Can we heal the world
with baked goods and hugs, instead?
It is worth a shot.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Nicolai: My Nishiki
[I plan on posting pictures taken with my phone at a soon but later time.]
A few months back I bought a used bike off of craigslist for, what I supposed, was a pretty barebones price. It is an extra large, (likely) early 1980's, blue Nishiki. I planned on learning something about bikes in the process of cleaning it up, customizing it, and fixing it. Following the immediate needs of a new tube and tire, and new chain, I took the opportunity to augment it with new toe-clip pedals, new handle bars and tape, lights (a must, really), a back-rack, and a much needed cassette cleaning. Most of this work was made possible with Mr. Tim Haynes's assistance, but I did most of it myself. The new chain did break once and, since I was away from home, was mended at Single Track bikeshop, and many of the pieces were purchased from Bike Revolutions and Absolute Bikes - the rack, an outlier, was purchased from Bike Hub.
In November, I believe, the stem of the bike (what attaches the handlebars to the headset and frame) began to wobble in a persistent and obvious way. I suspected some looseness in the headset, something requiring the tightening of a wrench and some grease, but it worsened and not until mid-December did I tend to it. The day I purchased a wide-mouthed wrench, thanks to birthday funds from my father, I refused to bike up the hill to deliver a finals paper in fear of catastrophic damage given the state of the stem. That evening, upon loosening the headset and pulling out the stem - an entirely novel experience for me - I discovered that the base of the stem had broken off. Had I attempted to bike up the hill, the journey may very well have released the stem entirely from the headset and sent me reeling. The bike was unusable until I could replace the stem. Unfortunately, doing so required the removal of the handle bars and tape I was so proud of installing on my own in the first place.
Before leaving for the holidays, I bought a new stem and cleaned out the headset pieces. Unfortunately, by this time, Tim had left for Lawrence and had taken his tools and grease with him. It wasn't until returning to Flagstaff a few weeks ago was I able to install the stem, reassemble the headset, rewrap the tape, and make the Nishiki serviceable again. I obtained new tools and bike grease to do so unsupervised. Though I was forced to undo steps two or three times to get the installation correct, I managed to do so on my own. (Assisted, again, by the ingenius multi-tool my father had gotten me for Christmas.) The next day I hesitantly rode the bike around town and, sensing no rambles or uncertainties in the reassembly, felt satisfied with my work. Tim even commented on the apparent soundness of the bike shortly after his return.
This endeavor had been a frustrating, insightful, and somewhat costly affair; all to a degree greater than I had expected. The process has also endeared me to the bike more than I feel I have ever been connected thereto. I feel that the bike has also become itself, recovered from misuse and disuse, by my hand and mentorship both digital and interpersonal. The Nishiki is also the most ideal fit to me of a bike I have owned. Though I still ride the Cannondale, occasionally referred to as Silver, and the Raleigh that stay in Lincoln, I can sense the imperfections of my frame as I ride them. With Nicolai, the name I feel the bike has given itself, I struggle with it, not because of it. Its gears still click from time to time and its friction shifters require tightening now and then to prevent unwanted gear change, but these are characteristics of the bike itself, quirks that one abides to maintain a relationship.
Back in December, before the damage revealed itself in full, from outside Mia's my compatriots and I discussed bicycles and bike theft with a passer-by. He commented that theft of an identifiable bike, one that is distinctly someone's bike, is foolhardy because, once a bike is clearly yours and not someone else's, you can identify it anywhere. I asked, then, how he felt about the Nishiki; to which he responded that it was an obvious bike, a clear and identifiable one. I took the comment to heart, especially after doing more work on it. A comment like that toward my bike, after so much work has been applied to it, reflects on me as well; just as a compliment to a close friend is complimentary to you as well. I am proud of recuperating and riding Nicolai, and I hope that Nicolai has similar, corollary sentiments.
A few months back I bought a used bike off of craigslist for, what I supposed, was a pretty barebones price. It is an extra large, (likely) early 1980's, blue Nishiki. I planned on learning something about bikes in the process of cleaning it up, customizing it, and fixing it. Following the immediate needs of a new tube and tire, and new chain, I took the opportunity to augment it with new toe-clip pedals, new handle bars and tape, lights (a must, really), a back-rack, and a much needed cassette cleaning. Most of this work was made possible with Mr. Tim Haynes's assistance, but I did most of it myself. The new chain did break once and, since I was away from home, was mended at Single Track bikeshop, and many of the pieces were purchased from Bike Revolutions and Absolute Bikes - the rack, an outlier, was purchased from Bike Hub.
In November, I believe, the stem of the bike (what attaches the handlebars to the headset and frame) began to wobble in a persistent and obvious way. I suspected some looseness in the headset, something requiring the tightening of a wrench and some grease, but it worsened and not until mid-December did I tend to it. The day I purchased a wide-mouthed wrench, thanks to birthday funds from my father, I refused to bike up the hill to deliver a finals paper in fear of catastrophic damage given the state of the stem. That evening, upon loosening the headset and pulling out the stem - an entirely novel experience for me - I discovered that the base of the stem had broken off. Had I attempted to bike up the hill, the journey may very well have released the stem entirely from the headset and sent me reeling. The bike was unusable until I could replace the stem. Unfortunately, doing so required the removal of the handle bars and tape I was so proud of installing on my own in the first place.
Before leaving for the holidays, I bought a new stem and cleaned out the headset pieces. Unfortunately, by this time, Tim had left for Lawrence and had taken his tools and grease with him. It wasn't until returning to Flagstaff a few weeks ago was I able to install the stem, reassemble the headset, rewrap the tape, and make the Nishiki serviceable again. I obtained new tools and bike grease to do so unsupervised. Though I was forced to undo steps two or three times to get the installation correct, I managed to do so on my own. (Assisted, again, by the ingenius multi-tool my father had gotten me for Christmas.) The next day I hesitantly rode the bike around town and, sensing no rambles or uncertainties in the reassembly, felt satisfied with my work. Tim even commented on the apparent soundness of the bike shortly after his return.
This endeavor had been a frustrating, insightful, and somewhat costly affair; all to a degree greater than I had expected. The process has also endeared me to the bike more than I feel I have ever been connected thereto. I feel that the bike has also become itself, recovered from misuse and disuse, by my hand and mentorship both digital and interpersonal. The Nishiki is also the most ideal fit to me of a bike I have owned. Though I still ride the Cannondale, occasionally referred to as Silver, and the Raleigh that stay in Lincoln, I can sense the imperfections of my frame as I ride them. With Nicolai, the name I feel the bike has given itself, I struggle with it, not because of it. Its gears still click from time to time and its friction shifters require tightening now and then to prevent unwanted gear change, but these are characteristics of the bike itself, quirks that one abides to maintain a relationship.
Back in December, before the damage revealed itself in full, from outside Mia's my compatriots and I discussed bicycles and bike theft with a passer-by. He commented that theft of an identifiable bike, one that is distinctly someone's bike, is foolhardy because, once a bike is clearly yours and not someone else's, you can identify it anywhere. I asked, then, how he felt about the Nishiki; to which he responded that it was an obvious bike, a clear and identifiable one. I took the comment to heart, especially after doing more work on it. A comment like that toward my bike, after so much work has been applied to it, reflects on me as well; just as a compliment to a close friend is complimentary to you as well. I am proud of recuperating and riding Nicolai, and I hope that Nicolai has similar, corollary sentiments.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Tea, scone, haiku
Pinpricks and kind words,
infusions and diffusions,
flavor dusk's coming.
...
Trying to write something empirical, direct, and clear today. The sun has fallen behind a small building and the night's oncoming chill takes its place. Tea and friends and taste hang still in my mouth, my mind, my spirit. I am happy, but the cold and evening are taking my persistence from me.
infusions and diffusions,
flavor dusk's coming.
...
Trying to write something empirical, direct, and clear today. The sun has fallen behind a small building and the night's oncoming chill takes its place. Tea and friends and taste hang still in my mouth, my mind, my spirit. I am happy, but the cold and evening are taking my persistence from me.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Haiku & Reflection
Dream architectures --
lighted, rhythmic, suspended --
melt in winter's heat.
...
Coming from a few inspirations, I am going to try to regularly write reflective haiku and post them on the tumblr. If I have the time, which is unlikely, and the ability, which is questionable I hope to provide short reflections on the subject of the haiku. To some of you, this may sound like something out of The Elegance of the Hedgehog, which it is, though I only realized that after considering it this morning during sunrise. Paloma Josse has a related project having to do with moments of beauty in the world, especially if they have to do with people. Miss Lauren has also pledged herself to poetic responsibilities on the blog which she stewards, Space to Simplify, a project I endorse.
It has been a long time since I have written much in the way of poetry, and rarely with any particular focus. This initiative is in response to my own shortcoming in maintaining this blog or the tumblr especially well. The haiku format, though demanding, is brief in quantity but demanding of attention, concision, and insight. Therefore, I can allow myself a great deal of consideration but can manage to write the outcome from my phone or write it by hand and transcribe it later. In addition, I hope it brings clearer moments of beauty, awakening, and reportage to the Philosophy that Bakes Bread. Finally, my previous experience with haiku resulted in some, shall we say, problems and this, therefore, demands of me a certain reconsideration of the format and how I might use it. These are muscles underused and I hope that whatever can be crafted with them is at least pleasant to read.
...
Now, to the reflection: I have just finished my lunch, following a change after work this morning at the bakery, and am enjoying the crisp air and midday warmth. My awning is decked with long, skeletal icicle dangling from a slowly shifting curtain of snow that has been melting and refreezing for the last three weeks or so. Icicles are connected by the rims of now vanished curtains, and the icicles themselves suggest cavernous depths or inverted towers. Drops fall perpetually in a musical way that oddly reminds me of a BBC story from early this morning about a Norwegian crafter and performer of musical instruments made of ice. I am underdressed for the chill, especially as it is on the northwest side of the building and is in shade, but love the now fading delicious contrast of food-warmth in my belly with the lasting body heat of bakery work, with the wintertime ice show and cool air. Oddly, though, the icicles suggest light by their very structure the way they carry images in themselves, and the thinness of their bodies. I am also thinking more and more of the work I hope to do on my detective story with Lorenzo Vincenzi and the role of dreams therein, not to mention the difficult or altogether absent sleep of my own nights these days. Following the reading material of this past semester, and having quickly read Ursula K le Guin's The Word for World is Forest, I perceive dreams to be increasingly substantial, foundational, constructive; they are not ethereal or passing, but potent manifestations that carry with them some sense of the world that requires our attention, or some focus by which our attention can be guided. These ideas, though, clash or contrast at least with the melting, the dissipation of those icicle, their metaphors, and whatever it is we can glean from them. The respond demands immediacy, interpretation, and remembrance in no simple way.
lighted, rhythmic, suspended --
melt in winter's heat.
...
Coming from a few inspirations, I am going to try to regularly write reflective haiku and post them on the tumblr. If I have the time, which is unlikely, and the ability, which is questionable I hope to provide short reflections on the subject of the haiku. To some of you, this may sound like something out of The Elegance of the Hedgehog, which it is, though I only realized that after considering it this morning during sunrise. Paloma Josse has a related project having to do with moments of beauty in the world, especially if they have to do with people. Miss Lauren has also pledged herself to poetic responsibilities on the blog which she stewards, Space to Simplify, a project I endorse.
It has been a long time since I have written much in the way of poetry, and rarely with any particular focus. This initiative is in response to my own shortcoming in maintaining this blog or the tumblr especially well. The haiku format, though demanding, is brief in quantity but demanding of attention, concision, and insight. Therefore, I can allow myself a great deal of consideration but can manage to write the outcome from my phone or write it by hand and transcribe it later. In addition, I hope it brings clearer moments of beauty, awakening, and reportage to the Philosophy that Bakes Bread. Finally, my previous experience with haiku resulted in some, shall we say, problems and this, therefore, demands of me a certain reconsideration of the format and how I might use it. These are muscles underused and I hope that whatever can be crafted with them is at least pleasant to read.
...
Now, to the reflection: I have just finished my lunch, following a change after work this morning at the bakery, and am enjoying the crisp air and midday warmth. My awning is decked with long, skeletal icicle dangling from a slowly shifting curtain of snow that has been melting and refreezing for the last three weeks or so. Icicles are connected by the rims of now vanished curtains, and the icicles themselves suggest cavernous depths or inverted towers. Drops fall perpetually in a musical way that oddly reminds me of a BBC story from early this morning about a Norwegian crafter and performer of musical instruments made of ice. I am underdressed for the chill, especially as it is on the northwest side of the building and is in shade, but love the now fading delicious contrast of food-warmth in my belly with the lasting body heat of bakery work, with the wintertime ice show and cool air. Oddly, though, the icicles suggest light by their very structure the way they carry images in themselves, and the thinness of their bodies. I am also thinking more and more of the work I hope to do on my detective story with Lorenzo Vincenzi and the role of dreams therein, not to mention the difficult or altogether absent sleep of my own nights these days. Following the reading material of this past semester, and having quickly read Ursula K le Guin's The Word for World is Forest, I perceive dreams to be increasingly substantial, foundational, constructive; they are not ethereal or passing, but potent manifestations that carry with them some sense of the world that requires our attention, or some focus by which our attention can be guided. These ideas, though, clash or contrast at least with the melting, the dissipation of those icicle, their metaphors, and whatever it is we can glean from them. The respond demands immediacy, interpretation, and remembrance in no simple way.
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