Saddle Rants: Stranger than fiction

Monday, September 18, 2006

Whatever it is that you will see or hear or read from all the things presented in this site which does not conform with your principles in life or your personal beliefs even with your musical understanding, has nothing to do with the integrity of my spiritual direction. I'm just visiting the old days and I thought that maybe, you too were part of the musical beauty and wonders of the past, and that somehow from all of this, we'll find each other and connect the string which were once cut and partly forgotten because of all the years that passed and hoping you'll try to relate with the music and stuffs written here and in a way help you in remembering some old friends, families, faded loves, people, places and events. Enjoy your stay! Pumpkin

How weird are you?

This is an ode to my old fascination about serial killers. Some things that I've missed last May during the "Serial Thrilla" writings. on "Papertrails" panel. Probably slipped through the backdoor of a darkened room inside my head.

Anyway, some weeks ago, I've made some tests by sending this message over friendster to Bhab:

Hey kid, I guess it's been quite sometime.
And I've noticed that until now,
You're not making any testimonies for me.

Here's the catch:
Since they're calling you Batangweirdo,
and you've accepted it by hanging on the name,
then try to write some weird stuffs for me.

Here's your guide:
No jokes.
No downgrading.
No glorifying.
No leveling.
No smothering.
No song lyrics nor poems.

But something like.....
Tasting your own and other people's dandruff or, stitching together leaves of plants still planted in the front house garden and wave hands to passers-by as if you're doing a routine garden check up or, playing a pentatonic scale arpeggios on a doom sounding guitar riff chord pattern with a recoiled pick-ups using tortex or dunlop picks over a pignose amp.

Your time starts.....
NOW!

I guess she didn't get it because what she had for me was a simple testimony. That's just fine than getting nothing at all, but I was expecting something else. You know, like weird things.

The truth is, you're not weird just because you popped some words like, "Hey! Let's make an ice cream, pinakbet flavor!" or "I'd like to have a tattoo around my arms, not a snake but a longanisa or an electric fan on my chest!" or just by saying, "Wah-hihi!" or "Wah-hehe!" or "Weeeeh!" like you're an Indian head dress maker related to Pocahontas.

Well, here's a support video on serial killer stuffs that I've mentioned earlier. A video clip profiling Ed Gein, the model in the film "Psycho" and partly in "Silence of The Lambs." Ed Gein, possibly a cannibal and maybe if he's still alive, I guess he's the right guy fit to answer the blog account profile question about cannibalism. Anyway, off their 1990 "Seasons in The Abyss" album, here's a Slayer song "Dead Skin Mask" set on an Ed Gein profile video clip.

Dead Skin Mask
[Hanneman/Araya]

Graze the skin with my finger tips
The brush of dead cold flesh pacifies the means
Provocative images delicate features so smooth
A pleasant fragrance in the light of the moon

Dance with the dead in my dreams
Listen to their hallowed screams
The dead have taken my soul
Temptation's lost all control

Simple smiles elude psychotic eyes
Lose all mind control rationale declines
Empty eyes enslave the creations
Of placid faces and lifeless pageants

In the depths of a mind insane
Fantasy and reality are the same

Graze the skin with my finger tips
The brush of dead warm flesh pacifies the means
Incised members ornaments on my being
Adulating the skin before me

Simple smiles elude psychotic eyes
Lose all mind control rationale declines
Empty eyes enslave the creations
Of placid faces and lifeless pageants

Dance with the dead in my dreams
Listen to their hallowed screams
The dead have taken my soul
Temptation's lost all control

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: Name: Nakabike; Location: The Pumpkinland, Philippines

Just an average guy who loves talking about the arts, bicycling, the mind, music, stuffs within our hearts, the kid inside us, things that you don't usually spill out to others, some articles in the paper, things that we see everyday yet we shrugged away.

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Once Nominated as Filipino Blog of The Week for 27 Weeks

Remembering The Alphabet

I wonder what happened to A to Z Music Shop in Anonas, Cubao? A place where I usually hang-out with friends back in the 80's. A shop where you can find vinyls straight from U.K. labels released by bands like The Dead Car, Xymox, Stiff Little Fingers, Bauhaus, The Dead Can Dance, Lick The Tins, Sham69, Tones on Tail, Balaam and The Angel, It Bites, and a lot more.

Quotes from The Famous

The secret to creativity is knowing how to hide your sources.

Albert Einstein

The Cure Artworks

Rant Titles

Foreclosure of a dream and sweating bullets

Cities in Dust and Out of Bounds

The Story of The Clash

In The Arms of Sleep and Finding Whir

The Working Hour

El Momento Descuidado: The Church

Tossed Hair and a Microphone

An ode for The Boazanian Prince

The Day I Tried to Live

Sake Table, Chinas and Skins (Part 2)

Views from The Saddle

I love bicycle riding today because I loved bicycle riding as a boy, and that's all there is to it.

If I only have kids now, I want them to love riding tomorrow, so I get them on bikes today. It's that simple. That somehow, they will learn how to balance or pedal and build memories. That's the key to it; building memories. That's what will keep the wheels turning.

There's no problem in the world you and a bunch of friends can't solve by talking it over on a long bicycle ride.

There's something special about pedaling triple digits---riding more than most people like to ride in a single day.

Races are won or lost in the mountains. So are charity rides, coffee shop out-and-backs, and solo rides when the hill from hell gets the best of you---again.

Climbing is cool; endurance impressive. But to really WOW your friends, there's nothing like a locomotive sprint. There's some truth, of course, to the old saw that sprinters are born, not made.

When removing your pedals, put your chain on the big ring to keep your hands from hitting the teeth if your wrench slips.

True and tension your wheels every other month.

How is bicycling like a religion? You feel guilty when you don't go.

In cycling, your chances of seeing barbaric violence or bloodshed aren't good. A crash or busted collarbone is about all you'll get.

4 Sounds that are louder to you than anyone else.

1. Your cleats sliding across the sidewalk.

2. The sound of your collarbone snapping.

3. Chainsuck.

4. Chain link popping.

Looking down and realizing you've been in the big ring the whole ride.

4 Satisfying hurts.

1. Sore quads the day after a hard ride.

2. Bruises earned while mastering a skill.

3. Sprinting.

4. Minor injuries received during successful repairs.

Gravel is no place to turn. Stay straight until you're out of it.

4 Moments of absolute clarity during a bridge.

1. Knowing you can.

2. Not knowing if you can---but going anyway.

3. Catching them quietly, sitting up and waiting for them to notice you.

4. Gaining, gaining, gaining---then getting stuck, dangling off their backs, dying, unable to get close and refusing to quit.

Spend one day of the week pedaling faster, not riding faster.

On hard accelerations, avoid the common mistake of holding your breath.

Don't move your weight too far forward. Your shoulders should not go past the front wheel axle.

If you're light, you spin and get out of the saddle a lot. If you're heavy, you push bigger gears and sit.

Climbing is a skill filled with subtlety and specialty---two lightweights can be as different as a sprinter is from a time trialist. If you understand the fine points of how your body should be matched to a climbing style, you'll ascend with more power and confidence.

Say this three times before your next climb: Shift to the gear before you need it.

Ride rough pavement with your hands on top of the bar. Use your arms, not the saddle, to support your weight.

Trust your bike.

In a pinch, you can use the handle of a hub's quick-release for a tire lever.

If your shifting is sluggish... from high to low in front or from low to high in rear, you have gunk in the housings.

Because we can't stalk things anymore. It's a molecular, biochemical instinct that is stifled by modern life. When you're biking you're moving fast and rapid motion harkens back to when our ancestors had to catch food to eat it---chase it down, just like predatory animals. Every gland in the body is in a high state of alert. You experience hightened awareness. You're smarter and more skilled. It's a primitive need within all of us.

Why do we really, really, really like dropping our best friends? Residual monkey instincts. In monkey and ape societies, young males learn who is stronger by play. That keeps them from hurting each other when they need to contest for power later. outsprinting or outclimbing your friends is the same thing.

Why do we feel superior to nonriders? There's something called the cavalier dynamic. Dating back many centuries, a guy on a horse was superior to foot troops. There was a characteristic disdain from the mounted cavalier to the pikeman---we are fast, we are fleet and you are not.

Why is 90 rpm the magic cadence? Science doesn't know exactly why were most efficient at this leg speed. Cyclists, not laboratories, determined that 90 is best. Riders have tried variations since bikes were first raced, and it always comes back to 90 rpm, give or take 5. Lab geeks do know that 90 isn't the most efficient in terms of oxygen consumption. But in cycling there must be something about the muscles and their ability to produce force that's more important than how much oxygen they're using. It's a complex issue.

Why is one bike never enough? Because, before they could make tools and weapons, our evolving hominid ancestors had to stock up on sharp rocks whenever they could. Unfortunately, when it formed these survival instincts your body never anticipated that at some point it would be easy for you to have multiples of things you value. In other words: It's beyond your control. What better justification for a new bike.

Shave your legs. It won't really make your bike faster, but it'll make you feel faster. Because when air goes over your bare skin you feel faster.

Why do we emulate pros with our equipment and clothing? It's not about imitation. It's about belonging. You could wear tube socks and have just as much fun on a ride, but pro costuming makes you part of something larger than yourself. This drive for connection isn't caused by or limited to our media drenched society: A lot of people in primitive countries wear, say a 49ers T-shirt even though they've never seen a football game. Self-enhancement through this kind of performance art is a basic urge.

It's hard to wait for mail while the open road sings... ...a song that calls you out again and again. Fast wheels beneath your frame, no commitments and wind through your spokes---a catchy tune. But waiting is what happens when bad timing leaves you hanging with weary mind hoping for a letter that may change your life.

Cycling's special treasure. You have legs like no other athlete. Cyclists develop a split running down the back of the calf that can't be found in other sports. When you see that V, you know the calf has been worked by riding.

Caffeine can help your body tap the energy contained in stored fat, conserving your primary muscle fuel.

Climbing makes you stronger faster than any other type of riding. Include at least one hilly course per week.

Going hard from the start of every ride isn't training, it's cruelty to muscles. Start a training ride at a gentle spin.

Avoid total lay-offs. In only 12 days you'll go halfway from your trained state to the level you'd be if you never trained at all.

Your clothing should never be more impressive than your riding skills.

Show up for a group ride with a bike that needs a bottom bracket overhaul or similar major repair. Be sure to promise to have it fixed in 5 minutes, then make 'em wait 2 hours. Everyone should be that person once. It's called empathy.

Ride with slower people. Savor the scenery and companionship. Offer tips on how to improve. Then smoke 'em on a hill. Just kidding.

Race. It's fun. It's scary. It's so fun it's scary. Oh, yeah--there's no better way to improve fitness and bike handling, either.

Ride a century, because triple-digit days separate us from the civilians. They can't even imagine it. Done one? Try a double. Already logged 200 kms in one day? OK, you win.

Turn on a spouse, a friend, a kid, or a neighbor to cycling. You're a disciple, so enlarge the flock.

Run errands on your bike while wearing street clothes. Remind yourself--and everyone who sees you--that bikes are not just toys.

Wear a helmet. I want you to keep ridin'.

The hill is a giant. Attack its head, not its foot.

Not replacing a borrowed tube is a good way to lose riding partners.

Cleaning your bike once a week is good. Cleaning it after every ride is grounds for therapy.

Is it strange to sleep with your bike? No, it's not exactly strange. That's not the right word for it. What is it exactly? Hmmmm. Oh yeah, it's friggin' incomprehensible.

More speed or more control? Control proves to be much faster than picking gravel out of your glutes while you wait for a replacement bike.

Speed is just a number. Control has many dimensions---holding your line as straight as a rail as a car barrels by a foot to your left, slowing down just enough so the light turns green as you reach it without having to unclip, being more graceful on two wheels than you ever are on two feet.