A sunny Friday bonus post.

There's a Beauty in Suburbia

There's a beauty in suburbia
Encapsulated in
The concrete dappled symmetry
Of rain-wet streets.

March is optimistic, raining
Clean, wet truths.
Glistening on buckled driveways:
Hope, faith, love.

(It was 1955, and they
And their dreams were young.)

Raleigh Sprite, Day 3

Man hours: 2
Hours to Date: 5.5
$0.00

Removing cottered cranks off of a 32 year old bike is no trivial matter.

I carefully read the venerable Sheldon Brown's instructions on the removal of cottered cranks. (Cottered cranks are an older style of crank that is secured to the crank spindle by means of a tapered metal dowel [cotter] that is wedged into a hole through the spindle and crank arm.) I was able to remove the cranks without much difficulty after rigging up a contraption of 2x4's and firewood to act as a support for the bottom bracket cup. Sheldon suggests using a length of pipe, but, having none at hand, I placed the firewood directly under the bottom of the cotter as I prepared to bludgeon it with my framing hammer. Since the firewood was relatively soft, it accepted the struck cotter to a depth of about a quarter inch—just enough to loosen its bonds and allow me to remove the wood and give the cotter a final smack to remove it.



Removing the cranks aided in my sanding, and I finished removing the majority of the paint from the planar surfaces. I will have to attack the smaller crevices by hand. I'm considering using aircraft stripper or somesuch, but I have a strange attachment to a.) the lining of my lungs and b.) my state of malignancy-free health. So we'll see. Regardless, I think I'm going to be ready to paint next weekend—the Saturday of which is supposed to be 80 degrees and sunny: perfect painting weather, and I have no lack of faith in Google weather.

In other news:
I have wrapped (after re-cabling/housing) the starboard handlebar on my Felt racing bike. For Michael A.'s sake, I must say that it is perfect. Without the aid of lowbrow electrician's tape, it emerges as it were by generation from the bar itself—like a carbon fiber vine sprouting at the perfect distal interval from the stem, and winding its sinuous way round the hoods and drops in loops too symmetrical to be of human origin.





Another notable achievement: I had my first official success BBQing chicken. I was grilling up some breasts to be sliced for chicken caesar salad, and they actually turned out great (I've been through some chicken fiascos in the past): 6 hours in a basic herb marinade, and then I added a healthy dose of Shiraz to the plastic bag and sloshed everything around. I basted the upward side with the marinade whilst they cooked.

Stay tuned for Saturday's birthday BBQ for Josiah, when I attempt a Jack Daniels/pepper/garlic salmon feast. I think the marinade is going to go something like:
1/2 Cup Jack Daniels
1/2 Olive oil
1/2 Brown sugar (packed)
Like, 1/4 cup chopped up garlic
Some good shakings of Tabasco. Smoked Tabasco if I remember to grab it.
One half of a lemon, all mashed up and squeezed out into the bag.
Lots of peppercorn
A bit of garlic salt
[Whatever else strike me while I'm putting stuff into the marinade bag... maybe some halved grapes? Maybe some sauteed mushrooms?]

So, marinade for about 2 or 3 hours (since it's fish), lie by the pool, toss the frisbee... and then heat the grill up to high for 10 minutes to get it nice and hot. Then about four minutes each side, basting with the marinade.

Dedication: for Mike Arzie, with much love.

This was not premeditated.

Exhibit A: Notes/doodles from a more positive phone conference.


We notice in this piece a representative sampling of some of the typical ingredients of a Watsonion phone-doodle from the Software Sales Period. Most notable is the repetitive-generative pattern emerging along bi-symmetrical lines. As the pattern reaches the extremities of its extension, the initial propogation becomes obscurred and the fractal devolves into chaos. One senses the Ego seeking order amidst the blind and inexorable forces to which it is subject.




Exhibit B, "Phone Conference in Which Frustrating Things Happen in Regard to Prospective Client P_______ M________" is an aberrent work in which the mathematical precision of a typical Watsonion is left behind in pursuit of sub-concious emotional primacy. Linear symmetry gives way to a radial-pointillistic style that draws the observer in while punctuating its hypnosis with bursts of angst. One commentator has described the donut-like shapes as "Naked eyes-- stretching to infinitude-- that simultaneously rage against Fate and petition it for mercy."

Untitled

This untitled poem was the first poem of my adult life. I had written a few previously, but they represent an earlier ethos. This poem is dense; the references and images move quickly from young adulthood through middle age and to death.

I wrote this while on a business trip to Roseburg for a grinding door to door sales job.

Untitled

"I'm looking for a Taco Bell."

"Yeah, I'm hungry-- looking into real estate."

Young Sampson sees and she

Looks good to me. Visions of
Sweet nectar gluttony--
and kings.

"I think I shall invest in land
And work the soil with my hand."

(Delilah is the magazine that
Keeps him from his grand designs,
From all that visionaries dream,
From all that he would wish to build.)
His oxen glutes just turn the wheel
His frozen heart forgets to feel.
Kansas and a tractor lease
Reflect in cyan irises.
A suit, a card, but not a sword;
A plastic plaque is his reward.

The news will tell with humid buzz
The measure of the man he was:
"He killed Hugh Hefner's son today.
In other news, the mayor's gay."

Raleigh Sprite, Day 2

Raleigh Restoration, Day 2

Man hours expended: about 1.

$0.00.

Project hours to-date: 3.5

I made some progress on sanding the frame.

Megs and I also talked about colours (she often visits me while I'm working in the garage-- if Jos is to bed and Wynn is in between feedings etc.) We're thinking a milky celeste green, but different enough from a Bianchi to make it different. It will probably veer toward the blue side of celeste. It will have a moderately wide Brooks in one of the darker, whiskey-hued brown leathers. It will be gorgeous. Those are the plans at any rate, should we live and et cetera.

I also installed a stem riser on my Felt road bike, making it fit me and making it look kind of dumb.