1961 Corvette.

I stumbled upon this the other day, and through a series of mindless negotiations, I became the proud owner of a 1961 Schwinn Corvette 5-speed. Super-Duper, you say. Schwinn made the Corvette from 1951~1960 as a single or 3-speed. It was in 1961 that Schwinn thought it would be cool to make a 5-speed version with a
French-made (but "Schwinn Approved") derailleur. Americans couldn't quite get a handle on this new-fangled French technology. Customers stayed away in droves. Leaving poor Ignatz scratching his head and deciding to dump the Corvette line all together. Boo Hoo. Now this thing is super rare! With the exception of the "tear-drop" rear reflector this is 100% complete and original. I have put new brake pads and white wall tires on it. I am considering a full restoration. I will keep you posted. This is the sort of thing that delights me.

No I don't

Just so you know, I don't live in Iceland. I have never been to Iceland. Bjork is from Iceland.  I would like to go someday. Maybe today...I'd better pack a lunch.

Goodbye.

An artist friend of mine is leaving for Portland. it happens. People come and go, passing through my life like a train through a station. Sometimes they have a layover in my life, sometimes I just wave. Sometimes the miss their connection and stick around for a while. Most make some sort of impression on me. Some strike me as kindred spirit. Some prop me up and make me feel special. Just as I get used to them and want to deepen the relationship, they have to move on, their train is approaching. All of the "goodbyes, keep in touch, I know I will see you agains" just delay the inevitable; They leave. I have had abandonment issues sine I was a baby. When I was 2-years-old, my mom, dad, brother and four sisters went on a two week vacation. They left me with our live-in baby sitter. I had no concept of time. they were gone and it felt like they were never coming back.
I will miss Gabe. He made me feel special. He was a man who was not afraid to say I love you. I respect that a lot. Feeling are not allowed when you are a man. I feel. I try to express it. But now I have to start over. Another train is approaching the station. I wonder who will get off this time.

short sweet and to the point

I am bored. I am burned out at work. I am tired most of the time. Soon, the sun will shine daily and I will forget all about this.

Tornado in my head

I live a pretty charmed life. That is what it looks like. I am living the dream. My life long passion has been bicycles. I love them. I have owned bikes from every decade from my 1934 Marshall-Wells Zenith to my 2011 Gary Fisher Simple City. I made my living working on them, selling them and racing them. I have travelled through 20+ countries via bicycle. I currently work in a bike shop. I am married, own a little 50's bungalow, a car (Volvo-duh) and a motorcycle. I have 2 sons. It looks pretty good from the outside looking in. I am affraid that one day I will wake up and realize this was indeed just a dream.
The truth of the matter is that I have been diagosed with rapid-cycle bipolar . I don't know what that means. There certainly is a lot of social stigma associated with BPD. Am I insane? Will I fly off the handle with the right stimuli? Can I control mysef?  Will I kill somebody? Will I kill myself? Can I be trusted?
Today, even though I am current with my meds (Lamictal & Celexa) I am fighting a stornm in my head. I want to run... no matter how fast I run, ride my bike or drive I can not escape my demons. I have been walking around my house aimlessly. I go upstairs, put on the tea kettle. wander out front yard.Go back in through the back door...forgot about the tea kettle -good thing it whistles- Back downstairs with my Irish Breakfast tea. Hiding from the storm like an Iowan hiding from a tornado. While hiding in the basement, "Breakfast at Tiffany's"  will be the movie of the afternoon...The whole while I feel like one of my sisters has me pinned down to the floor and thumping my chest mercilessly. I can't get up...That is just today. Tomorrow will be better. It had better be. If not it will be worse.
The upside to my disorder is that I am a creative, artistic, intellegent, tender-hearted romantic. That is what I want people to see. Not the disorder. When I am manic the world is my oyster. I am unstoppable. When I am down...you don't see me. I hide.
Today, I am hiding.
FixMe.

Someone I know.

I know an artist. He is an interesting man, about 25 or so. He is living the dream of a struggling artist; flat ass broke, barely sheltered, scraping together donations to get more art supplies. He has had a sorted past. He puts out some really brutal artwork. Lots of angst. Street art. You have seen it. you just didn't know who did it.  Look around you. There it is. and again over there. Look around you. You never know what you will see. That is what makes him, it, art, so interesting. Sometimes I ride my bike different routes home to see what there is to see. Because you never know. Maybe there will be nothing, but you don't know until you look. Some of the best Spokane has to offer is not on the way to anywhere. Despite the losses he has incured, despite the unfairness in his past, he has a huge, sincere heart.  A heart that wants to be heard, understood. He put out the kind of art that will likely not be appreciated until after his death. Which would suck. I know that he is good. Do otheres see what I see? He shows me things I don't otherwise get to see.
The thing about him is that he likes me, and I am not sure why. Maybe it is because I have always been nice to him, treated him with respect, helped him when I can. At least with bike work. He rides a dope fixie.
End of story. for now. You can see for yourself:
http://blog.kamikaze-cycling.com/search/label/Vrooman

The Gay Agenda

So I was talking with a couple of women the other day (Donna and Rita-pseudonyms) Donna said she would like to bring her son down to look at something that I was selling. Later in the conversation, Rita said she would have to talk to Tony about it. I asked if Tony was Donna's son. She replied, "No, Tony is ...my...domestic partner." I pondered that for a moment and disregarded it. Later in the conversation, Rita referred to Tony as "she." I made the connection. - Stay with me here or you'll jump to the wrong conclusion-
I did not judge Rita, nor Tony (or, as I now understand, "Toni") I am an accepting person. I take people at face value. I let their action form my opinion, not their title, ie: African-American, Gay, junkie...
Later, I heard a guy on TV saying that he doesn't care if somebody is gay as long as they don't push their agenda on him. I thought about that. So really, he is offended by Gays. Look at it the other way: I don't mind Hets as long as they don't push their agenda on me. You see, I was pushing my Het agenda on Rita. I assumed that Tony was a guy, and that she and he were "together." Assumptions can be seen as an "agenda."
The Het agenda is so pervasive that the guy on TV didn't realize how unaware he was.
I was unaware. We do a lot of things everyday that we are totally unaware of. It is hard to know what we are doing "wrong" when we are not even aware of its existence.
I try my best to be good. Perfection is unachievable, but it doesn't stop me from trying to learn new things, increase my awareness of my world.
Thanks for letting me share tonight.

Onset Living Disorder

Science has discovered a new disease that has apparently affected humans since the early 20th centuries. In 1910 the average life of an American male was 43.7 years. 100 years later that same man can expect to live to 81.3 years. With the increased life expectancy the symptoms begin to show with more frequency. Symptoms included delayed reaction time, slower cognition, issues with short term memory lapses, suddenly reminiscing about being in the navy during "the big one"- WWII. There is also degeneration of muscle tissue, circulatory complications as well as joint disorders and lower back pain, difficulty finding the TV remote.

O L D Coot

The AMA has recently recognized this disease as Onset Living Disorder. (OLD) Symptoms begin as early as 30 though are so mild that they go relatively unnoticed. Abby Hoffman was the first to make a reference to OLD. He was quoted, "don't trust anyone over 30," Clearly he was refereeing to the symptoms of OLD. There is no known cure, and pharmaceutical intervention is in its earliest clinical trials. People experiencing OLD usually don't recognize the symptoms, but younger people can clearly see the symptoms, usually in traffic... and will try to warn them by yelling, "Look out, old man!" The humourous part in that is that within ten years they, too will start exhibiting the same symptoms...again unbeknownst to them, and will have to rely on the younger generation to point out their symptoms... 

Thorazine may help

OLD is highly contagious, though it is not understood how the disease is transmitted... There is no link to junk food, healthy diet, alcohol consumption, nor lack thereof. All we can really do is to take it one day at a time and hope that we do not contract OLD. Fortunately, we can mask the symptoms from ourselves by living comparatively to those older than us and see their symptoms and feel subsequent relief that we are not that bad...

Stalkers

So it looks like I have actual followers so I had better produce something.
There is a fine line between following an interest and being a stalker. I don't know what it is, so I won't try to explain. Is writing about going to help? Does what I write really matter? Do I matter? What matters to me? Making people happy. That matters. Being liked and regarded among my peers. That matters. Labeling people doesn't matter. It doesn't change who they are, it just changes how they are perceived. When you find something out about a person, how does that change how you feel about them? Is someone bipolar if they are not exhibiting symptoms? Are they somehow different when you find out that the person you've known for so long is (and always has been) bipolar? That is what I am talking about. Labeling people. Have you been labeled? How does that affect your self image? Do you like the label? Is it a label that you have to live up to? Sometimes labels keep us going, other times they hold us back. How does your label work for you?