a quality of life issue

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quiet the monkey mind

May 30, 2016

Parkinson's law of triviality is C. Northcote Parkinson's 1957 argument that members of an organisation give disproportionate weight to trivial issues.[1] He observed that a committee whose job was to approve the plans for a nuclear power plant spent the majority of its time on discussions about relatively minor but easy-to-grasp issues, such as what materials to use for the staff bike-shed, while neglecting the proposed design of the plant itself, which is far more important but also a far more difficult and complex task.

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before white shoes after labor day

May 26, 2016

done fucking around with permutations of rise and sweep and setback and reach shimmed out with a beer can and now I need to actually ride this thing and let it evolve 

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unachievable ideal

May 25, 2016

I like to leave a little something to the imagination some dead air some negative space some room to breathe not leaving it all up to punctuation your mind will connect the dots no matter how far apart they are no matter how hard you try not to the unwritten rule unspoken understanding unachievable ideal it’s out there it’s hard to describe but I know it when I see it and that’s not it and I’m not angry I’m disappointed but you can find something like it on the odd side of the street kitty corner from the coffee shop not that coffee shop that coffee shop lather rinse repeat as needed repeatedly it’s all been said before


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sort of out of sorts

May 24, 2016

that canned beer taste in a can

May 23, 2016

same as it ever was

the specially lined can that gives you that canned beer taste... ...in a can

same as it     ever     was


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the feel of a well worn Rich Beyer sculpture

May 19, 2016

This Rich Beyer sculpture used to live on a rotting log near the playground that used to be across from what used to be the Hugo House in what now is considered Cal Anderson Park. The sculpture lived there for 20 years or so inviting kids to climb on it as much as allowing junkies to puke on it. The cast aluminum held up well. When the reservoir was capped  and the astroturf unrolled and the various reflecting pools and teletubby hills were installed the dragon was quietly trucked off into the woods of West Seattle where it now lives near a playground in Lincoln Park and that’s where I saw it last weekend.


You may know Rich Beyer and not even know it because of this "people waiting for the interurban" in Fremont. For me living in the salad days of Capitol Hill just a block away from the dragon I got to know it pretty well before I ever knew the artist’s name. Years later I got to know Mr. Beyer a little bit when he and his wife took me and my girlfriend out to dinner and we discussed his creation of a memorial artwork sculpture for Yianni to be placed under the viaduct. The city was down with it in its initial form but Yianni’s family was not into it and the idea was put away into the archives.


Climbing on this dragon again connected some dots and brought back a lot            like olfactory memory or a song that’s connected forever to something yesteryear.  


It's 1992 and I'm a daycamp counselor wrangling a whole bunch of other people's kids asking them to please stop beating the shit out of each other and take turns on the dragon.

24 years later I'm repeatedly repeating myself but these kids are mine. 


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9 o'clock on a Saturday

May 15, 2016

Give me a box cutter and I will unpack 65 department store kids bikes then standing back to look at the pile of cardboard foam zipties and plastic shit instead of making some touchy feely environmental impact statement I will mutter well above under my breath something about box cutters and jet fuel’s inability to melt steel and bring down well constructed skyscrapers neatly in their own footprint.


Give me a gallon of McDonald's coffee and a flat of Safeway donuts and I will experience chest pains hypertension and neck muscle spasms.


Give me an adjustable wrench long enough and I will round out cross thread shear off the robot gorilla tight 13mm stem bolt on more than one cheap kids bike.

Give me an air compressor plugged into a succession of extension cords and I will blow the shit out of more pinched inner tubes than you could possibly replace before 9am on a Saturday.

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the big one

May 12, 2016

when shit goes down and things blow up because the big one hit and people are standing around looking at their dead phones tapping swiping tapping swiping unable to feed their fucking facebook feed because there's no internet no electricity no running water no refrigeration no snapchat no uber no shazam no one bus away no linked in no google    

when everything is fucked there's no app for that

please refer to your Chunk 666 manual for instruction on how to proceed     

when the shit goes down I want Colin on my team

this is one of Colin's bikes 

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19 years ago today

May 12, 2016

19 years ago I never thought I'd use the words insulated and curtains in the same sentence and I'd have to look at a map an actual paper Thomas Guide map to find an address in Rainier Beach and I might have to put 35 cents in a pay phone to call my dispatcher 

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"it's not about the bike" again with feeling

May 11, 2016

this picture is a couple years old but it never gets old

there's something special something meaningful something that makes me smile in the thought of wearing a black pilderwasser live-wrong bracelet stacked on back-to-back with a used-to-be-ubiquitous yellow livestrong bracelet

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six pack rings round his neck

May 10, 2016

School district

Choice school

Wait list

Geo zone

Tie breaker

Sibling advantage

Pre school

Round trip

Mini van

Weed whacker

Grey hair

Shopping list

Swimming lessons

Balance bike

Summer camp

Shoe size

Fish sticks

Tater tots

Hop scotch

Maybe Monday

Tall boy

18 pack

Six pack

Ring collection

Light rail

Duffel bag

DANK bags

Custom made

Insulated curtains

Heating bill

Room temperature

White noise

Nap time





don't stop now


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Happy Mother's Day

May 8, 2016

if you dare wear short shorts

May 7, 2016

comes around. and around. then around again and the kids think they're onto something new.

trends tend to submerge and resurface later with slight variation and new names like 27.5

i'm not making this up i'm just regurgitating referencing respecting original sources

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kids these days

May 3, 2016

bartender says "why the long shadow?"

May 2, 2016

got 99 fake selfies but this ain't one

May 1, 2016

the fake fake selfie 

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point of view

April 29, 2016

adjustable stem maxed out riser bar cocked forward bar ends poking up riding high on a sprung out bouncy front suspension it makes my wrists hurt and my jaw hurt in a TMJ way and if I was a shop mechanic I would respect this setup with extra caution like dealing with a wounded animal but being a bike mechanic in an unconventional context the first thing I get to do is yank that cockpit and fling it across the parking lot so I can replace the stem and bars with something a bit more durable functional versatile traditional  

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let's roll

April 28, 2016

Fleetfoot messengers never had to pass piss tests

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drink beer, ride bikes, you know the rest

April 26, 2016

Steve Young is rounding up a posse this weekend

for real



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April 22, 2016


your name embroidered on it

--Sarah Galvin

There will be a meteor shower at 3am,

this Kate Bush album is good,

Nick, who I sort of knew, died yesterday—

I tell you anything.

I told you when a guy in Pioneer Square 

yelled at me, “Someone just 

died back there!”

I heard sirens

Then he added, “Ya got a nice butt!”

I could think of 

no better response to death.

I told you that when Nick died I pulled his old bag, 

embroidered with his nickname, “Fingers,”

from under my bed and cried, 

thinking of a painting he made 

of a refrigerator with a forest inside it.

I told you the lace of peeling gray paint

surrounding an electrical meter

which no one else would notice but you

made me feel like a moderately-priced car 

rattling from outrageously

loud, clear speakers.

All these words would be depleted by your absence

like the word “Fingers” on that bag

I could walk around complimenting strangers’ butts,

except “butts” would mean something different if you died

and so would “compliments.”

I wouldn’t know what to pull from under my bed

or put back.



- See more at: http://cityartsonline.com/articles/your-name-embroidered-it#sthash.9WJDOVYr.dpuf

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