Huffin'n'Puffin
Nice day for a ride.
First some work on the concerto, major surgery, to be exact.
What was once in the first chapter is now in the second inning and what was once in the second paragraph is now in the third act,
But it wont stay there, just doesn't fit.
Thence to the Jack in the Box for a teryaki bowl and to Fred Meyers for some provisions to leave with the security team who will be guarding the place while M and I while away some hours on the Orrygun coast hoping for some wintry weather to churn up the surf and create some nice splashery on the rocks and blowholes.
We will take pictures in hopes of frightening certain fun-loving Texans who shall remain (pseudo) nameless.
Hence and heretofore the ride;
From here to the head of the Chief Sealth trail (pictures in an earlier post) and on to a side hill jaunt to the ridge on Beacon Hill.
It's a long pump up sinewy paths and fast coasts down similarly spaghettioid paths.
Once at the top the road leads to Jefferson Park where I made a right turn at the north end of the golf course and wended my way to McClellen St. which is a very steep four block hill down to Rainier Ave.
When I was a kid on my 3 speed Phillips my paper route used to end here and I used to pedal the hell out of the first block and hang on tight for the rest of the drop.
Got airborne over the ridge of the last block.
I would swear I was touching 60.
I would so swear now that I'm a grownup anyway.
I didn't swear when I was a kid.
(several months ago).
Besides, today there was traffic and construction had closed off all but one narrow lane (no relation) so I ground down my brakes a bit and kept it under 20 and stopped to let the cars and busses go by.
After that, It's pretty easy to get down to the lake and the usual eventual climb out of Seward Park
I had planned on riding the whole of the Waters street hill but cars got in my way so I took a side trip about half way up and cruised around a bit to get the trip meter up to 14 mi.
Distance, 14.6 miles
Time, 1:36:58 hrs
Average speed, 9.0 mph
Max speed, 27.4
Odometer 1181
Temperature 56 deg
I still need an outer front chain guard so that I don't have to spend so much time looking down at the gears to make sure it goes in the right place.
It either won't shift at all or it falls off the gear completely.
Ta for now, see you guys in a week.
You may talk amongst yourselves.
First some work on the concerto, major surgery, to be exact.
What was once in the first chapter is now in the second inning and what was once in the second paragraph is now in the third act,
But it wont stay there, just doesn't fit.
Thence to the Jack in the Box for a teryaki bowl and to Fred Meyers for some provisions to leave with the security team who will be guarding the place while M and I while away some hours on the Orrygun coast hoping for some wintry weather to churn up the surf and create some nice splashery on the rocks and blowholes.
We will take pictures in hopes of frightening certain fun-loving Texans who shall remain (pseudo) nameless.
Hence and heretofore the ride;
From here to the head of the Chief Sealth trail (pictures in an earlier post) and on to a side hill jaunt to the ridge on Beacon Hill.
It's a long pump up sinewy paths and fast coasts down similarly spaghettioid paths.
Once at the top the road leads to Jefferson Park where I made a right turn at the north end of the golf course and wended my way to McClellen St. which is a very steep four block hill down to Rainier Ave.
When I was a kid on my 3 speed Phillips my paper route used to end here and I used to pedal the hell out of the first block and hang on tight for the rest of the drop.
Got airborne over the ridge of the last block.
I would swear I was touching 60.
I would so swear now that I'm a grownup anyway.
I didn't swear when I was a kid.
(several months ago).
Besides, today there was traffic and construction had closed off all but one narrow lane (no relation) so I ground down my brakes a bit and kept it under 20 and stopped to let the cars and busses go by.
After that, It's pretty easy to get down to the lake and the usual eventual climb out of Seward Park
I had planned on riding the whole of the Waters street hill but cars got in my way so I took a side trip about half way up and cruised around a bit to get the trip meter up to 14 mi.
Distance, 14.6 miles
Time, 1:36:58 hrs
Average speed, 9.0 mph
Max speed, 27.4
Odometer 1181
Temperature 56 deg
I still need an outer front chain guard so that I don't have to spend so much time looking down at the gears to make sure it goes in the right place.
It either won't shift at all or it falls off the gear completely.
Ta for now, see you guys in a week.
You may talk amongst yourselves.
Labels: splog
posted by Lane Savant at 5:37 PM
37 Comments:
Terrific that you took advantage of the almost Spring weather astride faithful Fidelio. It is hard for me to remember your childhood connection to Beacon Hill and Renton, and Redwing Street, and the then very young Miss M. You came into my life as a lad from West Seattle who happened to go to Sealth High School, whose family was wealthier than mine; yours being lower middle class and mine being upper lower class I suppose.
I bit the bullet and decided to send a poem to Bobby Byrd. We will see what his reaction will be. I decided that 4 BUCK GAS would be a nice opener. I have found over a dozen Harvey Goldner poems and items to post. Hope you found time to read some of them. I did receive the CD you sent me; thanks. I will listen to it tomorrow on my CD player at work.
And it is OFF TO THE OREGON COAST yet again. Well you did pick a terrific week. It is supposed to storm like hell and rain buckets. Good reading weather. Melva is feeling sad that we have not returned to the ocean since her birthday last October. Might have to do something about that.
Glenn
Is it not a tad ironic that we both ended up in our second marriages with Miss M's, and both of them are so divine?
..............Glenn
I married every woman who wiggled her hips at me, and that's why I am broke today. I lost count after 8 marriages.
..............Mickie Runey
What is essential for real marital bliss, at least from my point of view, is that the women you marry keep getting younger, but will still take up the function of taking you to raise, and mothering you properly.
..................Woodie Alan
What does the Oregon coast have that the Washington Coast does not have? Oh, that's right--a decent view of the ocean, sea stacks, fine hotels and motels, and like that.
.........................Eddy Emerald
From the air, the ocean is getting browner every day. What's up with that?
...............Jonathan L. Seagull
Aren't you excited that Michael Jackson is engineering yet another comeback. His upcoming concert sold out in one day. He still has a hell of a fan base.
................Little Richard
Have I told you that I started Ramada Inns? That was after they kicked my ass off television.
.................George Goble
I have heard that there is a fine gay bar in Astoria, called the HARD MAN. Perhaps you could find a friend, even another composer in the shadows there.
...................Tiny Tim
You know that Douglas is straight, or at least not bent. Why would you suggest such a thing?
....................Emily
All I'm suggesting is that he is open minded, and open to new experiences. I did not mean to impugn his manhood. Perhaps he can just send in Lane Savant then.
.....................Tiny T.
There is another fine gay bar in Lincoln City, I have heard of, called Tower of Testosterone. It is in the back of a pizza joint. Tell them Elton send you.
.......................Elton's John
Monday, Monday, blue as hell, which is odd, but there it is. I spent some quality time on the net over the weekend, which is different for me, so there is less to cogitate and bitch about this fine cold and rainy morning. I think of the Palmers down there in Or-he-gone, and hope they get the blustry and wet wonderland they craved.
I listened to the CD you sent this morning, and liked all of it; every piece and tune. Since mostly, these days, I listen to KING FM classical, it fit right into my mood. The 2 violin concerto was especially fine, although I thought it might already contain a scream, which it does not, unless like a dog whistle, the decipals are beyond the range of my auditory equipment. Thanks again for sharing.
I entered a "comic poetry" contest with Winning Writers, where I placed with my war poem last year, sending them CHEEZ ALMIGHTY. They have this odd but fun rule that you have to submit the poem first to one of the scam poetry sites, who will respond with great praise,and ask me to allow it to be published in a book for 75 bucks. I picked poetry.com that accepts anything and everything. This is a free sumbmission contest (the war poetry contest cost 15 bucks), so I jumped on the entry. It was over a year ago that you got me on the comic poetry jag, and GROUTT, GROUT FISHING IN AMERICA, KID GROUT, AND CHEEZ ALMIGHTY emerged. Like my dog poetry, you were the catalyst, the muse, the miastro, and we, the writers out here, could only bend to your mesmerizing will and do your bidding, enit?
It is hard to know, to judge, to ponder on who might show up in this commenting session while the cat is away. I got hung up for a time yesterday trying to digest one of Bobby Byrds essays on Art Lewis, the arts in El Paso, jazz, death, sex, and rock and roll. I transfered his prose, of course, with the odd linebreaks, into poetry, as free as the Mexican wind that smells like cocaine and coyote shit blowing north out of Juarez. The ghost of Pancho Villa is smiling I'm sure.
I may mine some more Harvey Goldner from the book Bobby sent me. But it's a drag now, since I have to transcribe and retype each word of each poem I might select. Much more fun to find it out there on the web and just paste it in super fast; wham, bam, and there it is on FFTR.
I go to see the Optometrist tomorrow, and then we will rate the opacities on my crystalline lens, and see what has to be done next. My diminishing acuity is quite bothersome actually.
Glenn
Hallo, Lane, Lane's M, and Glenn!
Hope you are having a nice stay on the Orrygun Koost, with no precipitation, but enough wind to stir up the waves!!
Lane and Glenn are not the only males with partners whose names begin with M; my parener's official name (Margrit) begins with an M, though I call her its Latin equivalent, Perle, and, for Speight, she's the LL (Lovely Librarian).
Said LL will be having an eye OP on Thursday (the 19th), when her own right pupil will be replaced with an artificial one; hope all goes 100% perfectly!!!
She (and I) send regards to Lane's M (she and I don't know Glenn's M).
Glad Friday the 13th was a lucky day for a bike ride; over here we also had 56 degrees F (12 C).
We look forward to reading about your adventures in Orrygun and viewing pictures thereof!!
Tschüß,
Anonomann (+ LL)
Hallo Anonomann and the LL:
Three M's, now that is a cosmic coincidence, enit? 3M company is big over here, Scotch tape(s) and all that. I heard one time that the Kennedy family ran it originally. Meredith has met my Melva once, but yes, we have not had face time with you or your LL during your visits here. Only 50 miles apart, Doug and I, and yet hardly "see" each other. Life has a way of getting us into routines and projects, and it is hard to break through to new experiences. '
My eye problem is cataract, that aging demon that will come in some capacity to all of us. I should not be worried, but still perhaps I know too much about eyes, and so I understand the risks involved only too well, even thought he success ratio is very high, in the 95% tiles.
35 degrees this morning, and raining with snow mixed very hard, and it will continue for days and days. Soon we will have to worry about flooding of the rivers around here. It is just one damned thing after another.
Glenn
For some reezin, der ain't nobody talkin too much dis time. Don't get it. Sumtimes dis comments sexshun is jist buzzin. Maybee everyone is jist too damn bizzy to give a crap.
..........Vinnie
Yeah, even Emily kept her piehole shut when Glenn put on the ode to Emily poem last week. Maybe she is mellowing in her old age. How old are you now, Emmie, 150?
...........Edgar Poo
Like so many other things in life, one cannot force we spiritual commenters to just respond on cue. It don't work that way.
............Eddy
I am curious if Doug visited any of the gay clubs there on the Oregon coast. It might do him a world of good to expand his Id, and his sphincter.
........Tiny Tim
Tiny, you are crude as hell. Most gay men would just appreciate Doug's company, and would not come on to him.
.........Lee Liberace
How about that Obama. He hasn't tried to walk on water yet, but that is coming up, I'm sure.
........Rush Limpbow
You are nothing more than a sad and misinformed clown, Rush. President Obama is simply trying to DO what needs to be done. It is certainly not his fault that he inherited a world, and an economy raped, pillaged, abused by the Great Oil Party, and the demon Junior. If you think you are the new face of the Republican party, they will never rise again.
..........Tim Robbins
Too serious dudes. This is not that kind of blog. Remember to include some levity in your comments, and in your heart.
...........Eddy Emerald
I don't think that a suicidal rockandroller biker punk such as yourself needs to lecture the Limpbow.
............Rush
As I stated on CNN, I think that Rush is a fine man who has the welfare of this country held high in front of him. I resent the static and disrespect that is too easily heaped upon him.
..........Dick Chainey
In defense and agreement with Eddy, assholes....what we need here is a rally around our new leader, and some big support. Sniping at him now because he is actually doing what he promisted to do is absurd beyond belief. I know I kissed Nixon's ass once, but I have lived and died to regret it.
...........King Presley
I like the idea put forward in Glenn's sevenlings, where Barack called Sherman Alexie to the White House for a game of Horse, and then Alexie is appointed the new head of the BIA.
..........Thomas Buildsafire
I certainly never figured I would outlive Paul Newman, but one never knows how life will go, and who will outlive whom.
.......Anthony Curtis
I wonder if it is snowing down there in Oar-he-gone? I just heard that it is snowing at Sea-Tac. That sucks.
...........Butch
Bite me, Poo. Of course I noticed that Glenn had posted that poem that was dedicated to me. I just get weary of your incessant prattling, drooling, and whining.
..........Emily
I know you are, so what am I?
....Edgar Allen Poo
Child, ingrate, dunce, dork.
.......Emily D.
Spinster, dyke, recluse, bitch.
..........Edgar P.
Now here we go. Dis is morr lick it. Everbody tearing new assholes left or right.
.........Vinnie
I often just assume that Emily and Edgar actually do like and respect each other. They just put on this show, this sham rivalry for the effect.
...........Eddy E.
Yeah, yeah, even this weird week in shuffling by like a crippled homeless vagabond, and one can only hope that Doug and M are just having a terrific time at the Oregon shores.
Yeah, my cataract is "mature" enough to send on a consult to an ophthalmologist. They will call me soon to set up an appointment. So part of the stress and worry is eleviated. Next I can worry about the surgery itself, and it's outcome.
My TFC monthly meetng went well, albeit only about a dozen people showed up; usually it's twice that. Staying out late on that night, missing 2 hours sleep, really puts me in the sleep deprivation mode.
Sherman's new book of poetry is not out yet. Looking forward to diving into it when it gets shipped to me from Amazon. I have enjoyed discovering and ferreting out poems by Robert Creeley. I bumped into his work while looking at Bobby Byrd's blog site.
Glenn
Goodness, Bobby Byrd and I are becoming email pals. Will wonders never cease? He and I are about the same age, so sometimes the past resonates similarly for both of us. He is a successful poet, whatever that is, and I am a wannabe. That perhaps will always be my lot in life, a perpetual Wannabe Indian, poet, novelist, film reviewer, etc. Or maybe I am all those things already, but hardly anyone knows it; except for the readership of this sterling blog that is.
Somehow the week has spun itself dry, and is ready to lie down and take it like the time whore it is. Personally, I pounded the shit out of it, and have emerged on top; for once.
Soon the Palmer/Means express will roll back north, from twisty narrowness, salt air, kelp aftershave, to the joy and solace awaiting on a street called Redwing, alongside a cesspool with a pretty face called Washington, where Fidelip awaits patiently, and your surviving cat, whatever its moniker is, watches for you, and all the denizens of the deepness of cyber space, all the fans of FFTL, and all the commentors will raise a cheer, dive face first intot a guiness, and be happy to see you, to read you, somewhere sandwiched hard between hip and hooray, enit?
Melva has reserved a cottage on Vancouver Island, west of Victoria, for our upcoming wedding anniversary; it is up to 16 years now. I had a hell of a time finding my passport, for I had put it in a "super secret place", but finally it did surface. I renewed it in 2003, and haven't used it yet. I considered getting one of those enhanced driver's licenses, but the state wants 60 bucks for it, and as Vinnie would say....
fuggedaboutit!
Glenn
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