Rode 75 Miles today on a Banana and 6 bottles of Gatorade.
I'm ready. No more training, next weekend is the Tour. time to put on my game face,
Be serious, find those Big Foot Foot Pints. watch for attacking Chubracabras,
I'm sure this year I'll get another picture of bigfoot.
I've asked that they bulldoze the hills so I can ride on level ground, I was assured it
would be done. I'm ready........ Lets do it....
gary
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Friday Night Special
On Friday nights I stop on the first block of Bourbon and talk to A**y,
take his picture in the outfit de jour , he's quite a personality, charming, hospitable
interesting and a big guy. . A**y works 4 nights a week till 3:am.
He see some sights. . look for him next time your on Bourbon and say Hello
 |
| Made him a CD with his Pictures. |
The Cicada's are bad this year, some migrated here from Japan after the Nuclear release from the tsunami, I was riding down the levee just as dark fell , I saw a foot long brown tube coming at me, it was too late to react, it plowed right into my chest, drove me back , flipped the bike and I landed on my back semi-conscious.. As I came to I lifted my head to see a Cicada sitting on his tail shaking his insect head to see straight, he looked me over , he was about 30 pounds and a good 15 inches long, he reached under his wing with his little insect leg and pulled out a pack of Winstons, another leg pulled out a zippo lighter ,he lit his smoke , drew a hardy drag, exhaled and looked me in the eye and with a insect voice said , watch where your going asshole, i could see the smoke plume from his cigarette as he flew off toward the woods.
That sucker was tough. My chest still hurts. . Chirp,Chirp,Chirp......
Sunday, September 04, 2011
Sweetest TABOO.
It was one of those extremely hot night rides, 95 degrees, I owned the levee,
loaded and loaded with liquids I laid flat the asphalt at breakneck speeds, breathing in sync with each leg pump, thighs inflated, calves flexing, mp3 player jamming, headlight clearing the way, I once again entered the paradox dimension, the culmination of backlogged imagination, wishful thinking, topped off with daydreams during every math class I ever had.
Big iron wheels of the streetcar screeched erratically to a stop , standing in the door that clanked and clamored to open , dropped its step, escorted me to the pavement and discarded me for the night. The dull olive green car scurried off , like a conqueror going into battle checked my gear, iridescent blue green shirt, olive dress slacks, black belt , polished black shoes slightly scuffed, hair combed back and sprayed to withstand an 80 mile per hour gust , a pack of Winston's, Rolaids, and the hope that tonight a Valkyrie will appear and promise me that spot in Valhalla. Pulling the fresh pack of Winston's from my shirt pocket I packed them on my knuckles , expertly pulled the gold plastic thread releasing the top then peeled the aluminum paper off one side , tobacco aroma immediately flushed my senses for they knew that nicotine high was on it's way. Slammed the pack on my right hand forcing one cigarette only to surface , brought it to my lips, returned the pack to shirt pocket , reached in pants pocket pulling out the shinny zippo, like a magician flicked it with 2 fingers , lit my smoke and retired it as I took that first long lingering deep drag rushing nicotine into the bloodstream eventually to anxiously awaiting brain cells painting a smiley face on me.. I crossed Canal Street on the walk sign managing to stay between the white lines taking aim at the sidewalk, proceeded to march slowly up Bourbon Street keeping my balance yet rolling a little side to side, made it to the second block where my nose was attacked by a boiling Luck Dog, I though for a minute , if he's in boiling water that's not too lucky , hear the screaming "no cover, no minimum, dancing girls on stage" , the same guy I always see at every door, dark complected , slicked back hair, big pearly teeth, pencil thin mustache, dark blue velour suit, matching silk tie, and those all leather shinny brown shoes with the stitch band across the top , slightly pointy and uncomfortable looking. I stared at them a few minutes, he turned his attention to me " come on in man, hot chicks in here" looking in the door I couldn't find the hot chicks, some worn out scag strippers that couldn't dance or strip much, I starred as long as I could ,moved on to meet Hilda the Hooker, "hey baby want a date" "sure" I replied, "who with", "with me", "gee Hilda, your feet are dirty, your clothes are stained, your short of teeth, you have a tattoo of a cougar on the side of your leg, and those earrings weight more than a pound" " think I'll pass", "asshole" was her last word on the subject , hooker talk for "see you later baby". My last words were of kindness , " tell everyone at the clinic hello". Taking the last drag of my smoke " the filter was burning" I dropped it in the gutter water , a combination of beer, vomit, spit, spilled drinks, bile, blood and Vitalis Hair Tonic, it flared a moment before it sizzled out. I lit another to enjoy the blues at the side door of the Famous Door, leaning on the post enabled me to dig the music ala Maynard G Crebbs, and maintain a upright position as expected by the others occupying my aura. Finger snapping , head bopping, toe tapping , I was Tom Waits without a piano, what an inspiration in music and life, he lived it downtown. The band took a break , that was my cue to move on , taking a left on St Ann I had one block to walk in the darkness , loneliness , spookiness of a side street in the quarter at night.. Focused on one foot before the other , dodging the broken cement , galloping cockroaches, and garbage cans I made it to Dauphine, . standing on the corner ? , pulled out a fresh smoke , lost the last one somewhere, I stood erect as possible , flicked that zippo to create fire, lit my smoke , took a long drag ,, paused and honored the establishment that lay before me, "The Roach", it was an event just to stand outside and watch going's on, there was no door, just an opening, a portal , you couldn't go in , you waited at the opening and when your Karma was right the crowd melded you in , direction was random , actions were random , the band was great, and some time during the night you reached the bar,"Vodka Sour" I requested , received same, turned around to face the band and was no longer at the bar , I had moved 10 feet transcendentally or somehow.. The air in the club smelled green , it looked green, it was green, I inhaled as much as i could mixing it with Winston's one after another. I approached a young man clinging to a support pole, his extra large khakai pants drug to floor, covering his JC Sandals , grass stains on the knees ,was fashionably accented by a gray t-shirt displaying lunch, dinner, Chianti and a smidgen of vomit. I asked "how you doing" he looked past me a said "what", his eyes seemed to be unattached from his brain, I waddled on through my own fog, worked at my Vodka Sour hoping to achieve balance with the other intoxicants, never works. Caught in a crowded corner I was helpless , unable to escape several women pierced my space and if not for the tattoo's of sun's , cougars, butterfly's, Japanese symbols, and unicorns , laid out on flesh more deserving a Sharpe and displayed with pride despite the location I might of moved on one. Who wants to see half a unicorn on semi exposed breast being tortured by a lift bra. It seemed like long lingering days , calculations brought me to sanity in the year 2023, but an hour later my Karma diminished, my eyes focused, my bain cells started communicating, the amoeba patrons disgorged me , my sidewalk carried me to a waiting green wooden stoop, close to the ground, creaky, worn, used, splintery, ugh. I sat down , looked around and thought what am I doing here loaded on a stoop on Dauphine St in the middle of the night dressed like it's 1967 smoking Winston's, just then a bright light blinded me, it was another bike coming my way, I moved over, we passed each other , I continued on my ride, listening to "The Sweetest Taboo " by Sade.. Mello. . . What a ride.
What a life. Did 40 miles that night.
loaded and loaded with liquids I laid flat the asphalt at breakneck speeds, breathing in sync with each leg pump, thighs inflated, calves flexing, mp3 player jamming, headlight clearing the way, I once again entered the paradox dimension, the culmination of backlogged imagination, wishful thinking, topped off with daydreams during every math class I ever had.
Big iron wheels of the streetcar screeched erratically to a stop , standing in the door that clanked and clamored to open , dropped its step, escorted me to the pavement and discarded me for the night. The dull olive green car scurried off , like a conqueror going into battle checked my gear, iridescent blue green shirt, olive dress slacks, black belt , polished black shoes slightly scuffed, hair combed back and sprayed to withstand an 80 mile per hour gust , a pack of Winston's, Rolaids, and the hope that tonight a Valkyrie will appear and promise me that spot in Valhalla. Pulling the fresh pack of Winston's from my shirt pocket I packed them on my knuckles , expertly pulled the gold plastic thread releasing the top then peeled the aluminum paper off one side , tobacco aroma immediately flushed my senses for they knew that nicotine high was on it's way. Slammed the pack on my right hand forcing one cigarette only to surface , brought it to my lips, returned the pack to shirt pocket , reached in pants pocket pulling out the shinny zippo, like a magician flicked it with 2 fingers , lit my smoke and retired it as I took that first long lingering deep drag rushing nicotine into the bloodstream eventually to anxiously awaiting brain cells painting a smiley face on me.. I crossed Canal Street on the walk sign managing to stay between the white lines taking aim at the sidewalk, proceeded to march slowly up Bourbon Street keeping my balance yet rolling a little side to side, made it to the second block where my nose was attacked by a boiling Luck Dog, I though for a minute , if he's in boiling water that's not too lucky , hear the screaming "no cover, no minimum, dancing girls on stage" , the same guy I always see at every door, dark complected , slicked back hair, big pearly teeth, pencil thin mustache, dark blue velour suit, matching silk tie, and those all leather shinny brown shoes with the stitch band across the top , slightly pointy and uncomfortable looking. I stared at them a few minutes, he turned his attention to me " come on in man, hot chicks in here" looking in the door I couldn't find the hot chicks, some worn out scag strippers that couldn't dance or strip much, I starred as long as I could ,moved on to meet Hilda the Hooker, "hey baby want a date" "sure" I replied, "who with", "with me", "gee Hilda, your feet are dirty, your clothes are stained, your short of teeth, you have a tattoo of a cougar on the side of your leg, and those earrings weight more than a pound" " think I'll pass", "asshole" was her last word on the subject , hooker talk for "see you later baby". My last words were of kindness , " tell everyone at the clinic hello". Taking the last drag of my smoke " the filter was burning" I dropped it in the gutter water , a combination of beer, vomit, spit, spilled drinks, bile, blood and Vitalis Hair Tonic, it flared a moment before it sizzled out. I lit another to enjoy the blues at the side door of the Famous Door, leaning on the post enabled me to dig the music ala Maynard G Crebbs, and maintain a upright position as expected by the others occupying my aura. Finger snapping , head bopping, toe tapping , I was Tom Waits without a piano, what an inspiration in music and life, he lived it downtown. The band took a break , that was my cue to move on , taking a left on St Ann I had one block to walk in the darkness , loneliness , spookiness of a side street in the quarter at night.. Focused on one foot before the other , dodging the broken cement , galloping cockroaches, and garbage cans I made it to Dauphine, . standing on the corner ? , pulled out a fresh smoke , lost the last one somewhere, I stood erect as possible , flicked that zippo to create fire, lit my smoke , took a long drag ,, paused and honored the establishment that lay before me, "The Roach", it was an event just to stand outside and watch going's on, there was no door, just an opening, a portal , you couldn't go in , you waited at the opening and when your Karma was right the crowd melded you in , direction was random , actions were random , the band was great, and some time during the night you reached the bar,"Vodka Sour" I requested , received same, turned around to face the band and was no longer at the bar , I had moved 10 feet transcendentally or somehow.. The air in the club smelled green , it looked green, it was green, I inhaled as much as i could mixing it with Winston's one after another. I approached a young man clinging to a support pole, his extra large khakai pants drug to floor, covering his JC Sandals , grass stains on the knees ,was fashionably accented by a gray t-shirt displaying lunch, dinner, Chianti and a smidgen of vomit. I asked "how you doing" he looked past me a said "what", his eyes seemed to be unattached from his brain, I waddled on through my own fog, worked at my Vodka Sour hoping to achieve balance with the other intoxicants, never works. Caught in a crowded corner I was helpless , unable to escape several women pierced my space and if not for the tattoo's of sun's , cougars, butterfly's, Japanese symbols, and unicorns , laid out on flesh more deserving a Sharpe and displayed with pride despite the location I might of moved on one. Who wants to see half a unicorn on semi exposed breast being tortured by a lift bra. It seemed like long lingering days , calculations brought me to sanity in the year 2023, but an hour later my Karma diminished, my eyes focused, my bain cells started communicating, the amoeba patrons disgorged me , my sidewalk carried me to a waiting green wooden stoop, close to the ground, creaky, worn, used, splintery, ugh. I sat down , looked around and thought what am I doing here loaded on a stoop on Dauphine St in the middle of the night dressed like it's 1967 smoking Winston's, just then a bright light blinded me, it was another bike coming my way, I moved over, we passed each other , I continued on my ride, listening to "The Sweetest Taboo " by Sade.. Mello. . . What a ride.
What a life. Did 40 miles that night.
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