by draallllllllll » Tue Jul 10, 2007 8:19 pm
Overture
3 am on the I-50 somewhere near Pueblo, a Copper is reading scribbled notes to the Annals of Confucious while a bemused bystandard stands alongside on a bike, desperately adding in a few hints inbetween debating the merits of the Master, as to the whereabouts (directional insurance) of Kansas in relation to Utah and both in relation to the planet Terra (otherwise known as Gaia, Earth).
Introduction
Shall we discuss the merits of a Touring Bike in relation to a Hybrid Model or maybe just assume a sort of fractured understanding that lightly armored transpots of any kind, are more likely to cause a sort of disperal of bodily delicates over any stretch of concrete that may be in the forward or aft position of such a thing while in motion?
This is important because, at 3 am, a stretch of highway is somewhere near Pueblo, placed desperately in relation to city, and the back side of a green bike has been nipped several times by large, stupidly loud machines that go "klunk klunk" and have repeatedly fucked the backside of the bike.
Here is what I'm thinking; nothing at all. The sleep I've so depserately tried to emulate in between being nicked by cars, told away by state troopers, rushed out by any number of random persons who have desperately informed me that I "Can't put a "insert yanky obscenity" tent in their ol' damn forest" is as near crashing into me as the cars have done three times in the past four hours.
And as I find a spot, in an empty lake bed somewhere, my notebook opens, I pull out a fountain pen and scribble a title....
"So... A Review of Colorado?
Its nice. Dark. There are mountains (sort of). The far east portion is flat, as per my understanding, except it isn't a comfort for a map to list the relative rise above sea level for a five hundred foot climb over so five miles, when its some early time in the morning, and the only ocupation the mind puts up with, is trying to find a suitable spot to put a tent up.
Ah well... Colorado is fine. Except the Suburbia scares the bloody fuck out of me.
Sort of. Just a giant expanse of fumes, trucks, concrete, other such constructed symbols, that end in forest and plains not five miles in any direction. Its sort of perplexing to wonder how and why those ordered souls can go about their jobs with the knowledge that, every city in Colorado over a popluation of 20,000, is merely a big slab of slightly molded rock, in an overwise dark expanse of wilderness.
Gives a perspective on the feelings of California and the Goldrush. Or why no one steps outside Shanghai, or ventures into any location in Australia that is at most, five miles away from a pub.
Colorado, a couple of cities sitting in a swarm of bears."
And I'm annoyed by the sirens of a state trooper pulling up next to me, getting ready to bitch about something after uttering the line of "What are ya doin here?" I'm about ready to pull out a baggie full of rock salt and pretend its cocaine, just so we can have something to talk about instead of the usual "Huh?" I give them and then the official ramble while they try to pull my bike away (the couple of guys I've run into who think they can do this (Colorado state troopers or police) are embaressed and appologetic when I don't give it to them).
This one squats down next to me, me changing modes and trying to sketch the female that has shined their flashlight in my eyes, and in all, trying not to take a tent pole and shove it through their heart.
We talk for five minutes, they tell me there isn't anything wrong with me being here, just that they were curious, and after ten minutes of discussion of Confucious doctrine (after they order me to give them my notes and the drawing of their hat), they leave, advising I find a hotel somewhere.
Hey... Its a hundred miles to the next city! Thanks alot.
[u]Overture[/u]
3 am on the I-50 somewhere near Pueblo, a Copper is reading scribbled notes to the Annals of Confucious while a bemused bystandard stands alongside on a bike, desperately adding in a few hints inbetween debating the merits of the Master, as to the whereabouts (directional insurance) of Kansas in relation to Utah and both in relation to the planet Terra (otherwise known as Gaia, Earth).
[u]Introduction[/u]
Shall we discuss the merits of a Touring Bike in relation to a Hybrid Model or maybe just assume a sort of fractured understanding that lightly armored transpots of any kind, are more likely to cause a sort of disperal of bodily delicates over any stretch of concrete that may be in the forward or aft position of such a thing while in motion?
This is important because, at 3 am, a stretch of highway is somewhere near Pueblo, placed desperately in relation to city, and the back side of a green bike has been nipped several times by large, stupidly loud machines that go "klunk klunk" and have repeatedly fucked the backside of the bike.
Here is what I'm thinking; nothing at all. The sleep I've so depserately tried to emulate in between being nicked by cars, told away by state troopers, rushed out by any number of random persons who have desperately informed me that I "Can't put a "insert yanky obscenity" tent in their ol' damn forest" is as near crashing into me as the cars have done three times in the past four hours.
And as I find a spot, in an empty lake bed somewhere, my notebook opens, I pull out a fountain pen and scribble a title....
"So... A Review of Colorado?
Its nice. Dark. There are mountains (sort of). The far east portion is flat, as per my understanding, except it isn't a comfort for a map to list the relative rise above sea level for a five hundred foot climb over so five miles, when its some early time in the morning, and the only ocupation the mind puts up with, is trying to find a suitable spot to put a tent up.
Ah well... Colorado is fine. Except the Suburbia scares the bloody fuck out of me.
Sort of. Just a giant expanse of fumes, trucks, concrete, other such constructed symbols, that end in forest and plains not five miles in any direction. Its sort of perplexing to wonder how and why those ordered souls can go about their jobs with the knowledge that, every city in Colorado over a popluation of 20,000, is merely a big slab of slightly molded rock, in an overwise dark expanse of wilderness.
Gives a perspective on the feelings of California and the Goldrush. Or why no one steps outside Shanghai, or ventures into any location in Australia that is at most, five miles away from a pub.
Colorado, a couple of cities sitting in a swarm of bears."
And I'm annoyed by the sirens of a state trooper pulling up next to me, getting ready to bitch about something after uttering the line of "What are ya doin here?" I'm about ready to pull out a baggie full of rock salt and pretend its cocaine, just so we can have something to talk about instead of the usual "Huh?" I give them and then the official ramble while they try to pull my bike away (the couple of guys I've run into who think they can do this (Colorado state troopers or police) are embaressed and appologetic when I don't give it to them).
This one squats down next to me, me changing modes and trying to sketch the female that has shined their flashlight in my eyes, and in all, trying not to take a tent pole and shove it through their heart.
We talk for five minutes, they tell me there isn't anything wrong with me being here, just that they were curious, and after ten minutes of discussion of Confucious doctrine (after they order me to give them my notes and the drawing of their hat), they leave, advising I find a hotel somewhere.
Hey... Its a hundred miles to the next city! Thanks alot.