What I Talk About When I Talk About Biking

I'm just about to finish Murakami's What I Talk About When I Talk About Running.  It's a book about running, yes, but also writing and self-discipline.  He always returns to the point that there are days when you don't feel like doing something but you have to do it because it must become routine or things (muscles, thoughts, etc.) will fall apart if you become lazy with something that ends up making you feel so good after you do it.

Since July 24, I have ridden 874 miles, without counting my daily commute to work or random errands to and from places.  The following passage comes from the first chapter and is one that has really resonated with me.  In the original text Murakami is writing about long-distance running.  I changed any word mentioning run or running with bike or biking and then it became a pretty amazing passage to describe thoughts and feelings that occur while riding for distance:

I'm often asked what I think about as I bike.  Usually the people who ask this have never biked long distances themselves.  I always ponder the question.  What exactly do I think about when I'm biking?  I don't have a clue.

On cold days I think a little about how cold it is.  And about the heat on hot days.  When I'm sad I think a little about sadness.  When I'm happy I think a little about happiness.  As I mentioned before, random memories come to me too......But really as I bike, I don't think much of anything worth mentioning.

I just bike.  I bike in a void.  Or maybe I should put it the other way; I bike in order to acquire a void.  But as you might expect, an occasional thought will slip into this void.  People's minds can't be a complete blank.  Human beings' emotions are not strong or consistent enough to maintain a vacuum.  What I mean is, the kinds of thoughts and ideas that invade my emotions as I bike remain subordinate to that void.  Lacking content, they are just random thoughts that gather around that central void.

The thoughts that occur to me while I'm biking are like clouds in the sky.  Clouds of all different sizes.  They come and they go, while the sky remains the same sky as always.  The clouds are mere guests in the sky that pass away and vanish, leaving behind the sky.  The sky both exists and doesn't exist.  It has substance and at the same time doesn't.  And we merely accept that vast expanse and and drink it in.  

Heavy Rotation 10-11-13

Man, way out of sync.  There is nothing new here this week, but there is one old gem I love more than most these days

Copenhagen-Galaxie 500

This is not even a Galaxie 500 album proper, yet it contains every G500 song I could think of at this point of time in my life.  It is a perfect now record.  It is a record for listening to on a Friday, when you feel dead on the inside, when you are asking yourself, why did I give a shit about anyone?  And, then it answers those questions.  It answers them as indirectly as anyone could ever possibly answer those shitty questions.  Yet, the album is also a live recording.  The Wareham solos, when he was young, make you feel solidity in a void of whirls and are priceless.  There are some tracks off their last LP, which sound great live.  Yet, it is the solid bookending of the set that leaves you in awe.  To begin with "Decomposing Trees" and end with a completely different and new rendition of "Don't Let our Youth Go to Waste"is beyond brilliant for a set.  There are very few things to ask for or demand after a set like that.

The Gravity of Gravity

Last night, I went to see Gravity, a film by Alfonso Cuarón .  He directed Children of Men, which is a movie I am proud to own and blew me away when I first saw it.  It felt like a master class in filmmaking because of what it accomplished in single takes and the story was so fresh, new and frightening.  But, nothing can really prepare you for Gravity.  It is an experience unlike any other one I have had in a movie theater.

A lot has been written about how long it took to make and the technology designed and implemented to finish it.  What Cuarón accomplished is nothing short of breathtaking.  The film begins with a single shot that lasts for maybe twenty minutes.  There are no cuts and its meandering pace sets the film up beautifully.  Even more, because the scene is so long and there is so much to take in visually, it immerses you in the space of space.  It feels like you are really there with these astronauts because you have the opportunity to take it in as if you were out there with them.  You can compare it to visiting a scenic expanse of land.  When you get there, you are in awe.  You breathe and look all around your surroundings and you have the time to do so. You want to interact with those surroundings, have it absorb you and become one with it.  The opening shots of Gravity accomplish that same feeling except it is a place very, very few of us will ever see.  We are privileged to be there for 90 intense minutes where 3D is not used as a gimmick.  It is used to allow you to feel what it might be like to spin, dive and drop out of control in space.

Gravity also manages to make you feel very, very scared.  It constantly teases you by showing Earth from so far away, yet you can't get back to it.  In this film, outer space itself is a horrifying place all on  its own.  You don't need aliens or black-clad enemies to accomplish a sense of dread and doom.  Just being alone in a place that is unforgiving and impossible to live in without technology is enough to give you nightmares if you really think about it.  There is a line, where Ryan, Sandra Bullock's character, tells Kowalski (Clooney) that the silence of space is her favorite part of it.  Yet, as she delivers that line, there really isn't all that much silence as Earth is constantly communicating with them via radio.  That silence, or void, doesn't become so ironic and damning until shit falls apart and that happens very quickly.  What Ryan thought she loved so much becomes terrifying and crippling.

The very concept of being alone is brought to new levels as well.  We have all been alone, obviously. But, being utterly alone in space, thousands and thousands of miles from this orb we live on, is profound.  There is no safe place you can go.  In our lives, we have people and places we can go to for comfort.  We can hug someone or cry on their shoulder.  We have oases to make us feel better about things.  In Gravity, that option doesn't exist.  Instead, there are only things that can physically hurt you or you are left to your own devices to mentally hurt yourself and give in to the concept of death.  The imagined "alone" in Gravity is one of the most terrifying aspects of it, yet it is something (thankfully) many of us will never feel.  Our fears of being alone, living alone and dying alone are exploited in such a visceral manner, you almost want to grab someone after the movie is over and say, "I am here!  And, so are you!  Let's make the most of this shit simply because we are not fucking alone."  That is something I have never felt after seeing a movie because there has never been a film like this one.

Cats, Pirates and Ponds, Pirates, Ponds and Cats, Ponds, Pirates, and Cats

Pirates

To begin, I must state how happy I am for my hometown Pittsburgh Pirates.  I never left you and followed you even through the worst of years.  I became a Yankee fan while out here, switched divisions and all.  My grandmother was pretty upset when I told her that after only living in the city for a year.  But, grams, I pleaded, possibly over Thanksgiving dinner, the 98' Yankees were an incredible team.  I lived with Carlos then and he was born and raised a Yankee fan and to watch games with him, to see young Mo on our TV that summer was priceless.  Amazing, actually.  See, my grandma would watch Pirates games in the evenings with a meal she had cooked for herself and sip one Iron City beer throughout nine innings.  It was beautiful and her devotion to that team was one never fleeting.  Every fucking night in the summer, there she was: IC Light/dinner/talking to the TV.  I'll never forget that about her and I know, good bless her soul that made it 94 years, that she would be so proud right now.  Yet, she'd be a realist and know that 9 innings of ball is a lot of ball and you can't get too excited about anything until they really win it all.  (Photo above is courtesy of Lee Mazzola and Harvey Hawkens Ehrbar)

Cats

Kumo and Apache are getting along pretty well.  Sadly, the only chance I get to take a picture is when they aren't.  The one above is a rarity.  Apache is 6 months old and 98 percent grey.  His nose, which I'm obsessed with, is totally grey.  He is named Apache in homage to Commanche, the best cat I have ever owned, pure black, and was a soul who could read into everything.  His primary motive in life was to provide comfort.  Kumo, my 9-year-old boy has been taking it pretty well.  He is meowing and following me around less.  He is cool with the little guy until he wants to play.  Then, Apache gets defensive and hisses, growls, etc.  Yet, he is growing and sitting at the window as I type staring at busy Washington Avenue, amazed by it all.  He is taking big kitty strides.  Kumo, on the other hand, needs to regress.

Ponds

Today's ride, a 54-miler, took me to Forest Park, Cunningham Park, Alley Pond Park and then out to Port Washington in Long Island.  It was a great ride at points.  The above photo is from Cunningham Park which connects to Alley Pond Park.  Gorgeous urban, tree-lined trails abounded in both, yet neither are that long.  My riding partner, Joe, told me that some of the oldest trees in NYC exist in these two parks.  All of those parks in the city are awesome to ride, especially if the weather was as shitty as today (so few pedestrians).  It began with a mist  and then a drizzle and then it was just......moist?  Took a smoke break (stupid, I know) about 12-14 miles in and got munched by mosquitos.  There were dozens of trails to veer off on, but we decided to stick to our plan.  Make it to Port Washington.  So, on we rode on Northern Boulevard, which is hairy as all hell, lots of fast-moving traffic, but hills to die for.  At least going down them were to die for.  Climbing them, not so much.  Then you are in Nassau County.  It happens quickly, actually and it is a time when you realize how fucking packed in we are in so little space.  Manhassett is next, which has an old art deco theater I wish I snapped a shot of, but then that would have required stopping and that would have sucked.  Finally, after dips and curves and some more hills you arrive in Port Washington.  It is a quaint, little town and we sat and talked about Sandy.  Had she ruined it?  We looked around at the grass and lack of water damage.  We assumed she hadn't.

And, so another weekend rolled by.  Other good stuff happened...got to see some really old, good friends uptown, got news an old friend got a new job doing what she would (really) love and is getting out of a shitty work environment, and I know I have to listen to more of The Fall.

Heavy Rotation 10-4-13

Earl Sweatshirt-Doris

The West Coast hip-hop movement has been filled with moments of brilliance, violence and straight up silliness.  Quasimoto was this guy back in the day who got kind of emotional at times.  Perhaps, Drake’s openness framed Earl Sweatshirt’s, yet it feels so much more raw, straightforward and honest.  Earl says, directly, “I’m depressed.”  What?  An MC letting his guard down that low is a pretty new thing to me.  Then, on the other hand there is a song about fucking freckles off a bitch’s face.  So, it is a mixed bag of maturity.  Yet, unlike Drake, who pours out his heart again and again, this kid is still protecting it.  He is only 21 or something and he should protect it.  Yet, this album has some of the best sounding beats I’ve heard in a while (since early Qausimoto/GZA?) and his delivery is priceless. 

Sonny and the Sunsets-Longtime Companion

This album came out in 2012 and he has a new one this year, which is also really good.  I’m spacing the title at this point, but it is really good and has a bit better production value than this one.  I looked up Sonny’s name beforehand, but I want to make you, dear readers look that up yourselves because it is fun to investigate things on your own.  Anyway, this amazing album came up as a recommendation on Spotify.  I listened to it and I thought, this is a divorce album.  It turns out it was.  Yet, what is brilliant about it is that it is as open as open can be.  He spares us from too many personal experiences, which could alienate a shitty episode from listeners.  You know that he and his wife had spilt up, yet he makes that break up as universal as possible.  You feel him, in ways, kind of letting go as he sings, yet you’re not sure if he wants to give her up completely.  His voice only says so much.

Other Stuff:

Galaxie 500- This is Our Music

Townes Van Zandt- Live at the Old Quarter

Bruce Springsteen- Nebraska

Pavement-Slanted & Enchanted

Drake- Nothing Was the Same

Neil Young-Zuma