around the city (as he did in Las batallas en el desierto). The following two poems are poems that explore the idea of poetry as ruins, enjoy. (Photos my own)

Chapultepec: La calzada de los poetas

              En el Bosque de Chapultepec y cerca del lago hay
                   una calzada en que se levantan monumentos de
                   bronce a los poetas mexicanos.
                                              Guía de la Ciudad de México

Acaso más durable que sus versos el bronce
y nadie alza los ojos para mirarlos.
Aquí en el bosque sagrado,
cerca del lago y la fuente,
enmedio de los árboles que se mueren de sed,
por fin se encuentran en paz.

La hojarasca de otoño les devuelve en la tarde
palabras que dejaron sin saber para quién ni cuándo.

Y perduran en bronce porque escribieron.
(No para estar en bronce escribieron.)

Extraña sensación esta vida inmóvil
que sólo se reanima cuando alguien los lee.

¿Qué leemos
cuando leemos?
¿Qué invocamos
al decirnos por dentro lo que está escrito por ellos
en otro tiempo, incapaz
de imaginar el mundo como es ahora?

Algo muy diferente sin duda alguna.
Se gastan las palabras, cambia el sentido.

Aquí bajo el sol, la lluvia, el polvo, el esmog, la noche
yacen los prisioneros de las palabras.

Tarde o temprano: Poemas 1958-2000. 3ra ed. revisada, corregida, y aumentada. México: FCE, 2000. (436).

El futuro pretérito

(Nuevos poetas, 1925)

En la ciudad hay temor. Estallan bombas.

Dejan por todas partes un reguero de muerte

y de mutilaciones.

En cada esquina se produce un asalto.

Grupos innominados

asesinan a alguien por lo que hizo o no hizo.

Arde una guerra que no encuentra nombre.

Unos contra otros, todos contra todos.

Reina el dinero que no vale nada.

Sin embargo la vida continúa.

Se habla mal de la gente,

se hacen reuniones

y se forman parejas. 

Se maquina un futuro

que no será como lo imaginamos.

El extranjero dale del hotel.

Va por la calle entre los asaltantes,

los mendigos ubicuos,

los cambistas de dólares.

Llega a una librería de otro tiempo, otro mundo.

Aquí es donde terminan los orgullos.

Cementerio de libros,

posteridad promiscua en que conviven

La guía del buen cristiano y La función del orgasmo.

Entre tanta hoja muerta que amarillea quebradiza

surge un libro con manchas sepulcrales

--pero que nadie ha abierto.

Estremece pensarlo: nadie ha abierto

Nuevos poetas

y han pasado casi ochenta años.

Esos Nuevos poetas

deben de estar hace ya tiempo muertos.

Bajo hontanares de polvo,

cordilleras de tomos que ya nadie

volverá a leer nunca,

papel marchito por el mismo tiempo

que antes de cancelarlo

lo hizo semilla, árbol, madera, pulpa,

hoja en blanco

y novedad que un día olió a tinta fresca,

lo esperaba una ruina intacta.

¿En dónde habrá aguardado tantos años el libro

al impensable que vendrá a su encuentro

cuando el mismo

se halla mucho más cerca de todo esto

que del milenio ajeno amenazante?

Compra Nuevos poetas

y regresa al hotel y abre sus páginas.

Lee la polémica

que estremeció las letras nacionales

a mitad de los años veinte.

No se la explica:

a la vuelta de casi un siglo

todos escriben de manera idéntica.

Lo que más la conmueve

es que los polemistas se confíen

a un porvenir que hoy ya se hundió en el pasado.

Se ha convertido en tiempo inconjugable:

el futúro pretérito.

De los Nuevos poetas de este libro

no quedó un solo nombre, un solo verso.

El extranjero ve su porvenir

bajo esta cripta hecha polvo.

Tarde o temprano: Poemas 1958-2000. 3ra ed. revisada, corregida, y aumentada. México: FCE, 2000. (551-53).

Nostalgia de la muerte

"In modern times poetry is not, nor can it be, more than an underground cult, a ceremony in the catacomb."
                                                                       -Octavio Paz "Hieroglyphs of Desire." Trans. Esther Allen

Beyond the ruins...

Velimir Khelbnikov’s “Incantation by Laughter”

Velimir Khelbnikov (1885-1922)

Huidobro (1893-1948)

In class today, we discussed two interpretations of "Canto VII" from Altazor by Chilean poet Vicente Huidobro. Here is an excerpt of Eliot Weinberger's English translation of the same:

Huidobro, Vicente. Altazor (revised edition). Middletown, CT: Wesleyan UP, 2004. Page 148.

If you didn't understand anything, that's not unusual for the reader of Altazor. A popular critical reading of "Canto VII" is that language is undone by the end of the poem, and the reader is left only with nonsensical sounds. An alternate reading, by Octavio Paz, is that Huidobro achieves, in a mystic way, the perfection of poetry, that the poetry "says without saying" (Vuelta. 107. pp. 13). Paz makes an interesting point, however, I'm not sure that I will take him at his word. After all, his interpretation is, perhaps, less of a reading of Altazor and more of a reflection or projection of his mystical ideas about poetry onto the poem. Still, there is room for that reading. Whatever "Canto VII" says, or means, if it does mean, it is a product of its time, poetry of the first wave of the 20th vanguard  movement. The reason I bring it up is that most of my readers are familiar with Latin American and Spanish literature, and have read all or part of Altazor (and I know that at least one of them hates the poem). But I bring up Altazor mostly to introduce something that is new to me.

One of the early 20th century vanguard movements that I am mostly ignorant of is the Russian Futurist movement. I learned a little bit about it today. One of the Russian Futurist poets is named Velimir Khlebnikov. Khlebnikov, along with another Russian poet, invented what they called Zaum.  According to Charles Bernstein (see here), "Zaum is not a poetry of opacity, as with much later sound/idiological poetry. [Velemir] "Khlebnikov beleived that zaum would cross the barrier of national languages, as a sort of proto-Esperanto." Read more about Zaum here, then watch this video.


My professor says that when he heard the poem in Russian (he doesn't speak Russian) he knew that the poem wasn't "in Russian," but something different. For him it was akin to Huidobro's "Canto VII" from Altazor. Here is a translation of the poem to English so you can read it. If you're a reader of Latin American poetry, hopefully the next time you read/teach Huidobro, his work will make a bit more sense to you and your students.

Incantation by Laughter

We laugh with our laughter

loke laffer un loafer

sloaf lafker int leffer

lopp lapter und loofer

loopse lapper ung lasler

pleap loper ech lipler

bloop uffer unk oddurk

floop flaffer ep flubber

fult lickles eng tlickers

ac laushing ag lauffing uk

luffing ip luppling uc

lippling ga sprickling

urp laughter oop laughing

oop laughing urp laughter

Заклятие смехом

О, рассмейтесь, смехачи!

О, засмейтесь, смехачи!

Что смеются смехами, что смеянствуют смеяльно,

О, засмейтесь усмеяльно!

О, рассмешищ надсмеяльных — смех усмейных смехачей!

О, иссмейся рассмеяльно, смех надсмейных смеячей!

Смейево, смейево!

Усмей, осмей, смешики, смешики!

Смеюнчики, смеюнчики.

О, рассмейтесь, смехачи!

О, засмейтесь, смехачи!

On another note, I've wanted to learn Russian since I was a teenager and fell in love with Russian classical music. I've never made time for that goal. Hopefully, eventually, I can get there. I think it would be fun to look at transatlantic poetic influence between Russia and Mexico. However, from what I can tell, there is little to none.

Nine

In many religious traditions, the number 9 is a sacred number. It is often associated with perfection and completeness. In mystic traditions it is a magic number, with many of the same connotations. A brief example: The Christian trinity is composed of 3 beings, and is believed to be perfect (3 is also a sacred number, in part because of its relationship to the number 9). However, multiplying 3 by 3 is the perfection of something already conceived as being sacred and holy, therefore it is still more holy, perfect, sacred, important, etc. The number 9 and its derivatives show up several times in the Bible. One instance is in Galatians 5:22 when Paul explains the fruits of the Spirit, he gives 9 characteristics: "But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance: against such there is no law." In Acts 3:1 we learn that the hour of prayer at the temple is the 9th hour. In Matthew 27, Luke 23, and Mark 15 we learn that the 9th hour was when Jesus "gave up the ghost" while on the cross. These are just a few examples from Christianity. If you look for it, you will find references to the number 9 in relation to important events/times in just about every religious/mystic tradition around the world, including Pre-Colombian traditions. I like numerology, I love counting versus in poetry and finding meaning in numbers, I see the number 9 and its derivatives in many sacred traditions of my own faith. However, today the number 9 is sacred and holy to me for another reason, it is the 9th anniversary of my marriage to my best friend and wife, Shaunielle. For me there is very little that is more sacred, complete, magic, and perfect than my time with her. I love you Shaunie, happy anniversary.

Detropia, the Modern City in Ruins

A friend sent me this article, which is a review a documentary about the decline of Detroit, MI, titled Detropia. The article was compelling enough that I want to see the film. The author of the article frequently uses the word "ruins" or variations of the same to describe neighborhoods, buildings, and factories that once were full of people, people that produced, but now lie empty, abandoned, decaying, in short, in ruins.

When a person visits a site of ruins, a common reaction is to ask the question ubi sunt? Where are they, those who were once here? Another common reaction is to look upon the ruin as an artifact of remembrance, a memento mori, "I too will die and decay, like the people that once were here, like those who have gone before." Of course, this notion of transience and cyclical time was ever present in the ancient mind. However, with the rise of modernity, as early as the 17th century, a more linear model of time began to be preferred (see the first chapter of Five Faces of Modernity by Matai Calinescu). Our modern/contemporary notion of progress is based on this idea of modernity. We, as a human race, are "moving forward," gaining "more knowledge" than those who came before us. However, one of the ugly secrets of modernity is that it will chew you up and spit you out. Especially in the age of consumerist capitalism, it should be no surprise that our cities don't continue to grow outward and upward, but begin to shrink once their usefulness is surpassed. One of the dirty secrets of the economic boom of the 90's is that we are only starting to feel the effects of outsourcing and the artificial growth that occurred when manufacturing costs decreased and wages/profits increased. The worst part is that those who benefited from shipping American manufacturing jobs elsewhere, are not the ones who will pay for their decision. The promises of corporations, that they will invest in a community and be committed to a community, are as hollow as buildings where their business once thrived. Those buildings, like the promises made to occupy them, are now vacant, decaying, in ruins. We should learn from the ancients, all things are cyclical. The promise of modernity, constant progress, is not necessarily cemented to a place. All modern places will eventually fall victim to cyclical time, they will fall into ruins and be buried by nature. Perhaps, in  a distant future, they will begin a new cycle, and grow once more.

Everything Makes Sense on the Bike

I am jealous of this photo. I want to ride shaded streets in Colorado, badly. This is a shot from the most recent post of a cycling blog I read, Manual for Speed. It's not always very eloquently written (I think some of the posts are written by pro-cyclists themselves) and sometimes it's obvious an entry wasn't edited very well. However, Manual for Speed captures one thing about cycling that I love, when I'm on the bike, everything makes sense. My head is clear, I seem to know my place in the universe, in life, at work and school, family stuff all seems simple, it just all makes sense. When I'm on the bike it seems that if I just approach everything in like I do on the bike, it will work out. So I need to keep moving forward, looking back every now and then to make sure I haven't left anyone form the group behind, checking my position relative to traffic, keep working hard, give it my best, maintain speed on the flats but conserve energy for the climb, work hard to the top of a hill  and over the crest and then tuck and coast, letting the air pass over me as gravity carries me home. But then I get off the bike, and I can't seem to keep the focus, my priorities get messed up, I don't eat right. I don't sleep enough, I get grumpy. Life happens. However, sometimes, the feeling of being on the bike lingers. Sometimes I am so focused I know exactly what I need to do, when to do it, and how to do it; I get that gratification that comes, not just from accomplishing something, but nailing it, and knowing that you are good at what you do, that you will make it, and that everything's going to be okay. Some days I'm a great husband and father, a great teacher, a good colleague, everything clicks, just like when I'm on a great ride. I know sports analogies are tired and cliche,  but I think there is a reason they surface so much. If athletes in other sports have an experience similar to mine when I ride, the sports analogy can't help but surface, because everything makes sense on the bike.

Relax...

...and listen to "It Never Entered My Mind," one of my favorite tracks by The Miles Davis Quintet. Sometimes I forget how soothing music can be. If I find myself agitated or stressed, usually it is, in part, because I haven't been listening to good music.

Miles Davis - Trumpet
John Coltrane - Tenor Sax
Red Garland - Piano
Paul Chambers - Bass
Philly Joe Jones - Philly Joe Jones
   

Happy (Early) Anniversary to Us, from The Killers

I got tickets for Shaunie and I to go see The Killers for an early anniversary gift. You can't always time a concert by one of your favorite bands around your anniversary, but this worked out to be just about three weeks before our 9th anniversary, so I jumped on the chance to get tickets, knowing that Shaunie would love it. Here is her write up of the experience. Seeing the concert with my wife and best friend was almost as rad as being married to her, she is nothing short of wonderful and she has a truly beautiful heart. I am a lucky, lucky man. Without further ado, Shaunie:


A few weeks ago, a friend with ties to music industry let Ben know that The Killers would be playing a small concert in Hollywood in late September. Tickets were first sold to those belonging to the official fan club of The Killers, and then the rest of the tickets would be open to the public two days later. Ben started leaving hints at this point about some way awesome anniversary present he was hoping to give me. I didn't know what it could be. Then one morning he hid out in the room for a little while telling me to stay away from the computer. Near 10am, unbeknownst to me, he sat at the computer refreshing the browser every few seconds and as soon as the tickets went on sale he clicked the purchase button. Luckily or miraculously, the authentication code he had to enter wasn't too tricky and he snagged two tickets. He later learned from a friend that the public tickets had sold out in less than one minute. Ben was able to wait for about 20 minutes, and then he couldn't do anything but pick me up, swing me around, and yell, "We're going to see The Killers!!!" (He had planned on waiting at least a few days before telling me, but he can't keep a secret when he's excited).

A few days later the latest album from The Killers arrived and Ben immediately started listening to it. We would listen to it in the van everywhere we went and we listened to it on the way to the concert so we would know all the new songs. Ben thinks there is a bit of a Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers sound on some songs and some influence from 80's bands such as The Pet Shop Boys and The Cure, and Depeche Mode. There is also a song called "The Heart of a Girl" that sounds kind of like a U2 song. I really like the lyrics to that song, and we got to hear it at the concert too!

A fabulous friend offered to swap babysitting for the 5 hours this whole thing was going to take, and our kids were jealous, but well-behaved when we left. (A funny story: When we told the kids we were going to the concert Ben said, "We're going to bring our CD and see if we can meet them and if they can sign it." Once we got there we realized how naive that was, but when Evelyn heard this, the gears in her mind started working and she got a smile on her face and said, "Maybe you can show them a picture of us when you meet them so they know who we are too." Our kids are big fans too, cute.) When we arrived at the Fonda Theater in our minivan, there was a HUGE line wrapping around the block. My heart sank at the thought of waiting in this ridiculously long line. Ben wanted to walk up to the front to see what the line was all about and whether these were people with tickets or people wanting to try and get into the show at the last-minute. We got to the front and after seeing an opportunity Ben smoothly maneuvered us into the front section of the line without anybody noticing. We found out that, somehow, 1300 people are supposed to cram into this modest theater. 

After walking past the well-equipped bar, we headed upstairs to the balcony seating, and found single seats here and there, but there weren't two seats together. So we ended up sitting separately for most of the concert, I was on the aisle seat of a row and Ben was in the aisle seat of the row behind me, so we could talk and hold hands still. It was interesting to see that most of the people at the concert were about our age. Still, that didn't stop some guy from making fun of us as we left in out minivan with Idaho plates. But he was a Red Sox fan, and we all know how Red Sox fans are.

 All the pictures we took of us in this dark theater look goofy. I couldn't stand the bright flash, and Ben was trying to take our picture and stay in the photo at the same time. And that lipstick? You can't trust those color buttons at the store. I thought I was buying a red/pink blend. As it turns out this tube is bright fuchsia. The girls think it's awesome. It also takes 18 hours to wear off. But I still kind of like it. 

I wish our camera could show how close we were seated, it looks farther away than we really were. We were close enough that I could make out facial expressions and everything.

 It. Was. Awesome. From beginning to end.

Below you can see a video of the opening and a bit of the first song, "Runaways," from their latest album, Battle Born. The camera did pretty good with the sound, but it doesn't even come close to capturing just how loud it was in there. When they played songs such as "Mr. Brightside," "When You Were Young," or "Smile Like You Mean It" it was just super loud, Ben loved it (You can hear him yelling, "Yeaaahhhhh!" in the video when the band walks out onto the stage). They played a good mix of songs from all of their albums (set list below). In the middle of the concert The Killers slowed things down a bit and played some of their ballads, which are my favorites. They also performed "Moon River," by Johhny Mercer and Henry Mancini, a song that is referenced in some of their own songs.  

Here you can see Brandon's synthesizer stand is a lightening bolt like the one on the cover of the album, it changes all sorts of colors depending on the lighting scheme.

 We didn't end up with any super-crazy drunk people around us, which is nice, though they always provide a bit of entertainment for me. 

 Or maybe I was just too focused on the concert to notice any crazy people. 

 I may have lost a degree of hearing, but I think this was worth it. I had planned on bringing ear plugs, but forgot. 

 It was so much fun. It feels like it was a dream. We still can't believe we got to see one of our favorite bands live! What are we going to do next year for our 10 year anniversary to top this? I have no idea.

(This is the ending of the song "Human," Gordon's favorite song by The Killers. After I walked the girls to the bus stop the next morning, Gordon and I went home and I showed him the videos and pictures from the concert. Of course he liked this one the best and he wondered why the didn't play the beginning of the song for him on the video. :) What a sweet boy. 

The kids are a bit jealous that they didn't get to go. So we're thinking of picking up a copy of this DVD from their last tour and asking uncle Dan if we can watch it his house on his big TV with great sound so the kids can pretend that they got to go to a concert as well.

Here is the set list from the concert, we got to sit right next to each other for the encores because some people left after The Killers left the stage for the first time:

Runaways
Heaven Ain't Close
Smile Like You Mean It
Spaceman
Flesh and Bone
For Reasons Unknown
Bling (Confessions of a King)
Miss Atomic Bomb
Human
Here With Me
Dustland Fairytale
Moon River (by JOhnny Mercer and Henry Mancini)
Read My Mind
Mr. Brightside
All These Things That I've Done

Encores:
Heart of a Girl
Jenny Was a Friend of Mine
When We Were Young

Nostalgic Synth Pop

I love 80's synth-pop. It's even better when it has some saxophone mixed in. When I heard the song "Midnight City" by the French band M83 I was instantly hooked. I bought their two-disc album Hurry Up, We're Dreaming last night and I listened to it while I prepared an exam. What I love about it is that it sounds like the 80's without reverting completely back to a pure 80's sound. There's not much there lyrically, but like Duke Ellington, or Abraham Lincoln once said, "If it sounds good, it is good." (Hey, this is the internet, we don't have to cite sources or even have sources.) Dig on these songs from M83, the first two videos a part of a mini-sci-fi story in images. The third one is unrelated, but apparently the band has a penchant for sci-fi as well as synthesizers. I can dig it!

Adventures in Cheese

I'm visiting my family in Idaho. Today we went to a store called Fred Meyer, it's pretty upscale. I enjoyed looking around at the varieties of foods there, I especially enjoyed the cheese counter. Dig it.

Ride to Work, if you Can and Want To

Some cyclists seem to be rather militant about encouraging more people to bike to work and around town. I'm not one of those people. I also drive a car, and I think that creating an artificial bike/car dichotomy is counterproductive. But I do really enjoy riding my bike to and from school and I hope to be able to bike to and from work in the future, you know, when I get a real job. I think that if more people in the U.S. are to bike to work or around town, we need to make it more convenient to do so. The city of Irvine is pretty bike-friendly. There are many bike paths, they are nice and wide (for the most part) and the city sweeps them regularly. But Irvine doesn't hold a candle to Portland, OR or Copenhagen Denmark. Check this out. (And why do all the Danes in this video seem so soft-spoken and friendly?)

Imparables

Riding my bike almost always feels like some form of therapy. It's hard to not enjoy it, and when I can't ride, I crave that feeling of freedom and pure joy that I feel when I'm flying through the streets of Orange County. Even when I'm climbing a nasty hill, I always know that I will get to bomb down it afterward. As my friends often say, "Any day on the bike is better than any day off the bike." Very true. Here is a short video of some folks from Catalunya that enjoy cycling despite the challenges they face. I think that they too feel some sort of freedom when they are on their bikes.

Unstoppables. Video 1. from black train films on Vimeo.