Sort of like Suzanne you know that she's half crazy but that's why you want to be there and she feeds you tea and oranges that come all the way from China
but we’re talking Sally here and he has solid steel bikes that come all the way from China delivered right to your door
There really is a Sally Claus There is No really, there is
This is not your dad’s old Raleigh but your dad would not feel out of place on this bike The respectfully neo-retro Port Townsend features proven technology and no fluffy trendy shit. Full fenders and bar end shifters. This bike has more steel than Johnstown and I do believe "Port Townsend" sounds better than "Pittsburgh" Your dad might throw it in the stand one day for an overhaul and expect to find a square taper bottom bracket and a quill stem. However he will encounter outboard bearings at the BB and an 1-1/8” threadless headset. But it is 2011 after all “dad” and Dura Ace has been trickling down through Ultegra to Tiagra to Sora for years.
Work continues on my Steel Bike Philosophy PhD, which began back in 1975 when the training wheels came off the midget Sting Ray and I rode around the block unassisted. Here and now in 2011, I’m throwing a leg over another steel bike, a brand spanking new steel bike and shifting gears in more ways than one.
those that punch a random time on the microwave and watch it go round a while, then stop it when they feel like their food is warm
and
those that program the microwave timer precisely according to instructions and then wait patiently until the specified time expires before they eat their meal
there are those that make ridiculous two-kinds-of-people statements
How many bike messengers does it take to screw in a light bulb?
One.
But by the time you heard the story it was epic, it was brutal, it was so much more hardcore, it was ten hour days back in the day, pulling down 65 tags, riding 75 miles covering Georgetown to the U-district, Bainbridge Island to Bellevue. Rolling out of RVs with 30 drops and 30 picks to do before the next one. There were over 200 messengers in Seattle and all of them were making over $200 per day.
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...and you may find yourself, behind the wheel of a large automobile
just when you thought it was safe to get back in the water take me to the river drop me in the water it’s the water there’s a reason they brew great beer here a coffee cart on every corner diuretics shmiuretics it’s like riding a bike like a messenger dehydrated as well as soaking wet water water everywhere not a drop to drink cotton mouth & trench foot two great tastes that taste great together moss mold mildew moisture may be or maybe not in all the right places super saturation the slightest agitation precipitating the precipitate answers no longer in solution just because we’re on an elevator we don’t have to talk about the weather
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Nothing says pilderwasser in December better than this here four-year-old stock photo of Wilson roasting chestnuts with ladies from the Sonics dance team in front of the Four Seasons hotel. Year after year. Not that it never gets old, it just keeps coming back like Vince Guaraldi’s Charlie Brown Christmas.
operating under the assumption one is better than the other greater than not equal to over thinking binge drinking French roast hangover palpitating chest pain intermittent showers turning to rain rolling resistance friction rusty chain standard deviation lubrication station from Pike to Pine in a matter of minutes that last step is a doozy
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I’m not taking as many photos as I have in the past and maybe that’s why Rob and Craig both sent me some in the last few days and Bret in ABQ too and I poached from Seth this morning. The top two photos you see here were taken by Craig but they reminded me of the two photos seen below. When I take a photo it usually triggers something in my photographic memory and reminds me of a photo I took 5 or 12 or 3 years ago… …something I put in kickstand or on this here site, so when I have a string of words I need to get out of my head and I’m looking for a picture to accompany them sometimes I just skip a few steps and dip into the pilderwasser archives instead of pulling out my camera which at 3.2 mega pixels is so-seven-years-ago it’s like an ancient artifact. Little little kid’s dolls now come with 12 mega pixel cameras built into their eyes and sell at retail prices lower than the Six Million Dollar Man action figure doll my mom bought me as a kid which had one bionic eye to look through, however it was just a cheap-ass little plastic lens as I discovered one day when I smashed Steve Austin’s head enough to remove the lens for inspection and then I felt I was grownup enough to not even try and put it back looking back I’m glad I at least got some wear and tear out of him and didn’t leave it in the package to try and preserve the resale collector bullshit value you see shrinkwrapped for sale just a few clicks away today on eBay ask me about the vivisection of Stretch Armstrong someday by the way thanks for the photos Craig and Rob and Seth and Bret and Lane
traffic is a real polar bear but these boots weren’t made for walking they best push platform pedals to the bar for a beer
a shop-vac in the left hand a fishing pole in the right there’s a story there somewhere tiptoeing along an imaginary line
separating dream from reality in another dimension on another axis dividing one eyebrow from the other boredom is the brother of invention
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Howdy. My name is Mark and I was a bike messenger in Seattle for 12 years and now I’m working at MadFiber about 20 feet away from Justin Littell (another former messenger) and he said you may be interested in the ENO freewheel that I’ve enclosed in the envelope. Perhaps you can put it in the White Industries petting zoo. It’s returning home after years of real world testing and abuse and it’s still more smooth and silky than any brand new ACS claw.
I bought it barely used at nearly full retail price at Second Ascent in Seattle in 2006. I put it on a single speed cross bike and rode it gently for a bit before I rode it across Iowa on RAGBRAI that same year. Then I rode the shit out of it for a couple years as a bike messenger here in Seattle. I did nothing to the freewheel except ignore it, as I wore through a couple chainrings and replaced the chain a few times. Doing nothing except pulling the wheel back in the dropouts to suck up the slack chain tension. I rebuilt the hub into a new rim once too because of Seattle Sidewall Syndrome, burning through brake pads and tires and blowing out Carhartts and Dickies. Drinking and working through dark Seattle winters as a messenger, the White Industries freewheel was the last thing on my mind. I finally stopped riding it after a couple years when the teeth were shark-finned enough to drop the chain just dropping off curbs.
I’ve had it hanging on the wall in my shop for a while as a tangible reminder of years past. And I’ve been too lazy or clueless to try and rebuild it.
In my single speed life, I’ve blown through countless ACS Claw freewheels and several Shimanos too. They have a relatively short lifespan in Seattle weather and often offer audible indicators of when it’s time to let them go and buy another. Unlike your amazing freewheels, the ACS bearings and pawls go way before the teeth.
Cheers to you. I admire and respect your products.
two months was forever ago six months is a career seven minutes for a pick and 2 drops the clerk’s office is closed what were we talking about?
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is this real life
November 20, 2010
Visualize a professional cyclist being poked prodded and praised by a bunch of engineers tweaking his time trial position
narrow low and aero
OK now OK now is this real life?
visualize me riding a 30lb basket bike on a Library-Red Apple-beer-run hammering out of the saddle and into the wind up hill struggling to get home before kickoff on a cold Saturday afternoon
heavy slow lugged steel 12-pack of IPA
utility cycling in November means raising your saddle 13mm riding in Red Wing boots
two wrongs don’t make a wronger but it adds up to one short of wrongest
you can’t win them all unless you’re a Catholic high school football team
Insanity: doing the same thing everyday and expecting different results.
Hand-made-in-Seattle: doing slightly different things each day and hoping for the same results.
One at a time.
One of a kind.
Going in with reasonable expectations. Using just the right amount of entropy, seasoned with wabi-sabi. Things get interesting when you toss in a few ghosts from the past and varying environmental conditions. The absence of robots is a good thing although it is acknowledging the possibility for human error. Coming out at the end of the day, sometimes the recipe tweaks the tweeker. 2 Comments | Add Comment | Permalink
hit it with some 80 grit
November 17, 2010
blind faith in a ziploc bag will get you nothing but a small mess to clean up
an unhealthy attachment to a ballpoint pen is as reasonable and understandable as wanting to see a relationship from beginning to end to be there when the ink runs out
the unmistakable sound of an 8mm allen wrench clanging on the sidewalk dropped from the balcony of a four-story condo featuring ground-level retail and off-street parking
it’s all fun and games until repeated 50,000 times mental fatigue metal fatigue spring steel sprung overextended unintended outlier like a baby binder clip pushed beyond its limits
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chain suck
November 16, 2010
Sunday Monday Today half a world plus a stone’s throw away sidling right up to without going over the fine line separating just-right from 98109 elevation gains cutting losses conservation of potential energy electro-statically charged to keep the shirt tucked into the pants free range organic fucking bullshit absorbed through the pores in the skin sinking in slowly with or without express written consent
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13% lycra 87% spandex 100% chuffer head shoulders knees and nose post nasal drip slipping the nose knows can’t you smell that smell isolating the source of the odor crinkling like an adult diaper taking it all in stride bread sacks on the feet Pearl Izumi only goes so far the furthest reaches of circulation where blood sometimes ceases to flow feel phalanges freeze freezing fingers freezing toes see Mr. Louis Garneau good gloves goddamn Gore-Tex shoe covers harden the fuck up commuter sledding after school remember walking uphill both ways in the snow 5 miles in Chuck Taylors and Levis La Niña is not from Spokane
Would you like to come downstairs and see my blown-out bike part collection? I am slowly recovering from the creeping decay that was thriving on my messenger bikes. Now that I’m a full-time chuffer, my bike parts will last a lot longer than they used to.
However, I'm still seriously suffering from Seattle Sidewall Syndrome (SSS), a condition which causes the premature deterioration of wheels ridden by messengers and hardcore commuters in wet grimy winter conditions as rim brakes, especially high-power cantilevers, wear through the braking surface of the rim.
The cross section of a clincher rim after one rainy season of aggressive riding is transformed from a box shape to more of an hourglass. It’s like the brake pads are made of 80 grit sandpaper. Left unattended the wheel eventually fails when the bead of the high pressure tire can no longer be contained by the paper-thin sidewalls of the rim. The end result is a catastrophic failure one day when you’re just riding along. The tire blows up and the sidewall peels like a banana and snags the brakes, locking up the wheel. If it occurs on the front wheel you’re launched over the bars in a dramatic acrobatic display. But if you’re lucky it happens on a Sunday afternoon while you’re watching football on TV and your bike is leaning against the wall by the heater, when suddenly your tire explodes like a firecracker and propels bits of rim shrapnel and inner tube powder into your personal space, scaring the shit out of the cats.
There’s a strong correlation between SSS and Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) another common malady this time of year in the Pacific Northwest. According to the pharmaceutical industry SAD can be remedied with prescription drugs. But many people just choose to increase their caffeine and or alcohol intake. There's a noticeable shift even an oscillation along Seattle’s coffee-beer continuum. It’s as clear as setting the clocks back or the lack of daylight or the sun’s shallow winter arc across the sky up here at the 47th parallel. Bike riding or what doctors refer to as "regular exercise" is a simple elegant solution to SAD.
Seattle Sidewall Syndrome can simply be avoided by using disk brakes or riding with no brakes at all. Or you could just stop riding your bike and walk.
bare handing the business end of Occam’s razor ambidextrously androgynously either way anyway completely half ass pointed indirectly in any direction non-linear progression listless drift rudderless goal disoriented east-west movement lateral motivational infomercial success story clearly cleared the barrier cleanly pendulum passes pass predictably wait for it repeat as long as inertia remains
once there was a way to get back home and stay there once was a man from Nantucket
if there was a take-your-bike-to-work-day I’d participate enthusiastically annually it would be the least I could do because my bike takes me to work everyday
Sandbagging being lazy at a job and getting close to nothing done in a given amount of time while maintaining the appearance of working hard
Sandbagging temporary flood protection using sandbags
water gets where water goes slippery slopes slip where white knuckling won’t help off-camber Catholic guilt goes nowhere stay loose get squirrelly think 3rd Avenue cheese graters in the rain embrace your inner Jonny Sundt
clamped in the soft jaws of a bench-mount vise gentle yet firm form technique tweaked cranked cat piss sustain kitty-corner refrain catawampus in the rain pouring right next door continuing on on the coffee-beer continuum across the street the grass isn’t always greener but sometimes it really is one shoulder will always be lower than the other asymmetrical peripheral spherical maximal surface area piqued to pick just one point of contact pinpoint pretty persuasion like a little love tap from a deadblow hammer consistent accuracy precise inconsistency after the fact quality control can’t go back and retroact information readily available online like the ERD of an ME14A I can go for that but recycled boiled linseed oil no can do tangible results result hands-on production produces an indexed feel for friction shifting 2 Comments | Add Comment | Permalink
exploded head set case
October 22, 2010
just like Justin said there's no mathematical formula it's all feel
it's hard to quantify that's why they call it intangible
rolling over unfamiliar asphalt on two contact patches the size of radishes transferred in from out of stasis used to just riding along a long line of rote routines where every crack every expansion joint every pothole every pitfall every manhole every men’s room was predictably familiar and on schedule opposing counsel courtesy copy to C-203 shorthand shortcut shortchange binder clip magic tricks get old quick figuratively literally seriously how many roadmasters is too many how many cans can a canner can how many ways are there to get to 1111 especially when overcooked and crusty Foster Peppered to taste back in 1998
but now right here right now bunny hopped onto another learning curve it’s coming up sixes everywhere half dozens visible to the naked eye while invisible nipple drivers pop up all around
cinder block side walk weekend warrior workday can could shall should may might must get there from here round tripped with beer we’ve all been there where we’re good to go north by northwest down through Cool Guy Park in the dark in the morning watch out for that bump on the right onto the one way past Craig’s house the wrong way six point six six miles to the underpass pass over piles of 16 penny nails rusty red shifts to blue seasonal affect Doppler effect riding waves of last night’s dinner brown bag lunch potential energy stored up wrapped up in tinfoil buried in the bottom of a double strap backpack parallax error reads me on your left inside diameter ID o u t s i d e diameter OD obsessive compulsive disorder OCD attention deficit disorder whatever ADD permissible deviation from the specification ± .003 you talking to me aerospace industry u n b e l i e v a b l y strong adhesive overlap run out bleed out poke out spoke hole
small plastic stacking buckets hold gently used Occam’s razors parfum de fingernail polish remover Q-tip dab behind the ear acetone splash clean up rough up 80 grit wet-dry sand paper smudge in the northwest corner hand made in Seattle one at a time four times a day a little bit of wiggle room regimented time to play
please take a moment to complete the following survey
take a guess make a prediction flip a coin read the signs as if stars really do align use your words place your bets
Is it a girl?
or
Is it a boy?
results to this point are fairly even, much like a theoretical coin toss in your probability and statistics textbook, where trends tend towards 50-50, if you ever feel like spending a weekend tossing a penny 275,000 times and tallying the results
the actual boy-or-girl thing will be revealed next week
woke up one morning and looked at the clock noticed 13 years had passed but I was still sitting in the same spot standing by with more tattoos a few wrinkles around the eye
where have you been? how long were you there? what exactly were you doing? what did you plan on doing after that?
feels like leaving 13 years of marriage to reënter the dating pool looks like leaving the witness protection program to reënter the work force
the career path appears circular with a hole in the middle winding back upon itself round and round holding 120 psi clinchers… 700 c that’s 622 bsd
winding up stepping down transitioning from the streets hitting the handi-ramp hard catching some air landing who-knows-where
have to start someplace pick a landmark on the horizon a point of reference like the valve stem go back two spoke holes counterclockwise on the upstroke down by the river I’ll meet you there where close enough is ± .003" just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there smell that smell on the breeze in the air burning neurons bonding lifelong connections connect the dots acetone daydreams fade into caffeine sleep
it’s kind of like when you’re supposed to meet a rookie for a handoff and you wonder what could possibly take them so long to make two drops and one pick at 801 2nd and meet you on the backside of 999 and then you think back to your first few days on the job when you made a drop on the 22nd floor and you had a pick on 21 so you took the stairs down one floor to find a locked door then went back up to the locked door on 22 and then found locked doors all the way down to the lobby level and finally at parking level D you found a door that exited into the alley and the fire alarm went off and the security guard tried to stop you in the lobby when you came back in to make the pick on 21 after the fire department finally shut off the false alarm and that’s why your simple pick and drop took so long
it’s kind of like at the end of the day when the amount of work that gets done is similar but the amount of energy expended is much different because of all the misdirected overextended backtracking trial and error where the rookie is winded and sweating but proud of themselves for completing the task while the old vet is sipping a cup of coffee half smiling and scratching their head but relaxing because they’re already ten steps ahead and waiting for the FNG to catch up
Q: How many beer cans does it take to shim a 25.4 bar up to 31.8?
A: a few, and you’ll need to drink a few more after that until you start to feel like a big fat shim fest is a good idea.
So have another cigarette and keep holding that cell phone upside your head. Or whatever’s clever. If it seems OK today
Ask me about my asbestos pajamas
Q²: Are you always pissed off because you drink so much?
Q³: Do you drink so much because you’re always pissed off?
The fixie kid you wanted to yell at yesterday on the Burke-Gilman trail turned out to be your girlfriend’s sister’s husband’s boss’s favorite boy barista. It’s a small town. Things come around.
Q: Is there a Starbucks around here?
Sometimes you want to go where wearing the same pants everyday is A O K
Q: What’s that smell?
A: that’s dog shit, you stepped in it
Perhaps you need some SPD compatible loafers with the new pilderwasser patent pending dog-shit-shedding-tread® design
Correction occurs with time away down time off on holiday peer into the rearview mirror enhanced hindsight focus on the signs that say over the next hill there's a vantage point view of the bigger big picture relax recover return to earth like a lawn dart Come to base Complete the roundtrip no need to worry about PoD what we have here is a textbook case of messenger induced myopia Corrective lenses were put in place Circumstantially and quickly discarded the stigmatism is in remission the stigma remains Crusty Crack and peel the hard outer shell shed the waxy yellow buildup another prime example an unhealthy sample set aside for further analysis another day
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A hard-working Mayberry Police officer issued a citation to a scofflaw waitress for not wearing her helmet.
A part-time waitress riding her old Bianchi to work this morning on a quiet residential street in the Central District was “pulled-over” by a $90,000 salaried Seattle Cop collecting double overtime to stand around and wait for a funeral procession outside a quiet Catholic church.
In other news...
Alberto Contador claims tainted meat, Spanish beef in fact, was the reason he tested positive for a banned substance in this years Tour de France
Seattle is painting a few bike boxes around town in its latest attempt to catch up to Portland in the realm of transportation planning. I think it’s a step in the right direction to encourage more people to get out of their cars and get out on their bikes. However the false confidence that bike lanes often inspire in newbies and chuffers is just going to be bolstered by these green bike boxes. Flow is what occurs when an experienced urban cyclist rides through traffic blurring the lines between vehicular cycling and total disregard for the law. I don’t believe you can legislate everything by holding some hands and slapping some wrists. Painting lines on the street won’t create flow. I'm guessing it will create confusion. Flow takes a while to learn and it has to be earned. Robert Hurst explains urban cycling as well as anyone. Dave Hiller has some things to say too. And I bet John Forester is laughing so hard he's crying and he wouldn’t even like riding a bike in Portland.
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the right tool for the job
September 28, 2010
sometimes there’s a subtle sense that something is not quite right on a slow grind up the hill I catch an eye catching silver sliver glint of late September sunshine reflecting off curly cue strands of steel sprouting near the bottom bracket the look the feel the sound of threads stripping the smell of metal fatigue 7th grade shop class reminiscent it’s a long walk home in these shoes with time to think of loose balls crank arm extractors jerry-rigged Italian BB setups multi-purpose marine grease power to weight ratios and wait
fight or flight is that all there is everything Randy’s for a reason so thank you oh no no thank you but no thanks peek-a-boo view nothing but blue skies sitting on a park bench with Pete and Repeat Pete always seems to fall off who’s left right herky-jerky AD/HD like a hyperlink casserole whipped up (scroll down) out of the saddle deep in the drops but your bike is stationary you’re just a machine robot pimped riding on a hamster wheel digging ditches daily getting that dirt out of the boss’s ditch time and time again time out take a moment to look back admire the progress hope you’ll be missed hope it rains everyday hard-on the guy that gets your job like the ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend jealous see sour grapes jelly toast burnt neural pathways entrenched Seneca Street muscle memory copy Perkins Davis Foster Garvey
repeat as often as necessary
fight or flight is that all there is everything Randy‘s for a reason so thank you oh no no thank youbut no thanks peek-a-boo view nothing but blue skies sitting on a park bench with Pete and Repeat Pete always seems to fall off who‘s left right herky-jerky AD/HD like a hyperlink casserole whipped up out of the saddle deep in the drops but your bike is stationary you’re just a machine robot pimped riding on a hamster wheel digging ditches daily getting that dirt out of the boss’s ditch time and time again time out take a moment to look back admire the progress hope you’ll be missed hope it rains everyday hard-on the guy that gets your job like the ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend jealous see sour grapes jelly toast burnt neural pathways entrenched Seneca Street muscle memory copy Perkins Davis Foster Garvey
done-done done pushing the river one… two… one too many times serving up heaping helpings of warmed-over vanilla complacency middle-of-the-road pedestrian jaywalking weakly time clocking weekly day after day after day after day dainty pinky paper cuts got all the attention while major arteries were hemorrhaging used up boxes of band-aids but a tourniquet wouldn’t fix it smiling the smile of short-term solutions poking a finger in the leak du jour until another popped up over there pointing fingers let’s not go there argumentum ad hominem personal attacks invite playground comebacks I know you are but what am I there are no good guys there are no bad guys only blue eyes and brown eyes and horseshit everywhere immediate package delivery two hours early two minutes late it all paid the same it all got too easy pre-existing conditions provided strong foundations upon which to build-in handicaps the 90-day waiting period turned into 12 years
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poor little mixte stripped of its cranks front wheel was first to go
symbolically representational smells like piss poor poetry perfect placement project abandoned building stalled in this economy as worthless as last year’s J Crew catalog
Today is the day This is it really and This time it’s for real Today is the day To try the same thing and expect different results
Second guessing wardrobe decisions within six blocks of home and nine more hours of work to ride out is not a worthwhile pastime. However it is completely normal on a wet 53° Tuesday still stuck in the context of summer and orbiting the promise of Labor Day weekend like a lawn chair left in the rain representing what might have been but still hoping for what could be.
Can’t you smell that smell? Sitting standing by leaving wet spots on office building lobby furniture like soaked diaper prints spiced with road grime and unable to isolate the precise location of the odor but well aware of the smell of several months of sweet saved-up sweat unleashed by heavy rains from shoes, hats, helmets and bags especially the shoulder strap padding on dank DANK bags.
Thanks, I’ll take the next elevator… …except at One Union.
In Seattle, Tuesday could have been in February or November or April or August.
Made it through August with no fenders. Not because I didn’t need them but because it was another arbitrary goal to set and achieve looking only to the calendar and not to the weather. Like refusing to turn on the furnace until Halloween, Like not wearing gloves until November. Like not installing a front fender until December.
Water water everywhere and it’s not what you think. I have no recollection of the events in question because I was not in the central time zone less than 51 weeks before the alleged incident took place. However, no animals were harmed in the production of this production and no photoshop was necessary so it’s all in fun. Voluntary fun. Disposable income paid vacation recreation fun. Tallboy popping out of 12-ounce coozie fun.
slow down you move too fast got to make your Monday last
elbow wrinkles give it away day to day reaching for a status quo that’s so ten years ago
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"...why do you ask, Two Dogs Fucking?"
August 25, 2010
the first step is admitting Houston we have a problem with or without express written consent what’s the holdup held to a different standard holding up laying down groundwork a foundation for over expectation now it’s too late to revert to mediocre pedestrian how about a courtesy flush for the environment Seattle sits in seats facing away from each other all the better to not see you with this might be offensive a fist full of dollars now buys half as much listen hear my friend do me a favor don’t do me any favors playing good cholesterol bad cholesterol store in a cool dry place press firmly on an empty stomach do not write below this line
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have good day
August 25, 2010
The Logan Deli will be closing down as of Friday 8/27/10. It’s been in business, hidden in the basement of the Logan Building since 1985 and under current ownership since 1997. However, it can no longer survive in this economic climate (insert sound bite here) and so on and so forth. The handwritten sign in the window sums it up well and brought a tear to my eye.
Over the past several years it’s been one of my favorite Mom & Pops. Without question it's my all-time favorite subterranean Korean Deli curry chicken special. Thursday’s Mongolian Beef special had a loyal lunchhour following with lines out the door. On rainy days sitting in a folding chair perusing People magazine listening to Burt Bacharach and loading on the Sriracha, it was a basement dining experience unlike anything in Seattle. 5 Comments | Add Comment | Permalink
you can't get there from here
August 24, 2010
This is an egg This is an egg in a frying pan
This is your brain This is your brain regurgitating Reagan Years
This is you This is you getting there from here
This is Peggy This is Peggy buying salmonella-tainted eggs
expectation expectoration spit in the write direction take the wind into account take possession with intent to distribute possessed by demons exorcised daily exercise cyclical circular cycles bicycle how much respect can one expect riding recumbent
actuaries predict life expectancy actually like a strip mall Olive Gardens Cheesecake Factories TGI Fridays who needs a reason marketing Hallmark Holidays amateur hour 4 - 6 daily what did you expect a ref with a red card held aloft for all to see
ant colonies pickup and move popup in a new groove survival strategies whac-a-mole rope-a-dope and other oh so subtle signs of economic recovery news at eleven
21 and over in dog years dog eared to mark the date remember the day in the context of calendars ringing in the ear drinking so much so much beer the ears ring tinnitus is not an earring it’s the high pitch tone of a blank TV screen left on for days discovered later turned off you don’t know what you got till it’s gone Joni Mitchell got it right in the shin a glass coffee table corner been there forever never noticed read about it in a book somewhere coming back around again more like a urinary tract infection less like rage against the machine 110% half ass it’s got a handle grab on dumb it down smile and chit chat talk to your co-workers more about TV that’s what we need what the fuck did we do before facebook? priceless now back in the day couldn’t give it away
as cool as cool ranch flavor sometimes the sound of a rookie on the radio can be refreshing.But not when they’re a rookie driver and you’ve been waiting fifteen minutes for a hand-off and they’re still looking for the address, but the address they’re looking for isn’t the one you’ve been standing in front of since the dispatcher sent you there…
Was that 1326 5th or 1325 6th or 1325 4th or 1425 5th
Where are you?
I’m here dude, I’ve been here for a while, where the fuck are you?
Don’t get me wrong, I was a rookie too just like you. I once called the dispatcher on the phone to tell him an address I was looking for did not exist, only to realize a short time later that I was rolling up and down searching for the right number on the wrong street.
within the next 7 - 10 working days a fresh batch of pilderwasser American Apparel one-pieces silkscreened silkscreening silkscreens back in black size 6-12 months
I like to call them Onesies like Jell-O or Kleenex or Sheetrock
You may be able to buy one directly from the source
You may be able to buy one at full retail from Bootyland
contemplating the end of a so-called career as a messenger aka “the day I walk away” ...I sometimes think about all the people in “my neighborhood” those people that recognize me, the people that say hi, the people that cut me some slack and give me the benefit of a 12 year doubt. The mailman, the security guards, the FedEx lady, the bus drivers, the receptionists, the mailroom clerks, the court clerks, the copy center dudes, the coffee shop girl, the King County Sheriffs, the US Marshalls, the mom & pop moms and pops and even a few cops. You know you’ve been around awhile when the Marshalls at USDC ask how your lunch was because they watched you eat it on the bench outside yesterday and then they ask you about the good old days at 1010 5th. You know you’ve been around when a bus driver calls you out at a Sunday brunch with your family and then kisses you on the cheek. You know you’ve been around when drivers from other companies stop in traffic to talk. You know you’ve been around awhile if you see Ruie uptown and she asks for handlebar ride back to her office.
Roundabout traffic circles Residents meet hospital workers head-on Searching for un-zoned parking On East Spruce Street
Satanic goats bleat To the beat of a non-union garbage truck Dripping sour milk at each pause for pick-up On East Spruce Street
Neighborhood cats readjust to reinforce Their hierarchy daily and nightly Posturing puffing whining moaning On East Spruce Street
Turning to face the sun Or just waiting for the rotation of the earth It’ll come around eventually even On East Spruce Street
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at the same table
August 11, 2010
The poet is someone who feasts at the same table as other people. But at a certain point he feels a lack. He is provoked by a perception of absence within what others regard as a full and satisfactory present.
street & sidewalk pedestrian & vehicle bus & armored car attorney & opposing counsel plaintiff & defendant petitioner & respondent knock knock & who’s there bad news & best day ever doing it right & doing what the client wants dispatcher A & dispatcher B stupid is & stupid does multitasking & half-assing judge’s mailroom & 2nd floor men’s room to & from here & there dine-in & take-out coffee & beer margin & utility achievement & futility yesterday & today repetition & routine recreation & transportation safe & boring shortcut & hypotenuse predictable & professional saddle & seat of pants butt butter & jelly hung-over & sober walking walk & talking talk trained messenger & trained monkey flip flops & waffles rain shadow & Sequim commuter & weekend warrior chuffer & poseur sucker & lollipop surface tension & soap literally & figuratively vocabulary & lingo psychosomatic & South Lake Union personal space & the smell of freedom kickstand & dickstank hard working & playing hard petty details & little things
Precooked prepaid preconceived notion. Hypoallergenic rejuvenating lotion. Over inflated as if Dale Chihuly gives back to the community. Snakebite. Puncture. Failure at the valve stem. Perforated rim strip. Flat tire. Putting the cart before the horse ex post facto. Broccoli cheese stuffed up tail pipe potato. Pro Bono. On a bike ride to the moon. Perpetuating the stereotype incorrectly including the kitchen sink et al. A full bubble off plumb. Non drive side rookie tattoos. Playing poker with a pinochle deck. Black sock high top beer gut. Petite baritone surprise. Matching powder coated frame pump. Preserved in plastic stink. Raw chicken. Undercooked pork. Self-leveling microscopically thick. Both-ended candle burning. Pissing below the top tube above the bottom bracket. Purple cabbage water splatter. Roof of mouth fish hook doppelganger. Josie and Donna on 29. Forever.
disoriented like Ladd’s Addition lost where roses grow like weeds
I don’t know where I’m going but I know I’ve been here before waves of inertia break off shore
somewhere out there it stopped pushing and started asking questions
washed-up on boredom beach energy is not lost it’s transformed color sound temperature
jump on the entropy bandwagon two days after the parade only 363 days until next year
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what day is this?
July 29, 2010
48 hours in the Rose City purple mountain majesty or something like that back in the 206 after an Amtrak attitude adjustment even Tacoma looks better from a train
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Yesterday I put my Anthropology degree to use, digging a hole in the back yard in which to put a clothes line post secured by a whole lot of cement and crushed rock. Along the way I thought of various concepts like stratigraphy and carbon dating, gently digging with gentle tools, brushing the dust away with dust brushing brushes, electronic distance meters metering and mapping artifact location and carefully sifting all the dirt for anything I missed along the way all the while keeping accurate detailed notes.
But real world things kept getting in the way like sunburn, dehydration and beer depletion and and and 29 gave me a ride to Lowe’s because riding a bike home with an 80# bag of cement sucks ass.
Oh and one more thing I’d like ya’ll to keep in mind is… that same top-10 liberal arts college is still cranking out bachelors degrees but now they cost twice as much…so I got that going for me.
Out came the sun and dried up all the laundry and none of it will be reflected on the next electric bill.
At this very moment on this 24th day of July, 2010 the people of the pilderwasser collective are loading up the team bus in Grinnell and getting ready for the drive to Sioux City for the beginning of RAGBRAI. However, I’m not there with them. If I was I’d be well into another can of Miller Lite and another brief reassurance to newer team members that “it’s OK, I always drink like this”
In the absence of my typical annual busman’s holiday I’ll be taking a brief cycle-tourist Amtrak-aided jaunt to Portland. A short visit to our especially gifted sister city to the south aka PDX to slowly aimlessly ride my basket bike around with no schedule and no deadlines and no dispatcher. Cruising well within the six degrees of Matt Case.
a real bell ringing a donger thing dinging a clapper clapping heavy metal on metal below then above resonating right through the threshold of human hearing like Little House on the Prairie synthesized keystroke ring-tone microchip Casio
disco tango
polka push-button bossanova one two one two one two one bell up two bells down
Tuesday July 20 7:00pm at the Seattle Public Library
Historian David Herlihy presents an illustrated talk this evening, drawn from his new book, The Lost Cyclist: The Epic Tale of an American Adventurer and His Mysterious Disappearance (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt). This story of Pittsburgh-based long-distance racer Frank Lenz, whose dream of cycling around the world in 1892 ended with his mysterious disappearance in eastern Turkey, continues long afterward with attempts to solve the mystery and bring the accused murders to justice. "Fascinating ... Herlihy combines an admirable talent for sleuthing with the narrative skills of a first-rate storyteller." - Library Journal. David Herlihy is also the author of Bicycle: The History (Yale University Press), a long-standing reader and cyclist favorite. His work has also been featured on National Public Radio, and in The New York Times and Boston Globe.
It’s not always a smooth fresh ribbon of tarmac with a gentle tailwind and attractive scenery. It’s a journey pocked with destinations. Pass-through towns one-horse towns over-night towns. Travelers face a seemingly endless series of difficult questions. Is this real life? Why is this happening to me? I feel funny. Is this forever? However a useful coping strategy is to narrow the scope to a more manageable focus. What’s this town called? What’s for lunch? How far is the next beer store? Repeat as needed. And don’t forget lip balm spf 15+
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I have two fingers
July 16, 2010
without sufficient information blanks fill in dots connect the mind makes it make sense
smoothes juxtaposition correlates causation jumps to conclusion
ambiguity don’t sit so good on the ignorance fence I reckon
it’s bound to fall one way or the other into tall-tale gray area
Wearing a uniform is kind of fun when it’s optional. A regimented dress code is not so fun. A seating chart makes the kids grumble, but given the choice they’ll sit in the same seats everyday anyway. People like to feel like they can keep their options open even though they’re most comfortable on the same old habit trails. Ordering the usual. Drinking the drink they drank yesterday and the 364 days before that.
The art historian Bernard Berenson described his talent as a “sixth sense.” “It is very largely a question of accumulated experience upon which your spirit sets unconsciously,” he said. “When I see a picture, in most cases, I recognize it at once as being or not being by the master it is ascribed to; the rest is merely a question of how to fish out the evidence that will make the conviction as plain to others as it is to me.” Berenson recalled that once, upon seeing a fake, he had felt an immediate discomfort in his stomach .
the brown note radiates like ripples on a pond pumped from an old Oldsmobile subwoofer deep within a subterranean parking garage
freshly painted lane lines line up the same way traffic signals timed in sequence for a weekday same street signs same streets same day when it's OK to drive on one-ways the wrong way Korean Canadian tourists in German sedans South African visitors in Japanese SUVs Idaho plates seeking sweet sales at REI Oregon plates weaseling sales tax exemption
my way your way either way any way pick up next-days and do them right away "OK whatever you say" Mister Dispatcher making up the rules as you go along it’s all part of the little games you play
4-square in a round room
righty tighty but lefty righty tighty too can I get Italian cups on a 115 spindle with a side of loose balls to go? please
give me your tired your huddled masses your poorly adjusted cantilever brakes singing squealing squawking screaming Edvard Munch descending Seneca Kool-Stop resonance harmonic dissonance all you haters keep your distance
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bloody knuckle bike mechanics
July 5, 2010
it was a quality of life weekend in which I was able to spend less time at this keyboard and more time outside outdoors out in the open getting my hands dirty and bloody and chocolaty and greasy in both bottom brackets Italian threaded and bratwurst Italian sausaged and so and then dipped in $14 jars of Williams-Sonoma pickles using the slope guide to eyeball the yard between World Cup matches on the telly wearing two sweaters and a jacket and two hats standing in the rain for hours that fourth day of July blowing up beer bottles with expired fireworks watching a beercan chicken slow roast on the grill while soaked Seattle style because it is Seattle
there are no burritos in this photo that Blu took about two months ago where $5 pitchers of Rainier flow and Bikesnob was so two weeks ago
one photo often leads to another and it’s the same as it ever was Thursday at the Storeroom twelve years ago or so
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reaching out, touching me, touching you
June 30, 2010
the thriftstore bike repair manual on page 53 warned me sternly in a 7th grade shop teacher way to “avoid creeping decay”
oh so subtle from day to day over time adding up until suddenly it seems my bike sucks
normal wear and tear just riding along the rise & fall of the messenger bike the decline of the foul-weather commuter
lean it against the wall at night reach for it the next day hoping that it’s good enough to go again
this Wednesday morning at 7:59am a Top-10 list of activities I do not enjoy includes bike maintenance
I’ve been trying to work a little RAGBRAI into my daily life since back before I even knew I was doing it. Now that summer has finally arrived in the 98101 thoughts once again turn to the actual event, the inimitable rolling parade of 10,000 cyclists moving West to East across the state of Iowa. Not Idaho. Not Ohio. Iowa.
RAGBRAI is one of the places on earth where it’s OK to stare at beautiful women on bikes in spandex. It’s not only socially acceptable, it’s unavoidable. And these aren’t some stodgy Cascade Bike Club members layered-up and standing around chatting in a dark damp hangar at Magnusson Park, these are cyclists dressed for the heat of Iowa summers from all over the world riding as slow as they want to go to the next town, bar or beer garden. To the next church basement rhubarb pie sale. To the next campground. To the next carwash shower.
RAGBRAI is the only place on earth where I feel relatively comfortable standing around in a beer garden wearing only Castelli shorts with no cutoff Dickies or Carhartts over them.
It’s still June but I already feel like I’m missing out, because I am. Out of Service. This will be the first July since 2005 that I will not be along for the ride. However there will be a strong group of pilderwassers there, you’ll see.
the clerical pool drain is clogged again typically located deep within the land of the receding hairline where hair grows long falling out hand in hand in compensation comb-overs cover-ups
criminal defense attorneys often dress like architects
set up to succeed or at least make a clean getaway
elevator latte slurpers teriyaki chicken smackers starbucks cookie crumblers surplus saliva suckers let’s not do lunch
the smell of 1601 5th so vanilla so mediocre so pedestrian
so disposable so often indisposed one witness remained undeposed
(1) A law enforcement officer may offer to transport a bicycle rider who appears to be under the influence of alcohol or any drug and who is walking or moving along or within the right-of-way of a public roadway, unless the bicycle rider is to be taken into protective custody under RCW 70.96A.120 The law enforcement officer offering to transport an intoxicated bicycle rider under this section shall:
(a) Transport the intoxicated bicycle rider to a safe place; or
(b) Release the intoxicated bicycle rider to a competent person.
(2) The law enforcement officer shall not provide the assistance offered if the bicycle rider refuses to accept it. No suit or action may be commenced or prosecuted against the law enforcement officer, law enforcement agency, the state of Washington, or any political subdivision of the state for any act resulting from the refusal of the bicycle rider to accept this assistance.
(3) The law enforcement officer may impound the bicycle operated by an intoxicated bicycle rider if the officer determines that impoundment is necessary to reduce a threat to public safety, and there are no reasonable alternatives to impoundment. The bicyclist will be given a written notice of when and where the impounded bicycle may be reclaimed. The bicycle may be reclaimed by the bicycle rider when the bicycle rider no longer appears to be intoxicated, or by an individual who can establish ownership of the bicycle. The bicycle must be returned without payment of a fee. If the bicycle is not reclaimed within thirty days, it will be subject to sale or disposal consistent with agency procedures. [2000 c 85 § 4.]
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bike rack is the new black
June 19, 2010
What’s ten bucks between friends? What’s ten bucks an hour?
Ask Orcas Island
What’s a living wage in Seattle? What’s the frequency Kenneth?
Ask me about my learned helplessness
Would you like soup, salad, fries or tots?
To break through you may need to Piss outside the box
Seattle has some clutch-popping hills even while driving in bare feet odds are on the other side of the street
full frontal nudity isn't what it used to be it’s not about efficiency it’s because I have to pee
the messenger bag appears to be empty too clean too new too trying too hard to look like not trying too hard
if I’m seeking a cheesecake-factory experience then I go to the Cheesecake Factory as imitation is the sincerest form of fakery
sincerely for real really I have a well developed horseshit extractor ask Vogel about the next chicken tractor
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downtube shifter boss
June 16, 2010
Insert downtube shifter bolt into non-drive side shin at full speed with force = mass x acceleration
Cherry Street at 7th Avenue is a hill steeper than most any in the Central Time Zone and to put it all in perspective I don’t ride for Metal Bikes
Are you OK?
One hour and twenty-two minutes ahead of the deadline but starting to shake the blood not yet dripping from the stigmata on each hand
I just need a stamp on the return copy and the messenger slip
embarrassment denial anger adrenaline pain
Dangling from the downtube shifter boss a clump of hair held together by an oh-so-thin piece of skin which moments ago was part of my shin
What we have here is a real choad checker a reminder that we’re all just one wet wood expansion joint away from you can have my job on a day like this One taxi driver away from are you talking to me One slick 3rd Avenue cheese grater away from fuck this One brief shining moment away from weighing the pros and cons and realizing that the pros have gone on a long winning streak but the cons sure can catch up quick
One way to take your mind off a slight headache is to smash your thumb with a hammer it helps to get priorities in order
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doppler effect
June 16, 2010
he said she said and I said “copy that” repeating as needed 40 hours per week
sometimes you want to go where nobody knows you work at Betts Patterson and you’re on a coffee break
Hey check out the ass on that guy he's got a really hot ass I'd like to see his ass naked with his hot naked ass Hey check out her hot ass that chick's got a hot ass she's a red hot ass chick I want to touch it Hey check out the ass on that old man that’s one hot old man ass look at his ass his ass his old man ass Hey check out that dog's ass wow that dog's ass is hot that dog's got a hot dog ass I want to squeeze that dog's hot dog ass like a ball but a hot ball a hot ass ball Hey check out the ass on that bird how's a bird get a hot ass like that that's one hot ass bird ass I want to put that bird's hot ass in my mouth and swish it around and around and around Hey check out the ass on that bike damn that bike's ass it h-o-t you ever see a bike with an ass that hot I want to put my hot ass on that bike's hot ass and make a double hot ass bike ass Hey check out that building it's got a really really really hot ass and the doorman and the ladies in the information booth and the guy in the elevator got themselves a butt load of hot ass I want to wrap my arms around the whole hot ass building and squeeze myself right through its hot ass and out the other side I want to get me a hot ass piece of all 86 floors of hot hot hot hot ass!
After an ass-kicking kick ass house warming party the house is sufficiently warm and the silk screening of eight one-of-a-kind onesies this afternoon means that pilderwasser world headquarters is now officially open for business
1 keg (15.5 US gallons) of IPA 5 gallons of Sangria assorted bottles of liquor, wine & beer 75 bratwurst 217 kabobs homemade mac n cheese 1 half gallon of potato salad 1 fat can of baked beans 1 bushel of tortilla chips 1 huge apple pie 1 giant chocolate mousse cake and all of it downed before the sun went down
Thanks for coming over Thanks for the gifts thanks
I know a few messengers. I know a few messengers that drink beer. I know a few messengers that could kill a keg of High Life in 20 minutes. And I know a few messengers and bartenders that’ll slow just a bit chomping down a keg of IPA… Saturday.
Did you get the memo?
B Backyard BBQ Beer Bratwurst Bicycles Bartenders Bike messengers Baristas Badass Bumblebees Blue Birthday Butterflies Bring Your Own Bourbon
when a messenger realizes he's in possession of some over paid lawyers acknowledgement prize for a job well done, he wonders about his own self worth. where are his shiny trophies, his tokens of praise, and accolades for putting his neck on the line day in and day out in the service of the highly payed, highly praised legal counsel sitting in there high rise offices, sipping cappuccinos discussing there upcoming vacations to aruba. as he sits in the sun drinking a beer eating teriyaki he realizes where is prize is. his gold star is in moments like this. moments of freedom in the work day, moments to reflect and relax, moments to enjoy time with friends and pontificate about the bullshit of the rat race playing out all around him. most of all he realizes that his true reward is getting payed to do something he loves, riding his bicycle.
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Saturday
June 7, 2010
the Bike Snob book tour hits the UW Bookstore June 19 at 2:00pm
Subscribed and sworn to me this first day of June 2010, a new beer tax went into effect in the State of Washington. As I am in and for the County of King residing in Seattle… the man tacks on an additional 50cent tax to each gallon of beer sold. Microbrews are exempt.
In the name of research and your best interests, I hit the streets this morning seeking out more information on price increases and what it all means to Joe Six-Pack, Joe Roadmaster and even Joe 18-pack of tallboys.
Keep in mind a US Gallon of beer is 128 ounces An 18-pack of tallboys is 288 ounces A standard 24-can case is 288 ounces Matt Case is a Flyers fan A pitcher of beer is 64 ounces An unpaid lunch break is 30 minutes A six-pack of tallboys is 96 ounces A roadmaster is 24 ounces
This additional 50cent per gallon tax will bring in millions of dollars to the recession strapped budget short fallen Washington State economy. However it does not translate directly in ounces per dollar to the guy on the street. The shop owners, the mom n pops, the local bodegas are using it as a reason an excuse a justification and a rationalization to raise the prices 10, 25 even 75 cents per six pack. I don’t blame them. They’re hurting as much as anyone. And I'm prepared to dig deeper into the schmutz covered change at the bottom of my bag to complete the typical roadmaster transaction... $2.20 $2.21 whatever it takes.
In this economy it’s the man sticking it to Joe Six-Pack. Even though Joe Mercedes Benz could take care of this with a just a few cars bought and sold the usness of we decided to nickel and dime it out of the guys hanging outside of Bensons. Taxes on candy, bottled water and cigarettes are also up and up and up today.
Wages continue to stagnate as the cost of living rises like oil in the waters of the Gulf of Mexico.
They’re afraid to say it but like Carl Sagan said it’s Billions and Billions and Billions
the uppermost NW corner lower 48 altered states 220 - 221 whatever it takes long neck bottles short attention spans return to room temperature gin in a sippy cup two handles to handle completely illegal readily available online oral fixation snorkel all the better to breathe you with running & riding with lollipops pierce the cheek with authority like Chuck at Lucky Devil yes it could be worse ask Blu of course it’s always the last place you look
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A few days off the bike helped me realize how much I enjoy cycling. Not just the act of riding a bike, but the independence, the efficiency and the utility of cycling in the city. On Bike-to-Work day I wasn’t working, I didn't ride a bike and I actually spent more time in a car than I ever do. As well as more time walking, bus riding, light rail taking, taxi hailing, plane flying, tank of gas buying and finally asking various family members to drive me around Westchester County like soccer moms.
Utility cycling is not asking for a ride.
Utility cycling is avoiding the waxy yellow buildup that builds up on the exterior of human bodies waiting for public transportation.
Utility cycling is cleaning out the plaque that accumulates after accommodating everybody’s schedule except your own.
prime the pump and grease the rails before the WestSide
Ladies and Gentlemen! Upcoming, on this auspicious Memorial Day Weekend, is the 10th and final edition of the West Side Invite!
If you have ever thought about coming to Portland in order to participate in booze and stripper fueled messenger mayhem you'd better figure out a way to drag your sorry asses to the PDX now because come June 1st it'll be all over.
There will be dice rolling, beer drinking, U-Lock horse shoeing, foot downing, track standing, thumb wrestling, short stopping! You'll be asked, nay!, expected to consume painful amounts of coffee and wash that down with a gazillion beers! (maybe not a whole gazillion). You'll Goldsprint until you puke, but there'll be plenty of beer to wash that taste out of your mouth so don't worry. You're going to participate in a main race that will tax both body and mind, and nary a Redbull in sight! You'll see all there is to see in our fair city! You'll meet up with friends old and new to celebrate this great weekend and all of the folk who made it great. Finally, you'll sit around on Monday drinking more beer and having a BBQ while a bunch of yahoos play in the oldest messenger style hardcourt polo tournament in the world! This may or may not be fun, come see which it is.
bike-to-work day gets more people on bikes and out of cars and that’s a good thing with the arrival of spring in Seattle the Dexter Avenue parade of commuters is in full bloom but it’s not the matching shoe cover & eye protection Cat 2 decked out spandex dudes that get my attention it’s the commuter chuffers bouncing biopacing undulating on under inflated tires expending more energy chafing their ass on a sheepskin saddle than they’re putting into the pedals inefficiently mashing a tiny gear while white knuckling purple anodized bar ends and bobbing their whole torso up and down back and forth like a dippy bird drinking because that’s what it’s all about
Add grade-school humor to taste and complete the limerick as you see fit. It’s Friday and it’s Skunk’s 14th birthday. In other news, you may have heard that pilderwasser world headquarters will be relocating soon, this is true. Therefore I will be spending less time here and more time schlepping boxes filled with books, kitchen utensils, golf clubs, punctured inner tubes and my binder clip collection. Soon after that will come travel around North America where I will be drinking beer with friends and family in other zip codes and time zones. During the next few weeks I will continue to work on my theory that it is indeed possible to overcome self-esteem issues by using more hair product. With the development and testing of a series of hypotheses through observation in “real” world places like Westport, Aberdeen, Mt. Kisco and New York City… my research continues. Upon my return to the comfort and asperger-like consistency of a daily routine I will share some of the research. And by that time I will be screening more t-shirts, onesies and top secret glow-in-the-dark boxer briefs and trying to sell them to you.
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Bike month. Bike to work day. Bike this. Bike that. I usually ride the bus into the office or get a ride with my wife if it‘s not raining and she‘s working at the Redmond campus. But I’m going to dust-off the Huffy and try to ride it in on a sunny day this month at least from where Lorainne drops me off, before she turns onto Mercer in the morning. My co-workers said they’ll try to ride in one day because the boss is some kind of bike nut and I heard he’s friends with the mayor who rides a bike too.
What if your target audience cannot afford the product you’re selling? What if the cost of doing business has outgrown the demographic Asking people to step up with a credit card To continue to live their lives at the level they’ve grown accustomed to Inflation continues while wages stagnate like bad cheese
Would you like to buy a t-shirt?
George if your one-of-a-kind glow-in-the-dark kickstand t-shirt never arrived in Carbondale, I will make you another one when pilderwasser world headquarters completes its relocation.
Steak Cut Frozen French Fried Potatoes Grade A Extra Long Fancy boxes recycled one more time around labeled taped stacked beneath Heinx 57 Tomato Ketchup restaurant package not for retail
Where’d they find this one where’s Brian? It is Saturday isn‘t it?
That’s a lot of hard living lumped into one dried out rhinoceros of a man
That’s a spunky haircut I bet she’s in a band or something
Guys like that act as if the world owes them something but somewhere along the way they stop trying and start complaining
Gals like that are always the center of attention like lead singers strutting the attitude and the tattoos I’ve seen it all before since her parents were in elementary school
I’ve been pouring beer for years I should write a book about people in bars people in general
I’ve been sitting at this bar for years years what does it take to get a beer around here?
He’s already giving me the look bloodshot eyes blend right into cherry red face
Didn’t she see me pull into the parking lot? if Brian was here I’d be a pint down by now
I’ve got six tickets up but he can’t see past that platypus nose “Can I get you a beer?”
faded faded anticipated a finite number of variables an infinite number of combinations if there’s a way to fuck it up the legal secretary will find it staple it clip it fold it forget it find a way to blame the messenger herein fail not at your peril take a number in the big waiting room where piped-in music drips slowly like a leaky faucet quietly killing me one smooth jazz favorite at a time waiting for the other drip to drop : . .
tuna salad snacks packed in celery stick canoes floating on a mayonnaise river through a hardboiled egg island in a sea of blue jello embedded marshmallows periodically exposed in the harsh lights of the banquet room well into the danger zone purple plastic taped over a folding table 500 sporks still in the box 750 styrofoam bowls stacked 300 surplus square napkins embossed “Bob & Lucinda” Coke and Diet Coke available for 75 cents 7 Comments | Add Comment | Permalink
Capitol Hill apartment for rent - $700
April 27, 2010
Available May 15, 2010... if not sooner. This is not fiction. This is not a joke. This will be on craigslist soon but I’m trying to keep it in the family first. For real. Really. I'm not the manager. I'm not the owner. I'm the soon to be former tenant.
In some zip codes it could be called a one-bedroom, but I'd call it a large studio. Huge windows recently replaced, high ceilings, wood floors, gas stove, gas heat, clawfoot tub. Classic old world charm. They don't build them like this anymore. In a solid brick building at 12th & Howell. Not that one. The other one, above the bike shop.
This second floor unit on the SE corner of the building, gets a lot of sunlight. Spitting distance from Cal Anderson park, restaurants, bars, tattoo shops, bike shops, coffee shops, thrift stores, book stores, art stores, locksmiths, sushi, Chungees, the Hugo House and much much more. Word..
There are 5 grocery stores within 5 minutes. Cars are not necessary here but zip cars are stationed nearby.
Call John the manager aka bike shop guy at 206-323-1631 for immediate viewing opportunities.
Sunday afternoon on the way to the bar I stopped to check out the new Blick art supply store on Broadway, which is a welcome addition to the neighborhood and a new source of silkscreen supplies as well as acid free archival quality paper and those cute little wood figures with articulated joints and a metal rod up their ass. And it’s all located even closer to pilderwasser world headquarters.
I locked up my trusty basket bike on Pine Street and went in the store for 4 minutes. When I came out I noticed right away someone had stolen the rain jacket I had stashed under the basket, which I sometimes do when I’ll be out for six or eight hours in unpredictable Seattle weather. I prefer to go bagless on weekends after schlepping a bag 40 hours per week. So before leaving home I grabbed a jacket and actually verbalized loud enough for my cat to hear, “I’ll grab one that I won’t be too worried about getting stolen” And about 12 minutes later it was stolen. This was a light wind-proof water-resistant jacket that I bought at a thrift store a few years ago. It literally had duct tape augmenting the right shoulder and reflective stripes stripping & ripping off from heavy use. This was not Rapha or Castelli or Assos this was a $5 jacket, but I actually wore it and could have used it yesterday at work when the rains came.
When I arrived at the bar Sunday, still angry about my jacket, I had big thoughts of writing ranting whining about stupid people stealing stupid shit off of other people’s bikes and karma coming around. Then I had a few beers and went to see the Seattle poetry grand slam championship and listened to people talking speaking presenting performing some intense personal political powerful things and it sort of made me put my missing jacket in perspective and try not to whine about weak little things like fluffy pink coffee drinks. The ride home that night was relatively warm and dry and I have other jackets I can take to work today.
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on the patio
April 26, 2010
your absence now a presence you're still here the sundial doesn’t lie horizontal verticals come full circle parallel lines appear to touch two minutes past noon nextel time church bells ring their same old worn out loop recording echoing off so many walls difficult to isolate the source
No Christmas bonus. No job security or 401k or pension plan or retirement benefits or annual cost of living pay increase. No timeshare in Whistler. No vacation home on the island. There is no vacation. There are no restrictions on the HOV lane, no membership at the WAC and no MBA. No framed diplomas on the wall next to the handshake photo of you with the senator from Ohio. It’s not about Brooks Brothers button-down or cashmere, a gold Rolex or a golden parachute. No stock options and no dry cleaning. No reigning-in casual Fridays that got too casual. There are no team-building exercises, annual fund raising banquets, strategy seminars or sales retreats. There is no profit sharing. There are no external incentives. There will not be a towncar waiting to take you to the airport. There is no layover in Dallas. There is no chance for a first-class upgrade. There will be no chest-puffing story telling at the class reunion. There will be no huge donation to the alma mater. There are no cubicle calendars. There is no non-dairy creamer no swizzle sticks no four dozen donuts in the break room. There is no recycled office building air. There will be no renegotiating the lease for more space. Being a messenger is not a career move or a résumé builder or a stepping stone. There is no 5-year plan.
I hate looking for parking for longer than it took to drive there then getting a parking ticket for not having the proper zone permit
I hate paying more for parking than it cost for dinner I hate $25 early bird specials and meters with 15 minute limits
I hate car salesmen and their rustproof undercoating new-car-smell charade
I hate the single male driver actuarial profile fender bender two estimate touchup paint rate hike insurance premium monthly payment
I hate the cold morning car won’t start stalls in intersection stress burning oil dead battery gas leak brake caliper dragging muffler
I hate leaving home two hours early to try to get to work on time
I hate sitting in traffic miles before the on-ramp then merging into I-5 when it isn’t even moving
I hate the Mercer mess from 5th Avenue to the freeway I hate hearing frequent traffic updates on KIRO news radio bottleneck backed up bumper to bumper gridlock
I hate $700 for parts and $2000 for labor
I hate frequent oil changes I hate blown fuses I hate car alarms on quiet streets at 3:00am I hate the tax on rental cars I hate zip car mini coopers and pt cruisers
I hate trying to hail a cab in the rain when I'm on the phone and it’s hard to hold my umbrella and my latte
I hate it when my umbrella gets inverted and my hair gets wet
I hate rushing to the bus stop then waiting 25 minutes for a crowded damp h1n1 bus that drops me off eight blocks away only to wait to transfer to another bus
I hate paying for a full tank of gas the free carwash that comes with it won’t wash away the hate
One day last week while sitting on a damp metal bench at the Plymouth Pillars dog park well into the twenty-seventh minute of my lunch break, I noticed that the often overcast sky of Seattle brings out the puce in the cityscape
Puce (often misspelled as "puse","peuse" or "peuce") is a color that is defined as ranging from reddish-brown to purplish-brown, with the latter being the more widely-accepted definition found in reputable sources. Puce is a shade of red. The Oxford English Dictionary (OED) dates the use of "puce" (in couleur puce) from 1787. The first recorded use of puce as a color name in French was in the 1300s. The word comes from French: puce literally means "flea", as the usual flea coloration is either dark reddish-brown or dark purplish-brown; specifically, it is the color of the belly of a flea
This kg271 Bucket bike made by Madsen Cycles was at 1420 today. With room for two toddlers strapped down in the bucket and another in the ultra-Euro kid holder with faring up front on the bars. This bike kicks ass and is much smarter than a smart car.
Available at Recycled Cycles or directly from Madsen
three times around in the revolving door then out into a great green Astroturf rumpus room a gold rotary phone rings hardwired string
holds down a shiny red balloon unmistakably the one from the movie kid voices speak French while German subtitles appear on the wall below
a picture of a painting of a cow jumping over the moon bolted down securely against gravity in the lobby of Denny’s Grand Slam breakfast dish runs away with the spoon
to one corner where three little Jerry bears rest breaking briefly between songs and dancing around correspondingly colorful musical plastic stacking chairs
on the turf two little kittens recently removed from mother suckling the thumbs of two little mittens grandmother knit strung together forever dangling
the little toy house hinged-roof opens to reveal a young mouse anthropomorphically typecast as if Stuart Little sounds like Michael J Fox
atop the coffee table a Hair Club for Men member’s clogged comb and brush triangulate with a not too hot not too cold just right bowl of mush
everywhere stars fill the air with good night noises no need to say goodnight socks walk away and it’s OK if nobody’s there at 7:00 except
that intimidating librarian looking old lady saying in a near whispering hush this is NPR’s Morning Edition I’m Bob Edwards
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are you my Bucky?
April 15, 2010
here's Milkshake, and he's not standing on Lenora Street, that's Roubaix
I’m in the lobby… …I see Starbucks but your name isn’t on the directory and the elevators won’t go to 41
overly friendly bike messenger:
Excuse me sir, I couldn't help but overhear your conversation and I believe you’re in the wrong building.
Your deposition is at 1420 5th, this is 1325 4th and Starbucks is not exactly a reliable landmark in this town. When you get to 1420, there are three separate Starbucks in the lobby but don’t let that confuse you. Just allow yourself some extra time to find Lane Powell.
Is there anything else I can help you with?
Have nice day sir, and good luck with your deposition.
Yesterday I sat at 1001 for nearly 12 minutes before I spotted a friendly bike messenger, or any bike messenger at all.
BANDANA-WEARING BIKE MESSENGER You, with the blue bandana and eyebrow rings. Me, the petite brunette cubicle slave. Why are you never delivering something to my building when I come outside anymore? Where: City Centre Building. You: man. Me: woman.
This was in the print version of the Stranger last week. I'm not just making it up but I do think it’s thinly veiled commentary on the decline of the bike messenger industry as well as the state of the local economy.
Way back when blue bandana (two-four) used to lock-up or at least pretend to lock-up 27 times a day at 1420, cubicle slave was probably outside smoking for four of those times. 24 was running rolls to and from Callison because Callison was working with engineers and general contractors and new construction job sites all over town because people were developing property and building things and buying things and selling things and renting things more back then and they needed more architects and support staff down the line and all the other Fleetfoot clients in that building were cranking out more work too and there were more messengers everywhere transporting more messages via bicycle.
Strung together in what appear to. Be complete sentences. Punctuated and capitalized in continuous continuity. Progressing linearly towards arbitrary goals. Paragraph structure holds that thought together no hand track stand turn the page.
Flash cards for Je-sús Krís-to Spanish vocabulary human anatomy pre-WWI European geography. Yes yes sweater vest yes. Thigh high stockings pulled to full potential. Attractively displayed in well lit windows arranged with bowls of grapes on tables too small to be practical perfectly ornamental.
Fireworks will work for food. Act accordingly as sign illuminates. Canned applause. Jars of applesauce. Shopping lists consistently consist of items bought before. Got sweet pickles get cat food meaty bits only. Pancake mix trail mix mish mash mixed tape mixed nuts mixed drinks.
Overblown binder bolts crunch carbon fiber. Check torque spec mail it in. Postmarked check floats overslept windblown grassy knoll. Catholic school girls rule. Maiden voyage to get away from here too got on an elevator to disappear. Step into the metal box elevate to #42. Astroturf roof deck well drink happy hour. Inside outdoors up high deep down. Needles pins poke prick stick thick wax.
does a lock like that provide enough security for a bike like that
trend cycles tend to come around
on an elevator with a guy who actually stinks more than I do and he’s not a messenger
socially acceptable but creepy dirty laundry
digging deep to pull from the bottom of the pile and reclassify it’s no longer “dirty” it’s now in transitional stage and could go either way
to be as sober as a judge
doesn’t pull much weight in King County and steer clear of State Patrol Officer as well as theAssessor
with bloodshot clarity I can see
mostly beer with scattered wine and liquors dehydration developing overnight early morning nausea turning to a general malaise and possible hangovers at higher elevations
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to stop and smell the moss
April 6, 2010
go out of the way to ride through Interlaken stop and smell the moss on a Monday take an interurban Garfield Street getaway see Westlake Avenue North in a whole new way sprawl out on your belly like a happy chubby beagle teach an old dog how to play backgammon eat deep fried potato skins and five orders of sushi drink red wine with raw fish if it feels like Tuesday turn off your phone because it’s happy hour somewhere
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and miles to go before I sleep
April 3, 2010
why don't you do what you do when you did what you did Easter Bunny
Pulling up the blinds in the morning to peek outside for a personal weather prediction, sort of a gut-feeling forecast because the weather man is just a poorly trained actor who could be selling salad shooters or garden weasels as well as he sells the 5-day forecast.
Filling the view framed by the kitchen window is a $1.2 million house for sale. It’s been for sale for a couple years and the sign has read “Price Reduced!” for at least a year. Now it’s only $995,000 and zoned for commercial use.
Taking into account the location, the price, the recent trends in business and real estate as well as the number of trips I’ve personally taken to title insurance companies and the number of excise tax affidavits I’ve recently filed in King County, when compared to the numbers of yesteryear, the fact that this house has not sold is no surprise.
What gets my attention is the guy who has been living on the front porch of this house for the last several months. Each night after dark he sets up camp and each morning he packs up. As I make coffee and dread going to work for another 9 hour shift in the rain with my lovely coworkers. As I beat myself up over unused potential. As I read in the sports section about a feel-good bracket buster or Ben Rothlisberger. This guy, my neighbor across the street, is stashing his stuff in the bushes and getting set for another day of walking around town with his umbrella and brief case.
I see my neighbor every morning and he probably sees me too, in my relatively warm and luxurious apartment making coffee. But when I see my neighbor walking downtown, near the library or around Belltown, I wonder if he recognizes me.
Instead of feel for the day’s weather, I get a pit of my stomach feel for the local economy from which I could extrapolate and comment extensively on the bigger picture. However, this morning, like Bartleby, I prefer not to.
cruising coasting 23mph downhill tears welling up rolling down Second Avenue she weighs the pros and cons of potential evasive maneuvers around Jane Doe’s sudden stop to unload John Doe in the Benaroya bike lane visions of a buckaroo endo over the bars then over the passenger door with both feet clipped out cleanly ditching the bike and bending the fork but saving the cup of coffee smiling and talking to herself inside and out loud all this and more in an early morning first run of the day haze the fog of work worked over her eyeballs hazy foggy fuzzy faded so much so so it’s hard to tell where the weather stops and the hangover starts where the great night ends and the rough morning begins where her genetic makeup is just a setup for her family history to kick in where those rose colored glasses keep falling off her head and getting run over by a bus
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shoes with cleats or pedals with clips
March 28, 2010
registration is open for both of these epic events:
Weekend warriors would perhaps view this bike as janky. But I know better. When form follows function fluidly even utility can be pretty, or at least attractive. There are a few people that can walk into a garage and walk out with a bike built-up from the scrap heap, Lee is one of those people. With just a few “new” bits he built this beauty. Fabricating and welding on the rear disk tabs and yoking together bike parts that normally would not speak to each other. Compatibility issues quashed.
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said it once before but it bears repeating
March 22, 2010
the image speaks for itself a language barrier bunny hopped cleanly standing alone it stands alone words get in the way interpretations do done did anyway either way one way or another by this with this under this as seen in exhibit A see illustration diagram #2.1 no need to explain when explanation ruins it seeking answers looking to the liaison blurring the line between socially acceptable and another open container citation the movie sucks but the book kicks ass you see what I mean I smell what you’re getting at the stink masked by perfume still stinks out damn spot motherfucking goddamn spot instead of walking downstairs to get a screwdriver to fix it in 5 seconds fumbling with it for 15 minutes with a butter knife that is still on the window sill crusty from the Christmas party the shoes the moustache the haircut undergraduate degrees matching accessories it’s all the same to me beat down on the downbeat signified by a diagonal line drawn through the square that is today on the calendar crossed off before 3:00pm the highlight the ritual the ceremony how was your day fine how was your day a sophisticated filing system has evolved refined over the years it’s called a pile and the things on top are easier to get to from the side you can see the stratigraphy as history is made cheese and crackers until the cheese is gone and then it’s just crackers
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rise over run
March 21, 2010
the smell of CoolGuy Park in the first day of Spring air exposed skin in cut-offs cut off
somewhere near the midpoint between Spring and Fall between Tacoma and Everett
a symphony of interstate sounds drowning out negative thoughts in an amphitheater with not a bad seat
on a hill so steep you can’t set your beer down but lay it down just so rise over run
so it can’t fall over but it could roll down like Milkshake full of beers somersaulting away that Saturday in May
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carrying coal to Newcastle
March 20, 2010
I wasn’t quite sure when it would be OK to go psychosomatic all the way until colorful advertising from the pharmaceutical company made clear to me the symptoms the signs the side effects then and only then was I able to develop a full-blown malady and of course seek medical attention immediately only to schedule an appointment two weeks from Tuesday when then I could recount for the MD exactly what was bothering me referring repeatedly to the ads in Us Weekly
the greasy residue builds up over time accumulating a bit more each day of the week on months into years until no one can remember what it used to look like no time-lapse photography or public TV pseudo science series documentary to recount the progression of its regression as each employee keeps current their food handlers permit in the long run it’s irrelevant so give them what they want to hear in an easily digestible USA Today way a Horatio Alger story working all the way up from poverty however history likes to turn away from the real Horatio Alger stories add to taste comments from the peanut gallery
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Sex, Lies and Velox rim tape
March 15, 2010
Today is the day to draw the line in the sand and all the other detritus that collects in bike lanes after ground-hogging it out day after day after day repeating the same things over and over and expecting different results it’s time it’s time to work a little Rumberg into the routine b e c a u s e it all pays the same
it’s like looking to the calendar for a reason or an excuse or permission to drink beer
as if you need a Hallmark Holiday to tell you when it’s OK to sit in a bar
Happy Saint Amateur’s Day
if you seek out green beer once a year you’re also likely to eat watered down Mexican food and drink Corona with a lime on the fifth day of May
you not you you
good luck with the green beer or whatever you read in the Stranger and be prepared to pay a cover
neo-retro velcro whack a mole on top of old smoky in on the ground floor reinventing the wheel since building a better mousetrap in 1991
esprit de corps is apparently outsourced and obviously at an all time low so go fuck yourself this year here this year hear we're here where
we point fingers to shift the blame pass the buck too attention to detail my ass hurts on the weekends from the rest of the days
three-man is a drinking game played with dice or a messenger company paying hourly what did you expect
working with just two men and a boy on lunch the Hawthorne effect the placebo effect or whatever it is I’ll take two of those for here and to go as well as some
Stockholm syndrome and you better bet the bar tape matches the saddle and the carpet matches the drapes the roadmaster is a cylinder too large to be enclosed
by carbon fiber this spring forward sprung out and over extended like a poor binder clip choice over and over really housed by 2:00 but pronounced slightly
different than housed by two real estate developers really I saw it on YouTube so it must be true tofu extra firm fresh spring roll hot and sour soup
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A couple of 60 degree days in February March like little tickling teasers under the chin before the punchline in the gut when weather comes back to where it should be like Kirk R Dungan said it’s a nice day for a white winter but an indian summer sounds better meanwhile the guy with the camera that costs more than you made in 2009 is taking pictures of club-foot pigeons as well as his wife pointing at the same allover the sidewalk dance the transition dance between vehicle and pedestrian hop the curb accordingly off or on what’s the problem officer with a mouth full of peanut butter a preemptive strike said Steve Younger box 350 Boston MA 02134 send it to Zoom jump take the bull by the horns take it to Two Union by 2:30 then do it again and again another ride on the burn-out cycle cruising through repetition town you’ve been down this road before more than once no need to read the signs you can feel it copy? copy the double-edged sword cuts both ways but today it’s the wrong way
painted by numbers into a corner square-pegged into a career for years
playing along playing the game inside the lines well before deadlines on time on schedule on the clock by the book check the calendar
seven years went under the bridge then seven more before Stella got her groove back up front
the son of derivative part two keeps them coming back
the unmistakable scent hotdog water wafting boiling over burnt crust grilled cheese bologna has a first name extra ketchup on the side
from the side of the road to the top of the toaster oven it looks so much bigger out of context
what seems to be the problem as plenty of symptoms show up multiple zippers pulled up stacked up on the Adam’s apple layered up cold like tangy guacamole recently expired in a grocery store deli dip between the refried beans and sour cream
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Hobson's Choice
March 6, 2010
Today is the day I made an investment in your future by purchasing a fresh batch of American Apparel T-shirts in an attempt to single-handedly revive the economy. The rest is up to you. So tell two friends to tell two friends and then send money because consumer confidence is thawing out this spring sprouting up through the topsoil like a poppy.
mauve lapis grass poppy baby-blue gold sangria. These are the colors of your new favorite shirts in the morning, when we rise. Switched-up for the return customers that want something different in their dresser and not just another black bike shirt.
You and you and you can always use a new shirt because things wear out and sometimes you get shitwhistled and destroy your favorite shirt by stretching it over the head of Chief Seattle in the name of Matt Case.
a journey of 1000 miles begins with it’s always the last place you look that carrot on a string that keeps you going day-old chicken salad sandwich hold the mayo hold the chicken between your knees hold it down keep it together or let it break down into five easy pieces expectations lowered back to sea level expectorations return to street level one loogie at a time
it’s all over but the hangover second-day socks expired turned inside out and not quite right like recycled bread sacks painted labels peeling flaking off into lunches packed for loved ones to enjoy six hours from now more or less twist ties tied getting by making do over due doo-doo clear as a three dollar bill standing by until I need to sit down Two Union near the artificial waterfall to the sound of falling water and the smell of bleach too easy to see the lack of efficiency redundancy I have to pee move to Monorail for more coffee table rusty hose clamp clamped around a shaky leg shake a leg working copies to C-203 ASAP fork lift and don’t forget to breathe
Where everything is a sunny breezy smooth and easy bike ride away from everything else
Where it’s OK to horse around while riding because there must be a pony in there somewhere
Where working means riding a bike and horsing around means riding a bike
Where a bag full of beer is much lighter and much more important than a bag full of law books
Where it doesn’t matter how you get there or when you get there or if you actually arrive at all
Where there are no copies to conform so relax and don’t worry about calling to confirm
Where the judges do not want 3-ring binders full of courtesy copies
Where drivetrains are silently efficiently effectively frictionless
Where spoke tension is uniform
Where nobody speaks the same language but everybody understands
Where the Sunday NY Times is delivered by cherubic children on bicycles and it doesn’t get stolen off your porch
Where you can wash your hair with dish soap and wash your dishes with hand soap
Where the gravitational pull of predictability is comforting like a magnetic attraction or a landmark used to get your bearings and not just the same old rote route rut routine that becomes overbearing
The past five days of what some would call a workweek collectively literally a slow leak in more ways than one a hard row to hoe figuratively let me count the ways today I do not want to ride or even touch a bike practically however we do not have a choice on this as we do not own or flex a zip car and specifically the last thing I want to do today is fix a flaccid flat tire after riding it out for 40.33 hours at Dog & Pony Legal Messengers every day fulltime and not just 3 or 4 or when I fucking feel like it and the second to last thing I want to do today on this misty Saturday is ride my bike to Magnuson Park to buy some blown-out chamois skinsuits or some gently-worn brake pads or some shark-finned chainrings or some long-reach dual pivots for my girlfriend’s bike for the day when she’s ready to ditch the 27” wheels and say hello to 700c. See. This is my February. 3 Comments | Add Comment | Permalink
onesie
February 26, 2010
This is my nephew Hunter Pilder sporting a pilderwasser onesie in the Eastern time zone. Who doesn't like kittens and kites and kids in black American Apparel onesies silkscreened in Seattle?
A rear derailleur shifting gears on a shifter bike. Skipping and jumping ADHD like a brand-new chain on a worn out cassette.
After this special presentation we will return you to our regularly scheduled program and join Friday already in progress. Please return to your cubicles with your biodegradable clamshells full of daily specials. If you don’t have a cubicle, go out there a win one for the Gipper
had a dream I was a messenger in Seattle sitting in the lobby of a 55-story office building 25 minutes and not one messenger went by but it was not a dream
straddling the line between One and Two Union
had a dream I was sleeping in the passenger seat of a parked car and still got “pulled-over” by a cop on parade duty who had nothing better to do
do what you do as if you didn’t have to
had a dream I was sleeping and woke up in a shower curtain factory the smell didn’t bother me but being hassled by Rick Steves made me speak Chinese
toeing the line between participant and observer
had a dream I was sleeping the clock was blinking 12:00 12:00 12:00 couldn’t tell if it was getting dark or light couldn’t tell if she was coming or going couldn’t tell if she was a he but I knew it was time to leave
two more than a few screws loose a blown fuse a circuit short wires crossed hither and thither here and now beans and toast trial and error and or a systematic process of elimination the jobs get done eventually but it’s obviously not about efficiency although it feels like it should be in this business of immediate urgent package delivery have you seen the Naj? rationalized and justified ambidextrously in the margins of utility blissfully ignorant denial unhealthy attachment to the ephemeral individual and disposable with liberty and justice for all unique to the mass-produced masses tenderfoot grape juice on ice to entice the fruit fly lying in wait to hibernate through the winter to sleep perchance to dream until conditions are right
my very educated mother just showed us every good boy does fine but what about the nine pizzas?
it’s like diaper rash on your eyelids it’s like playing cards with Cory’s brother’s kids
did they start out that way and end up like this? or did they start out this way then end up like that?
as well as other timeless questions regarding the human condition neither here nor there but somewhere between restriction and liberation
thither and thither and thither
we’ve isolated the source of the odor frozen fish sticks thaw in direct sunlight
tah tah tee-tee tah tee-tee tee-tee tah tah
while authorities await toxicology test results, an unnamed source within the department stated that alcohol could have been a contributing factor. Malcolm Gladwell just as well as any kid off the street could tell you that there were a number of other factors contributing. Duh
the handrail slathered in lemon Pledge leaves a little residue to take with you a souvenir so to speak
the handrail was installed for your safety, please keep one hand on your business and the other one free in the event that we encounter unexpected turbulence or a sudden loss in cabin pressure…if your eyes go fuzzy and your knees buckle then you may find yourself in the dark on the floor of the bathroom in your girlfriend’s apartment and you may ask yourself how did I get here?
postnasal drip hits harder on the elevator
join the club take a number vitamin D deficiency get in line you’ll be fine
ants in my pants and piss poor posture precipitated by years and years of use and abuse in and for by and by a one-shoulder messenger bag
no regrets in retrospect still wouldn’t want your job on a day like this
a brown bag shed from an expired roadmaster tumbleweeds down the alley and into the street on the stiff morning breeze that slices through layers like a wood handled pizza cutter calling into question wardrobe decisions made nine minutes ago with nine more hours to go
Keeping in mind the periodic approval by the Surgeon General of the United States that a daily moderate amount of beer, wine or spirits can lessen the risk of heart attack and other potentially stress-related maladies, I decided to run a personal experiment. Considering as well that even more of the population of Europe would have perished than did during the medieval glory days of the Bubonic Plague had there been no drink of pathogenic moderation (i.e. beer, as opposed to water) to see them through thirsty times (and remembering microcosmic triumphs of personal survival on my own travels to Latin America and Southeast Asia), I decided to limit my experiment to the consumption of beer. For one month I would ingest nothing but beer. Given that I’m a brewer and have many friends who are brewers in a beer-rich region, it would almost certainly be good beer (but it wouldn’t have to be); I would attempt to make nutritional decisions based on mealtime appropriateness related both to style and adjunct; and I would continue my exercise regimen of a mile swim as close to daily as I could manage (and speaking of managing, could I fill my poolside Nalgene with beer and get away with it?).
Naturally, and in the interest of risk reduction and objectivity I would have to set up a monitoring structure. I see my kids and a few trusted bartenders nearly daily; they’re used to seeing me with beer and wouldn’t be likely to judge me, and none of them is particularly shy about expressing their opinions. I would weigh myself daily and give myself a characteristically critical once-over from time to time throughout each day. Was there anyone else I should consider as an objective observer--my mom, or maybe a doctor? I didn’t think so.
The following excerpts from my diary--reasonably well-kept, considering—are taken indeterminately periodically and are selected on the strength of style more than substance. What am I, a scientist? I still need my friends to explain to me how electricity works.
Day 1—I Pop the Top on the Whole Thing 7:00 a.m.--In a celebratory mood, I begin the day (and my experiment) with a Belgian ale of lively effervescence and a sugary and satisfying mouthfeel—the Sugar Pops of beer, with which I have accompanied more than one 7:20 a.m. arrival to Amsterdam. I drop the kids at school and head in to work. I don’t even miss coffee. 10:30 a.m.—While the other guys in the brewery smoke cigarettes and discuss the Sonics, I feel somewhat superior—downright Continental--with a tall pilsner. What a beautiful beverage beer is! 1:00 p.m.—Back from the pool (forgot my Nalgene, and my goggles!), I head down to Big Time, where I am borrowing some malt from Bill, and enjoy a revitalizing porter—so glad I added rye to the recipe back when I worked here, and that they continue to use it. So glad in general. 4:30 p.m.—Following a late specialty malt delivery I find I am slumping a bit—all those 55 lb. sacks up the ladder. I answer with an ESB, well-balanced and hoppy. If I am to continue working this physically, I must resolve to drink heavier beers earlier. 7:00 p.m.—Home on the couch now, trying to make sense of the newspaper. Bed not far off. Had a couple of Loki lagers—sustaining but not heavy—before the maddening irrelevance of food smell drove me away. Jason and Lucas—two of my bartending control group—offer me thumbs up as I climb aboard my cab. I forget my house keys and have to catch another cab back. Thank God for cell phones.
Day 9—I’m Doing Just Fine, Thanks 8:30 a.m.—It’s been wheat beer mornings for me these past few days. I find my sleep has been somewhat thinner (but no less satisfying). I have dropped eight pounds in as many days. My hair looks great. 12:00 noon—Napped on some malt sacks mid-morning and missed the break, so a Valkyrie strong ale to round it all out. Why are all these people eating food? They don’t need it the way they think they do, not as much, not every day. A bit slow at the pool, flip turns a bit challenging. Still, I find myself a bit more loquacious with my lane mates, and the lifeguard. 5:30 p.m.—With the necessary imposition of moderation I end my day’s intake with a dry-hopped IPA (there are sure to be vitamins in all that green). Was it my imagination or was that cute bartender being extra-attentive earlier when I was tasting through the beers? Certain that her hand touched mine more than necessary. 9:00 p.m.—Had one last beer to truly send me off—oatmeal stout. Who can blame me?
Day 22—Bottoms Up! 9:00 a.m.—Following a couple of resolutions involving strong beer early (a sort of de-crescendo idea resulting in theoretical late-day clarity and serenity), and no driving, I start my day with a five-year-old Rochefort 10 while I wait for my ride. Or is it a 10-year-old Rochefort 5? I crack myself up. 10:30 a.m.—A Westmalle Tripel to keep me moving and bright. Still, everyone else seems to be buzzing past me at high speed, like that old Star Trek episode the name of which I might be able to remember if I hadn’t had any beer to drink. 12:00 noon—A theme is developing here, so I go ahead and have a Chimay red—the Trappist beer of moderation, bready and sustaining. 4:00 p.m.—Orval is so gorgeous in the afternoon, with a bit of rare Seattle sunlight shining through, not unlike that café down the road from the brewery. I find these things easier to imagine and recreate these days. 5:00 p.m.—The bartenders are talking among themselves, but I decide not to take it personally. They serve me a Westvleteren , at any rate. 7:00 p.m.—Well, what’s left? The Aachel holiday ale—pretty good for an upstart trappist, but I’ll remember its name once it’s been around for a couple of decades. Where will I be then? This thought sobers me, figuratively.
Day 30—What’s So Funny About Peace, Love and Understanding? 8:00 a.m.—Got my girlfriend to drop the kids off and take me back to the shoe repair to punch another hole in my belt. I am the Incredible Shrinking Man! She is the bartender of some entries previous! Everything to me seems an exclamation these days! She makes sure I take lemon in my morning wheat beer—Bavarian-style anti-scurvy remedy. 12:00 noon—A no-nonsense industrial lager while I ponder it all. Not sure what I come up with, but I am on the verge of accomplishing what many may have done before but no one has bothered to write down in non-fiction form. Much literature, of course, has been born thus. 5:00 p.m.—Napping has been my salvation. What better way to pass the time as I come down to it? I sip idly at whatever. 9:00 p.m.—I drift, I wander, I ponder. I feel beatific, shamanic. Sentences seem too complete; snatches of overheard barroom conversation more apt to my consciousness. Does my staff fear me?
Conclusions There’s little doubt that the experiment has been a success. I have experienced spans of lucidity and lost close to fifteen pounds. The kids and the bartenders at times seemed wary, but I tried always to maintain my perspective and not presume on anyone’s indulgence. Still, this is not something one not as seasoned as myself should probably attempt. Thank God for the astonishing range of styles we have available in this area and in this country—in the world for that matter. This experiment would not have been so interesting thirty years ago. It boggles the mind how beneficial adding a little food to the quotient might be. Are the policymakers listening?
Read more of Cantwell’s articles here Drink more of Cantwell’s beers there
how much iceberg lettuce does it take to counteract one pound of bacon? just add tomatoes and toast
how many Attaboys does it take to makeup for one Ah Shit? call WLM and ask for a conversion chart
nursing assistants and Don Johnson share wardrobe decisions in hospitals and assisted living facilities in Miami Vice reruns and retirement communities why else would anyone wear white pants
dogs don’t know the brand name on their tennis balls and does it really matter what a Nittany Lion is
out of sight sort of out of mind back beyond the bleach bucket outside where the 10-tin brims with butts stewed in brown rainwater runoff where broken chairs retire and mops go to die where lost souls stray looking for the men’s room where no truer truths are told the reality is it’s all there it’s just not for you to see
conspiracy cover-up muff job ranch dressing in a dixie cup soap dispensers empty since August appearances only appear to be superfluous brushstrokes up & down play on the X axis side-to-side slop along the Y split the difference
false alarm lucky charm that’s my weak arm nondescript white Econoline cheapass screw-top red wine faded fermented misdirected re-elected
wiener dog mustard retractable leash 668 the neighbor of the beast that address is across the street
Looking back the morning after it seems I was out late. But it only felt that way because I got a solid 8 hours of drinking in before 8pm. I didn’t race but I did ride to the bar to sit and look out the window and note that Melrose Avenue runs into some poor routing and all roads lead to Cool Guy Park. After notarizing manifests for 2.5 hours between pints of IPA I was able to let gravity roll my bike down to Mobius for the ceremonious festivities after the race. There are now a few Dank Bags Jack Sikma Hella T-shirts rolling around town, sure to be conversation starters when spotted at the mall in Bellevue or at QFC on Mercer Island. I can’t give you race details or play by play or points scored or stuff like that. But I know Steve Young was involved in the results as well as some really bad porn and plenty of xtreme cheese flavored corn dogs… dip’em munch’em everybody loves’em.
Pike beats Pine the bars are better the hill is easier to climb empty calories add up to nothing to get me up that hill after work to race chuffers across Boren calling on adrenaline an amalgamation years and years of elevator conversation Do me a favor… Listen here my friend… and other precursors to horseshit stupid sounds stupid the Oklahoma way not in an OK way machined to tolerances ± .01mm nothing you couldn’t fix with vice grips or a swift kick in the ass stovetop stuffing I’m staying no reason to go halfass Shaq from the line 50% of the time taking ownership and responsibility using a large law firm as a transfer lobby between a small firm and a midmedium stainless steel wicks the heat away economically a self-inflicted haircut the night before picture day immortalized in the yearbook remember see look 1977 F150 and plenty of rope rounding up rogue shopping carts to return them to their proper pasture playing the percentages Pike beats Pine
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I’ll find you near the intersection where expectations meet reality, but we’ll both need to wait in line for a while. Together. Separately. For complete instructions and rules of entry send SASE to PO Box 123.
Do you feel that? That’s not a subwoofer. That is 442 cubic inches of displacement. Muscle. Original flavor long-cut between the cheek n gum. Liquid smoke in the eye a poke. As if meeting in the loading dock makes sense. By design.
If and only if. If then. If only. Migratory six-pack rings wrapped around your finger. An environmental impact statement stated in terms like simplicity, utility and out-of-pocket. Out on a limb like the kitten in the poster on the ceiling at the dentist. You’re huffing so much gas, the kitten begins to speak Spanish and you understand completely.
Paperback reading walker. Walker reading paperback. I’m watching where you’re going, so you don’t have to. Warm shampoo. Cold Turkey. Fingerprints on the glass, compounded daily. Toothpaste splatter pattern on the mirror in normal distribution with standard deviation and occasional outliers. Fat-free vegan organic truck stop. Barstool etiquette. Free refills.
Cauliflower party platter. Roundhouse. Circle to the left counterclockwise here as well as in the southern hemisphere. Losing steam. Solar powered artificial color. 67% majority. Authority. Ponytail pulled back so tight your eyes go funny. Purple mountain majesty. I’m invisible for my own safety. Please ignore me. I dress like this as not to be confused with an attorney. Conversation may be recorded for quality assurance purposes.
They had me going. The entire package, the experience, the atmosphere, the ambiance, the greeting, the presentation, the valet, the hostess, the sommelier, the support staff, the music. They had me going there…but the smell. The butt smell. Who smells like doodie?
Textured vegetable protein American cheese product. Dust-free laboratory. Fingerless glove snot rocket. Tyvek jacket crinkling from Seattle to Portland in one day. That which we call a rose is a Mercury Bobcat is a Ford Pinto is a rose is a rose is a rose.
Terracotta façade undulating in the low angle winter sunlight. Getting all oboe. Oboe all up in your face. Peter and the wolf. Jack and the beanstalk. Hootie and the blowfish. Puke on the pillowcase spring break. Direct pressure eye contact. Plug n play they we all look the same. Are you my Bucky?
She rides around in the drops all day making us all look bad. We’re not in Marymoor anymore. We made the waiting list for the best preschool in Madrona. We got cold feet. Cold fingers. All ears. Captain Right Back Atcha coming out of retirement because he mixes it with love and makes the hurtin feel good.
So firm you could set your beer on them.
She’s a brick house elaborating on an elaborate set of rules. Getting upset when no one else plays along because no one else knows or cares about the rules or the game or the fact that she is still keeping score on that scoreboard that no one else can see. Accurate and precise yet cold and indifferent. Overcooked and cranked up to Asperger’s level. Horizontal stripes stack up like binders full of courtesy copies to C-203.
Quilted patchwork piecemeal. 650 front wheel. Campagnolo cranks BMX anodized fade to pink. Red turtleneck sweater February candy office party glazed high fructose corn syrup distraction delivered floral arrangement calling in sickly sweet.
asshole visible up in the air on the table cat show cat what were you thinking imagine that
socially acceptable sense of entitlement as learned in school the way it is it just is it’s what you do
what does a duck say? what does a cow do? what does a green light go?
disposable gloves disposed of on the spot on the sidewalk for me or someone someone else to take care of
clueless conscientious tooth flosser and your toothpick single-serving fucking floss things discarded in the 4th Ave revolving door at King
dumping an old dryer in the cul-de-sac an exercise bike left at the trailhead shooting up refrigerators in the gravel pit
twin toaster architecture zip tie justice it’s worse when you lie about it like Stupor Bowl stories of the one that got away
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A stereotypical caricature of an exaggeration. Fat, bald and 57 driving a red convertible. Top down. Heater cranked. Adult contemporary blaring. Comb-over fluttering in the wind. Waiting at the light. Fresh silver hoop in the left ear. Bluetooth in the right.
take the training wheels off pull the trigger pushback
A real cliché packing contest. How many can this guy put in one conversation? Is this a joke? Is this a FedEx commercial? Is this Dexter Avenue? Is this really happening? 3 Comments | Add Comment | Permalink
overflowing with gourmet chocolate-dipped apple wedges, pineapple daisies, strawberries, grapes, cantaloupe and honeydew.
February 3, 2010
patterns emerge from the randomness as edible fruit arrangements and counterfeit lottery tickets are hand-delivered via messenger to the last known mailing address of each and every person on earth
gas-powered lazy susan spinning spinning out of control fast far past its intended use condiments cannot be contained at these speeds salt n pepper electrons launched well beyond typical breakfast nook orbits
Duchamp knew the score mood descending staircase elevator out of service take the caffeine up to level two like déjà vu but less interesting more like 1111 3rd Avenue blah blah blasé beige showing the universal sign for boring traffic patterns trod into carpet bobsled track feedback loop groundhog day well worn habit trails grease the rails a dab of olive oil on a Q-tip should do the trick change your panties take it down change octaves break it up break out breakfast steel cut oats strawberries and cream 100% wool made in Italy dry clean only I liked it so much I bought the company front foot fakey like Fever’s lock used to be funky like your grandpa’s drawers those zebra-print pants make you look trashy that hound’s-tooth coat makes you look stodgy every photo brings to mind another on file getting all Getty stock images cookie cutter cut n paste seen one seen them all all 3.6 billion units sold in North America we haven’t raised the price in 12 years the portions just got smaller and smaller when every sentence seems to be a variation on another written long ago recycled recombinant reworked referential homage nothing new under the sun on a cloudy day creativity could be access to a healthy library that’s what she said or not if you haven’t shifted gears for six months or more consider the concept single-speededly
In this economic environment it’s a matter of what the market will bear or bare. As in shake down cook down distill slow cook boil over then simmer down. Like that sticky residue on the rice cooker. Continued cutbacks and empty storefronts. Seattle is bit behind the curve or on some other curve altogether. A warped curve that looks different around the 48th parallel and west of Cascades. Whatever that means…take the messenger industry for example. More specifically take a little look at the Seattle messenger industry as a mini microcosm of microeconomic indicators from which to extrapolate some bullshit predictions about the entire world economy. It’ll make as much sense as anything you’ve been hearing from the experts in DC on CNN or NPR. I got your consumer confidence right here.
In the salad days heyday Seattle was rolling over 206 messengers strong. When a bike could still beat a fax machine and travel agents printed paper plane tickets on dot-matrix printers. When dot-com venture capital was littering the streets sidewalks and elevator banks. When investors thought Kozmo.com had a viable business plan. When vacancy rates were under 5%.
Today, we’re down to about 35 bike messengers in the Emerald City. The behemoth ABC is relatively small, with only 11 riders. Jimmy Johns has surpassed them as the biggest company in town (I didn‘t add their riders to the grand total). Fleetfoot is vaporizing. Stealth is hourly. And at Attention-to-Detail Legal, I now have only 1.5 coworkers on the street.
Bike messenger companies won’t go away completely but they’ll look different. Just like stock brokers and bankers look a little different in 2010. Developers investors construction companies architects engineers and lawyers… look different. Messengers start their own messenger companies and turn into owners who then lose their street cred get fat and go out of business. Corrections in the market by the market. Outliers reeled back in or just left out to dry up. Bullshit bubbles popped and pooped. Gravy trains derailed. Gravy dogs go to law school get married have kids graduate school medical school nursing school law firm mailrooms film school rock star organic farm Microsoft construction FedEx PDX bookstore coffee shop river guide ski patrol dishwasher writer. Moving on growing up dropping out selling out.
it seemed like a good idea at the time we knew it going in the exit strategy built in that’s how I roll touch n go she watched channel zero side effects effectively affected my affect getting scolded by the librarian again butter sour cream cheddar cheese bacon jumbo baked potato somewhere under there Barcelona chairs high ceiling natural light standing by sitting down inertia weighed-in with its 2 cents what who where why when the idea of messenger the image the concept the theory the lifestyle the bike the bag the wardrobe however like 25 always said “they can never get the smell right” plowed right back into the local economy in and out of context sequence syntax the stinger embedded the venom sac intact do not pinch remove with a scraping motion accepting debit or credit cards from any major bank they don’t make ‘em like they used to acid-free archival quality ask Noam Chomsky intended audience target focus surgical precision blanket bombing napalm shower massage adjustable head burning curling iron aroma topped off with some serious hairspray diabetic diuretic dietetic dialectic Dianetics John Travolta what have you done for me lately catchy little bouncy acronyms disguise government contracts guaranteed through 2012 in conclusion finally in summary Ye Olde Curiosity killed the cat
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quintessential pickle
January 22, 2010
I know a shortcut follow me
jump around jump around
hanging around sticking lingering like the Sanford & Son theme song
my Phrenologist told me to drink red wine a glass or two is good she says
On the back side the odd side The other side the east side I’ll meet you there where there’re Thicker thins and deeper shallows Faster slows and higher lows On the sunny side of the street
If you’re seeking a cohesive narrative A logical linear progression With a smooth story line that unfolds in Complete sentences and paragraph structure You’ve come to the wrong place So What you want to do is walk up to 13th & Pine and wait for a bus Tell the driver you need to Get down in Fraggle Rock Or You can connect the dots Spackle the holes Fill in the gaps With dumptruck loads of inference Twigs and scraps of yarn-infused guesswork
Force-fit into the framework of reference You’ve constructed over time in your mind With or without conscious effort It’s there and it’s not going anywhere
What? Excuse me? What was that? Take it to the Hearing Examiner Present it to the Board of Equalization Or just keep it out of my face
Tip your Jimmy John accordingly Although he makes more money than me He’s got your whole lunch in his hands
Brand new tennis balls skewered On the legs of your walker Scuffing down the sidewalk Not so smoothly friction resistance We’re not in linoleum anymore
I’d buy that for a dollar $1.10 with tax
Tax Man Trims Tuesday through Saturday 11-7 Walk-ins welcome But don’t worry He’ll catch up to you eventually 20% lopped straight off the top Additional penalties on the side high & tight
In the beginning, intimidated by the pressure of unused potential the sight of so much ripe white space untainted the calendar the schedule the clockwork of productive production the time is now now is the time
In the end, intimidated by the pressure to live up to expectations the need to meet or beat what came before you’re next in line in a succession of successes that successfully succeeded you’re only as good as your last kick
In the middle, oblivious somewhere happy medium chugging along plugging away shrugging at play unburdened by back then it was better undistorted by nostalgia un intimidated by by then it should improve free from futuristic prediction
I had to walk five miles to school uphill in the snow it’s so twenty thirty years ago there they go with the kids these days did you ever sit at the big kid table propped up on two phonebooks have you ever seen a phonebook?
take a moment to contemplate not so long ago cordless phones the size of Montana taken out to the mailbox the neighbors porch the backyard feet soaking in the kiddy pool beep warning beep return to docking station your batteries are low
the look and feel of hand-tooled leather the due date rubber stamped library book back before barcodes the smell of a musty thesaurus the binding crackle of a 19-pound dictionary you won’t find that on the google
free wireless with any purchase four-top at the coffee shop four people four laptops no conversation no interaction people having a common experience sitting near each other separately
Navel gazing. On and on. Off and on. Ramble on. And so on. Moving on through the day with some help, from Johnnie Walker Red. Subscribed and sworn to me this 17th day of January. Spicy, oaky, peaty, salty. Sippy from a sippy cup. She knows that I know that her name isn’t really Smokey. Refrain from smoking within 25 feet of the entrance. Use the bike rack. Meet the new black. It’s the same as the old black. Smell the glove twelve years later. Nineteen years ago. Down by one. Eight seconds left. Wide right. Game over. Loser goes home. I’m going to Disney Land.
it’s not about being left-handed it’s about being right or wrong enlarged to show texture upper respiratory traffic congestion can’t you smell that smell butyric acid and the fine line between puke and parmesan cheese between rancid butter and body odor water beaded necklace strung out umbrella cropped view of the city you can’t see where you’re going you should stay in your hotel you wouldn’t want your hair to get wet roached four days a week can’t get past the spam filter lard laid on thick slathered to a lather Fiesta Fiesta pinto black refried mild medium hot it’s all the same only the names change watered down middle America blasé bland food court mall milquetoast airport corporate fare not to scare them away with authentic Reagan years Miami Vice pink shag toilet seat cover high heels hanging from the telephone pole minor details du jour take the express lane take the inflatable doll from the trunk take the passenger ferry take five take two of these take a number mark your calendar another day closer to retirement involuntary response drool permissive submission submissive permission the shipping container is better than the shipment shake shake shake cracker jack prize glows in the dark macaroni grows in the blue boxes with bright orange cheese powder envelopes twos too much eight is enough elevator up stairs down restrooms are for customers only please please please use the revolving door
two new synapses connect opening a window of awareness unlocking the mystery something seen everyday for years but never really seen until now what now now what what’s what stay on the scene gross net profit loss tax deductible like 801 2nd for Christ’s sake really “have a good day” for Jesus the backup plan was put in place before the toilet paper roll ran out shit forklift in forklift out loading and unloading loads of it Westlake Center cheapskate cheese nickel and dime next day economy you’re upfront with your saccharine smile in your artificial sugar and fake spice world everything is nice nice that’s nice do you want the messenger to be nice or do you want the messenger to do it right years ago you learned to shift the blame pointing fingers when you fucked up years later I’m still here mopping up equilateral isosceles scalene get to the point denial running away from commitment it’s a big commitment avoidance mechanism repairman he makes house calls everywhere all the time 4 Comments | Add Comment | Permalink
DANK
January 13, 2010
Those guys down at DANK bags are online. Please make a note of it. Tell two friends. Link to it. Tweet it. Blog about it. Facebook it up. Get in the drops. Go there and buy things. 1 Comment | Add Comment | Permalink
peanut butter Hobart overspray asparagus
January 13, 2010
all you can eat buffet you just have to pay by the pound buy the pound
bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow there'll be sun
January 12, 2010
Talking and talking hands-free holding her umbrella and her macchiato just so popping the power assist door button with her elbow as if she’s done all this before and she’ll do it all again.
The Court of Appeals overturned the lower court’s decision as a spatula flips a grilled cheese sandwich at just the right moment golden browning both sides properly evenly the tomato soup is already in the bowl.
Combining recombinant combinations. Strung together in a 5-day forecast.
You do delivery? No, only pickup. Take it where it goes.
I sing the toothbrush electric. Kurt Warner went to the University of Northern Iowa.
Prelude to a preview to a prolog to a peek. The sun will come out tomorrow, or not.
Insole to a dream. My shoes by any other name would smell as sweet.
Visualizing popcorn covered in asiago. Does nothing to curb the gag reflex.
Conversation inevitably turns to the weather. How do you answer elevator questions about the rain and maintain your composure when the water is literally dripping off your nose? I still wouldn’t want your job on a day like this. How do you talk about the rain after the fact without whining and complaining??? How do you hangout in wet socks for nine hours and talk about happy happy joy joy wonderful things? Maybe you don’t.
Supersaturation is a chemistry term describing the unusual circumstances that occur to allow an extra high amount of a dissolved material to be in solution. However I speak of the supersaturation that occurs when you’re out on a bike and you cannot possibly get any more wet. Wet wetter wettest. Soaked. Supersaturated. When this state is achieved you start to laugh maniacally and repeat nonsense phrases out loud. Extra profanity is added to everything. There is, however, a Zen-like state of relaxation that comes with the realization that you can’t absorb anymore water. Calculating the number of hours left in the work day doesn’t help. Time slows down. Slows to a crawl, raindrops seem to float in the air as if they are waiting for you, waiting for you to ride closer so they can each take their turn to hit you in the eye. So they can each take their turn to land on you and not on the street.
Fingers and toes wrinkled up and pruned, not dried plum, but pruned up like too much time in the bathtub. Two trench foot tacos to go. Walking on. Walking around in bread sacks full of grey water rubber banded to your ankles. Try it some day, just for nine hours. Conditions cannot be duplicated only simulated. Off camber slicker handi ramp squirrelly squishy bubbly sock juice. Smells of wet wool retro grouch gloves. Outfitted in the finest Capitol Hill thrift store gear sprinkled with REI. Dickies dry quick if the rain lets up. Swamp ass impressions left on fine office furniture everywhere. Chamois damp wetness revisited. 1 Comment | Add Comment | Permalink
[proposed] order
January 11, 2010
How many Dorsey Whitneys does it take to call in a pickup?
How many ABCs does it take to pick up a C-203?
How many proposed orders does it take to screw in a light bulb?
How many monthly fees charged to little customers like me does it take to pay the annual bonus for one Bank of America executive?
The writing is on the wall. Sometimes it’s on the sidewalk. Take a moment to locate the exit nearest you. Keep in mind it may be behind you. Maybe you passed it or maybe it’s coming up. On your left through the tunnel around the corner over the hill. Interpolate Extrapolate Regurgitate. Manipulate. Triangulate. Locate.
a beeline is not that straight and as-the-crow-flies is a bit idealistic been bobbing allover the board hummingbird style for a while taking tempting testing tasting a sample a sip a smidge a sprinkle just a dash a dollop a doohickey
it’s not about efficiency
1040 EZ drunken disorderly Sebastian Janikowski
Dexter Avenue twinkie factory burnt sugar breeze
run it by the Bellevue Office, she said meet me at the library say it again like you mean it
one more time with feeling
three buttons unbuttoned slather your chest with Rogaine so you can wear more gold chains
What would Monorail Kevin do?
this vampire can see himself in the mirror except the motion sensors on paper towel dispensers don’t recognize him so he dries his hands on his pants
I am a six-speed freewheel forced onto a freehub body with a cheater bar chain whip by a bloody knuckle vice grip bike mechanic.
You are a one inch threadless Chris King headset mushroomed into an ovalized Motobecane head tube by a self-taught bigger is better brute force bike mechanic.
We wish we were simple elegant solutions to mechanical problems.
Instead we’re faced with gobs of JB Weld protruding from a hose-clamped duct-taped tube interface.
Rounded out like a square taper.
When you know the notes to sing, you can sing most anything.
Love is fixing the flat on your girlfriend’s bike.
Lust is buying your girlfriend an NJS saddle that matches her wheels but she doesn’t want it because it hurts like hell and in the end you’re the one getting all buttsore.
Pomegranate juice makes my eyeballs hurt.
Tiger focus.
The gargoyle on the mantel is speaking in tongues citing specific landlord-tenant laws, watching me, pretending not to be.
The deer in the garden are munching on fresh bunches of coincidences.
Three out of four attorneys do not wash their hands after using the restrooms in the courthouse.
Midmorning sunlight reflects off the dumpster recently repainted occupational orange and brimming with deceivingly heavy bags of human hair swept up each day from the floors of the Institute of Cosmetology.
Skipping kidney stones on the North Fork of the Urethra River.
Blotchy skin smattered with red splotches flattered by fluorescent lighting in a drop ceiling, acoustic flame-retardant tiles aligned accordingly, boring.
Six-month performance review stewing 24 months late and counting intestinal turbulence disturbance.
Excerpt from Motion to Strike Testimony of Chad Johnson:
…in minute 38 of the deposition (see line 221 in the verbatim transcript attached as exhibit B) Charles Schlockstein (attorney for the plaintiff) asks Chad Johnson, CFO of Chad Johnson Concepts, to explain the 2003 stock offering.
Johnson’s response, beginning on line 224, is completely inaudible because of the loud background noises that cover it up.
What is clearly audible on the recording of the deposition is the double chirping incoming call of a Nextel direct connect phone at a high volume and the single chirp outgoing response of same said phone shortly thereafter, followed by the profanity laced tirade unleashed by the person in possession of the phone, a bike messenger who was passing by the Whispering Winds conference room at the time of the Johnson deposition. The interruption lasted nearly one quarter of one minute.
Candy Cooper, legal assistant to Schlockstein, was later able to speak with building security and check the sign-in log for contractors and delivery personnel and narrow it down to a messenger delivering to floor 42 on that day and time. The messenger upon signing-in identified himself as Merckx, Ed. Stating he worked for a company called “Your Mom”. Delivery personnel are required to produce valid photo ID at the time of sign-in which theoretically would make it easier to resolve issues like this one. However, after repeated phone calls to every delivery company listed in Western Washington as well as Portland, Oregon and Vancouver Canada, Cooper has not been able to locate Merckx. In addition, extensive internet searches for companies dba Your Mom has yielded no results. The possibility that Merckx is an independent contractor does exist, therefore Cooper spent four days researching UBI numbers with the State Department of Revenue and the City of Seattle’s B&O office, attempting to cross reference Your Mom with Ed Merckx. She was unsuccessful. Remote searches in Oregon are difficult and access to Canadian business records is not granted to US parties over the phone…
This is a pile of legal horseshit over a simple everyday occurrence. All they had to do was ask Mr. Johnson to repeat his answer after the messenger walked by. The messenger was just doing his job. Perhaps he was a little pissed off, soaking wet, hungry, tired and stressed-out and I bet he had to waste 7 minutes with a slow security guard signing-in in the loading dock. Of course a few shits and fucks are going to slip out of his mouth in the heat of battle. We’re not in Kansas anymore. Perhaps later on they'll mention that Merckx smelled like cigar smoke, wet socks and beer.
Even if they found this Ed Merckx, what would they do? Say to him in a stern voice, “Don’t do that again”
Schlockstein is losing his case and Johnson’s testimony clearly favors the defense so he is grasping for anything to stall and look for another chance and of course along the way, rack-up amazing amounts of bullshit billable hours.
One-One-One Zero. Queen Anne High School condominium conversion sunrise on a new decade. Toe overlap. Front fender lower leg splatter pattern proprietary mixture of anodized aluminum, brake pad, road grime and rain. Bill Cosby sweater redacted. All you can eat butterball buffet reenacted. All in one. Basket. Fish head soup served with sourdough roll, to go, twice as far with a chocolate bar. Double short Americano. The word got out. Cat got your tongue. What are you eating under there? With a ten foot pole. If it aint broke don’t break it. The observation of national holidays unobserved. The next day spent recouping. Chairs inverted on tables. All the better to mop you with. Lemon scented glass cleaner. Stream or Spray. Ammonia. Don’t make eye contact. Bainbridge Island golf club function on the 8th fairway. What the client wanted was a country mile away from what they asked for. That’s no problem, we’ll be there right away. Do it right the third time. If A then B… coincidence proximity false causality superstition learned helplessness hypochondriac. Placebos should do the trick for a psychosomatic. Red Beers in morning, hangover warning. Red Beers at night, not so much. 1 Comment | Add Comment | Permalink