Doug Report - Benjamin

August 12, 2012
Black is the new black

And when I work with the steel and leather and alloy that makes up this imagination, I have no choice but to understand that it is the mind of another human, like me somewhat. This is an idea. It is in some ways the most unnatural thing in the world, to imagine my body attached to wheels, my hands gripping bars in this way. It is nothing more than the vision of some other mad man, an interpretation of the human form; a mental digestion of human movement. When I touch it with tools I feel it exactly thus. My editing, commenting on the thought. My criticism of this view a conscious gardening of the body. If I was ever a bramble, this bisected parallelogram will force me into a hedge, and for that am I any more beautiful? But is seeing beauty the same as beholding? Here is where I engage. I ride. I put myself into the vision of another. More intimate than that wet coitus I put my whole being into that concept of form, held I may know not where or when. God, I hope it is someone I can love because I am about to bend my will thus and succumb. Barely clothed, almost Greek, mother*%$&k. I am engaging your mind. I am becoming your ideal. I am wielding my flesh thus and you are the master of my body as I am so. 52/45 x 13-23, 700c; 23 x 28. 56. The combination to my heart.

July 20, 2012
Ah, summer

Having been on travel all over the bad food and warm beer half of Europe for the last three weeks, I have fully intended to get back to the regular Swami's routine. But I have a bunch of excuses as usual, so screw you guys. :)

Not that I've stopped riding my bike entirely, but "see you when I see you." Probably around the time I run out of Scotch, get sick of my running shoes, and miraculously wake up at 4:30 am 5 days in a row with nothing to do.

But to my point: I have neither the ambition to pull away from nor the interest to slow down and chat with anyone wearing a Mellow Johnny's kit or a UW Madison headband. I like you gurus just fine, and I have sucked your wheels because sometimes, in a rare and amorous mood, you suck mine. But if I don't know you and we don't share a jersey... well, it's like that creepy guy that takes the seat right next to you on an empty bus. If some stranger wants to stare at my ass all morning... Let me put it this way: even a dog would pass now and then, if for no other reason than to let me have a sniff, too.

Neither my morning commute ride nor on-bike cocktail hour are the appropriate time to creep up behind me and breath heavy on my neck. And if I come to a stop light after 10 minutes or so of this, do not expect me to be interested in your opinions about weather, scenery, or the Performance Bike catalog. You didn't seem to be in a hurry when I passed you at a ridiculous difference of pace, so it isn't about my helping you arrive on time. And if you're barely keeping up, how can it be about pride? You certainly aren't getting any better a workout, 'cause I hear you back there wheezing and freewheeling and sucking on your juice box. Are you just trying to make me feel like a slouch for taking an off-pace day? I don't come to your crappy Midwest town and knock the corn cob out of your...

You rightly infer that the Swami's/FOS community is not the ideal audience for this message, but there's no Google group I know of called "weak-ass, sunblock slathered Joe-Bobs on Treks." So instead, I simply ask you to forward this message (not this e-mail) to those Illinois natives you may meet, paying for our municipal services each year with the tax on their Seaworld passes: Tobias brakes and swerves erratically. He is a total $&@! who believes that your hospital bills support local starving med students.

Maybe I will have it printed on my jersey pocket. Too much?

Oh yeah, also good luck at San Marcos, everybody!