Sun, Aug. 3rd, 2014, 05:26 pm
I spoke with the MSF on Friday. They want me to come in for an interview and "riding assesment" on the 10th.
I told them I'd be there.
I have to go to Harrisburg and talk to some guys.. assuming they like me then I need to take the riding assesment.
I told them I thought that part would be fun ; )
So.. luck.. where does that come into it?
My CBR is gone. I sold it last year. My Goldwing is at a friends in NJ. Running well he tells me.. but unplated and uninsured. The KTM is outside on the lawn.. just fired her up last night.. she still needs a footpeg and the throttle tube is damaged but she runs. Also unplated and uninsured.
Next monday I have to ride something to Harrisburg.
It'll be fine, How I don't know.. but it will be fine.
I should have gotten a bike on the road last year. I should have gotten my jacket sent out to Motoport and had it fixed. I should have done all these things.. but I just built the house instead and the rest will just have to sort itself out.
I have my boots, helmet, I have a pair of my favorite gloves.. I have an old mesh jacket that fits just fine and anyone who isn't a gear snob that turns their nose up at cordura would be happy with. I've got my leather too.. forgot about that one.
So just a bike. In ten days. I am lucky and I have good friends. I know I'll have a bike by then. One will just show up. I sent out an email. The luck part is me mostly hoping someone has a nice dualie in the garage. I don't want to pry my big ass onto some CBR600.
Oh, and apparently I'm a junkie. Yeah, I'll be a Rider Coach. Fuck it.
Everyone dies. Not everyone bothers to live.
I took today off. This means I spent most of my day watching pirated television shows (Person of Interest rocks you dumb asses!) and goofing off on the internet.
For me "goofing off on the internet" has always involved a bit more .... well I honestly don't know what. I spent my day reading up on the FCC's debacle and the attempt to consolidate the internet under the control of a few different American companies. It pisses me off.. but ..
For whatever reason giving up does not come easily to me. Just born a pain in the ass I guess. I have called my State Senators and Congressmen. I have called my local newspaper (to explain to them what the "Internet" is apparently..) I signed any petition I could and did everything I could think of. It will all be for naught I am sure..
The net neutrality people my age and older have always taken for granted will likely be destroyed in the next year. They will dress it up in pretty terms.. they will tell us it's to protect our freedoms! Just like the Patriotic Act!
The part that amazes me is that kids, let's define "kids" as anyone under 30, don't seem to believe there is anything they can do to stop this. Ever. I was reading the comments on an article on Reddit and one commenter asked "If the FCC pushes this through what can we do to stop them?"
I told him we could collectively hurt these ISP's at will. We could stop calling the FCC and begin calling our internet providers. If enough of us cancelled our service due to a threat to real net neutrality they would begin to see who has the power here.
They seem to believe it cannot be done. They tell me there are many things that cannot be done without the internet. When I ask why.. I get confused responses and vague references to banking and ... looking up phone numbers. I tell them "Go get a phone book. They keep them at the post office. They are free" and I find links to the various banking services who will allow you to deal with them on the phone instead of the net and ..
They still insist it's not possible to live for a few months without an internet connection. I tell them "You need to deprive these companies of your money if you wish them to listen. Go to Starbucks. go to McDonalds. Use the free wifi. Go to your local public library. Whatever.. just keep your money out of their hands. We are in charge here."
And they tell me that without the net they will lose their jobs. They will fail out of college. They will not be able to do anything.
So basically we're fucked. Heads up Bridge Generation.. We watched them make it..
We will watch it destroyed. It's been a hell of a show!
How it made the kids so fucking weak I'll never know.
got drunk at a Lagwagon show sometime in 1996 and tried to jump over a Cadillac because it was there and he fell and cut his leg open and drank another 40 and then we got into a fight with the cops because you're not supposed to jump the turnstiles at the PATH train but we spent all the money on beer.
But it's hard to remember.
That might not have happened at all.
And I don't care.
If I have kids they will have ... interesting stories about the old mans music.
and headaches. Fuck it. The genes are strong.
A friend of mine just called me. We spoke for awhile.
A stranger called me earlier today. His name was Carlos. He asked me if I was still interested in being an MSF Rider Coach. It's the 2nd time he has called me.. maybe the 3rd. Maybe the 4th. The last couple of times I was in a coma, who knows.
I had told him the story a long time ago. He knew what had happened. I recall nothing.
My friend.. the nameless one.. I'm like that I guess.. he said I should consider it. I adore the MSF program. It keeps dipshits like me alive. We need a little help.
My wife does not like it. She would prefer I do not ride. She said this in terms like "I already know you are going to whatever you think is right. I know I have no influence here. I know you love it."
She says this because she would prefer I live. She is concerned another call.. someday .. sometime .. will tell her I'm in the hospital again.
I know this is because I am lucky enough to have people in my life who want me alive no matter what needs to be sacrificed. I know I am lucky.
The nameless friend reminded me that 10 years ago he met me in a t-shirt and jeans. No helmet. On a GL1200.
And he just got off a GL1500 in his 1 piece and helmet + gloves.. because some big tough Irish motherfucker told him it was right. Tough enough and hard enough and again and again and again and again..
because that's how it works. That's how my people work. The best of us are dumb as nails and need the kicking.
.. and I know where to kick them, he says. And I know how. And he gave me a list of others in the last decade.. others in t-shirts and jeans who are now full gear snobs and still alive. Some of them are my friends.
I had forgotten. I've always been good at that.
And I know what's right. And I've always been good at that.
And it's hard this time.
But ... well.. honestly it's a nice IPA and it was on sale at the beer distributors and ..
well fuck it. The AK will take care of any complaints.
Sat, Dec. 14th, 2013, 03:59 am
( Building barns in the snow? Yeah.. why not.Collapse )
That was yesterday. Today I have another 6" on the way.. 2-3 of it down already. Tomorrow, weather permitting, I can put in the rafters.
It's sheer idiocy to be building this stuff in December. But fuck it.. it is what it is. Tomorrow rafters.
Lou Reed is dead.
RIP Lou.. or whatever the fuck you'll do down there instead.
I have often wondered if I should have been born elsewhere. I've lived many places and entitled to live in more than most. Then I remember ...
Dirty East till I die. Really wasn't any other option.
If I am ever truly amazed and in awe of a thing.. anything.. I have one epitaph that my brain declared sacred sometime in 1992. I don't say it often. Last time I did my little sister was there and I forget what it was we were looking at.. I said
"Punk fucking rock."
All that's left out here is the rest of the taping and paint. Done by Halloween.
and when in doubt I know what keeps me moving.
Sourdough starter cultured from a locally grown apple, water, flour and time. Dough mixed in the only bowl I have with the only tool I have.. the spatula.
Cooked at 500 in my new oven until she was perfect.. so crusty and just right that I can still hear the crust popping and chattering now.
The bread out here sucks. Life goes on.
Born sometime this afternoon.. the provenance of this little girl is a straight up luck story. Her mother is a true black Alpaca that is close on 16 years old. That's on the old side sadly. She was given to us for nothing by a woman in NJ who was trying to downsize her herd and thought we would provide a good home.
Black alpacas are rare and worth good money. The fiber sells for more too. She was pregnant when we got her and we had no idea what she had been bred with.. but .. luck.. Irish.. and so on.
Now we just need to name her. I suggested "Fuzzy McSlimey" but I suspect it will be vetoed.