103020 Bristlecone

I hope you all can sense what is happening right now..in general..everywhere.  We, as an organism, have some sort of a cancer.  I don’t mean that orange anomaly, either.  That is just the fruiting body of something much more insidious that has been growing and spreading its hairy, sticky mycelium deep under the very soil on which we stand for many moons.  It’s none of those bullshit conspiracy theories, either.  White supremacists, sex-cult power brokers, scary scary mean Chinese and Muslims, lone-wolf pseudo-anarchist dipshits of all makes and models…  

They are nothing more than manifestations of our mind, because we are all afraid.  That’s it, and that’s all.  

Lemme clarify.  All of those things Do exist.  They are real, physical things.  They have power to hurt and harm.  But…why do you suppose someone whom you have never met, nor about whom you know next to nothing, would want to harm you?  

Just think about it for a minute.

Also think about it from a perspective which divides the population numbers of all nations by ten million and rounds appropriately.

25 people in the US, 140 in China, 30 and change in the Middle East, 15 in Mexico, and around 15 in Russia.  Throw in N. Korea for good measure…never know what that guy is up to.  Now visualize a globe with the appropriate number of pins on it representing those population numbers.  (note: the numbers are probably off, and do not account for regional differences within said nations, but I was writing fast and had to go from memory)  I find this to be immensely helpful when I think about things.

Who has the most natural resources?  Who is deficient?  Who has surplus?  Who is prepared to fight to defend those resources?  Who wants to fight to take some?  Who needs to take an economics course?

But most important of all:  Who is prepared to offer?  Who is prepared to trade, simply to balance the equation?  Who is more interested in the entire organism?  Which is to say, who is capable and ready to perform their role in that organism for the sake of its survival, even to the point of death?  

We are the organism.  We are the ones who will answer those questions, inevitably.  We are the ones who can direct and distribute those resources around the planet Earth so that the organism can return to homeostasis…to peace…to balance.  It can happen in one day, if we want.  The actual Things don’t need to even manifest, at all.  They are also simply fruiting bodies of something Else which has been growing deep under ground.  This thing is the root complex of all of the Good, Positive thought and intent of every person who has ever filled their role in this organism to the best of their ability.  Those people tend to teach others.  Thus the organism continues indefinitely.  

That root complex is so much more powerful than the malignant fungus I mentioned earlier, which can only survive by leaching nutrients from the dead, or the dead on their feet.  In a fight between a redwood and a mushroom, I’ll take the tree.  Fungus reproduces by vomiting out zillions of spores, which are just shitty ideas; they are small things.  Very small.  But if they happen to latch on to a particularly strong host, or community, which may be sitting quite idly by, just waiting to be exploited for its natural resources or even just its decency, it will quickly begin to spread in quiet, whisper-like threads which take hold in the minds of those who may actually be filling their roles quite well, but who also may not have a clear idea of what our organism is, or why it is at all.  That is dangerous…tisk tisk so very dangerous.  We all allowed this to happen because we are all the same.  We all have a role to fill in our organism.  Earth is not our host…it is us.  And the reason it exists is simply to fertilize our, frankly, limitless minds, so that we can work toward our Finished Form.  I do not know what that is.  But I do know that nothing reaches its true finished form without becoming beautiful.  We are all meant to be beautiful.  Do not confuse beauty with aesthetics.  Beauty is form; aesthetics are function.  And you know what they always say…

Take a look at what you do.  Now think about what you are best at and what you love to do.  Start doing it.  Even if it’s just a little bit, between work and family and recreation.  Even if it is only three minutes at first.  Just start doing it.  Go.  Now.  Yes, now!  Start to think about your character.  I know there is something in there that you used to love to do as a kid, that you were so good at you just knew that was gonna be your “job” when you grew up.  Disregard everything else from the age of around ten or eleven and up.  Also disregard the particulars of the resources available to you back then.  We all come from different socioeconomic potluck, after all.  Just think about what made you feel fulfilled.  Even if it was just reading..like me.  Keep it simple.  None of us was made to do anything other than Our unique role in life.

This all may be a load of crap…but I don’t think so.  I have a lot on my mind.  A lot of it is becoming clear.  I am not insane or “out there” or weird, or whatever people call each other when someone says something that makes them feel uncomfortable, but that they Recognize.  Think about that, also.  And actually, maybe I am all those things…but I really don’t care anymore.  I will no longer willingly give in to the things toward which fear directs me.  Not without considering the fearful thing with honest intent.  

I will no longer willingly direct any negative thought or action toward anyone or any thing.  Not even the old man driving 30 in a 45 zone because when you tailgate a slower driver, you necessarily create a high pressure zone between you, literally and figuratively.  All that anger and fear-aggression is directed straight at that man.  Do we know that man?  Do we venture to guess why he is driving 15 under?  Do we give in to the seductiveness of hate and anger and the accompanying dopamine rush?  Fortunately for that man, the outlet for all that pressure is simply either side of that gap, where it is whisked away by the wind.  Unless he glances back and decides to engage, in which case you end up with two people intensifying their fear and anger, possibly leading to physical conflict.  Or do we back off, creating the necessary Low pressure zone, and attempt to create a vacuum right there in the middle of that gap, which has the power to suck all that fear and anger right the hell through your windshield and into the void, where it dies a most terrible death.  

Good will always prevail, folks, in the long run.  But sometimes it becomes diminished, just a bit, by illness.  The only thing capable of causing that illness is us.  And, no, forest fires and hurricanes are not illness.  They are simply performing their role to the best of their ability.  The fact that they attacked the US, incessantly, this year is simply the end result of Our actions.  We are the ones screwing with ocean temps and water cycles.  They just go where we tell them.  

Eh…Think I’m done for this morning.  I have a lot more in the works though.  I may or may not put it out there but I think it is important to do so if you have something helpful to say, even if it is simply retelling the oldest story ever told from a fresh perspective…as long as you do so with the honest intent of being of service to Us.  We.  Humanity.  Be human.  Reach out.  Love your family and friends with a full heart.  If you feel called to lead, lead well.  I don’t like the situation any more than you.  HA!  …”What we've got here is failure to communicate. Some men you just can't reach. So you get what we had here last week, which is the way he wants it... well, he gets it. I don't like it any more than you men.”

Later…

#Dreadstorm and the Continuation of Our Descent into Collective Malignant Madness...and Bonsai

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I am in need of a release.  Just a general release of energy.  It’s not good, healthy energy, either.  It’s some awful, dark, fear-aggression thing that has me jerking my head around all over the place at the slightest rustle of just about anything, really.  It is a primal fear which originates at the top of the spine where the very most ancient part of our humanity resides with all the dread it had to face then just to live another day.  It is dread, actually.  I feel actual dread at the prospect of continuing on with my life status quo doing the same thing I have been doing and pretending that we are not in the middle of the collapse of society as we think we know it.  Or as we want it, rather.  Or maybe even need it.  

There are some of us left in the world, particularly here in the U.S., who are connected closely enough with the civil unrest of the sixties, that we can appreciate it in a more tangible way than the youth of today.  We can get some sense of the brute-force energy directed like a Tyson-uppercut at the jaw of our elected power structure in the forms of student and civil uprising and a couple of people with the Balls, figuratively speaking, and eloquence to get noticed and get traction.  I have my parents, both of whom were teens in 1968, for reference to what things were like then.  So, some of us can relate to those times through direct reference or even just through the general leftover air of the Power to the People movement and the vapor trails of hope left over from a society that was on the verge of discovering that PTTP was not just a slogan, but an actual thing.  That power is, in fact, a reservoir of wisdom and knowledge built up over millennia which can and should be accessed at any time by anyone who wishes to learn from past mistakes and/or build on established strengths.  This power should only be put to use by people who genuinely want to do good with it.  To corrupt it by any other use is like stealing from your grandparents when they are already on a fixed income.  It’s despotic and unforgivable and I want to sharpen a stick at both ends for that fat orange sow who so brazenly flaunts the fact that he is doing exactly that.  

Anyway, so I am connected to the sixties through my parents and they are connected to the fifties because that’s when they were little kids so that is the time in which their little brains and minds began to consolidate information and form lasting memory pathways, to a large part.  And that time was a time when the middle class was thriving, largely due to the fact that we made our own shit, and a lot of shit for other people.  But we also made TV.  Leave It To Beaver, Mr. Ed, Gilligan, Looney Tunes…  A whole bunch of harmless, escapist, wholesome crappy shows that were goofy-funny and gave those kids the message that this is how things are supposed to be because this is largely how things are already.  The people who made that first TV also made it through the war and built a whole new way of life on the backs of steel workers, construction, road and infrastructure creation and upgrades, etc… and they were strong and resilient and then they just set up camp in front of the TV, assuming their kids would go ahead and continue this glorious utopia they had set up.  The problem is that they gave up just a little too soon.  They spent too much time voraciously eating red meat and running through barrels of oil and then…wham.  Kennedys dead, Vietnam, Nixon, racial injustice and high tension, acid, music…pure nutso.  But the strangest thing happened.  Because (I guess) there was such a huge psychic divide between the Big Nap of the baby boom and the juggernaut of creativity brewing within the boomers themselves, somewhere along the line the umbilical cord snapped and these boomers figured out that they could actually rearrange the country and make it better…actually better, if they could just muster enough of their ranks with powerful communication skills and genuine charisma to come forward and lead them.  The problem, again, lied with the age divide.  Also the issue that anyone who did come forward was killed.  But there were just too many of the old guard left who did not want to vote for a candidate who clearly had the best interests of the people as the primary goal, rather an older white man who looked kindly and seemingly had the Ozzy and Harriet life, as evidenced by the stepford family with which he resided.  And that was basically it.  Oh and also this notion of “retirement” began to worm its way into the national consciousness, completely setting people up for failure by promoting the idea that people just stop working (contributing) at some arbitrary point in their sixties.  But it almost worked.  They almost had it.  

Things are much different now.  The ages bleed together more profusely.  We now have a bunch of generations that are actually defined but by which I am regularly confused.  I know I am gen-x but then there are millennials, gen-y, and gen-z.  wtf.  I am 46 and there are actually at least two “generations” after me?  Anyway, to my point, people have babies at all walks of life, these days, and these arbitrary dividing lines are really much blurrier than the way they are portrayed.  Perhaps because this is the case, we may have reached a tipping point where enough of the population is young enough, progressive enough, and astute enough to notice that we are currently being ruled by a witless cave troll with the social awareness of a wolverine and the morals and appetite of Tarrare.  Not that swapping presidents would accomplish anything of any real consequence…  That will take some time.  Engineering a slow-burn style of anarchy takes careful planning and lots of interchangeable pieces and contingencies in case something catastrophic happens, like a war or a pandemic, which it will because that is the best way to gather mass attention away from a cheap grift.  But…the point is that it is possible now, assuming that the cultural age divide is as important as I think, to aggregate all of these post-boomer generations together and enable them all to formulate a commonly-held system of beliefs which could eventually transform into the basis for a new system of—something.  Life, maybe, or at least the act of living.  Maybe base it on Universal Moral Law or something…I dunno.  Just give a shit.  That’s really all I ask.  

I’m really just super tired right now.  Really threadbare.  My head is so mixed up I am usually in a state of rigor and I am basically paralyzed by anxiety also.  It is actually difficult for me to even write this.  But, Christ, I can only take so much and be quiet about it.  Why do people consider the most trivial things so goddam important while they basically ignore the psychic pain in which they, themselves, struggle to breathe every day?  Why do we respond to every single fucking minor irritation with rage and reactive aggression?  Why do we struggle to feed our own brothers and sisters while we force feed ducks and cattle so privileged people can eat their livers and petit filets?  Why do we seem to make all the wrong choices?  Are we really this much like a virus?  Will we just eat our host until we are forced to either move planets or die along with it?  We’ve cut our space budget so much that space exploration is now left to the private sector.  This is something about which we were once MOST PROUD!  We put a person on the moon and when they got there, not only did they do science, they drove around in a fucking dune buggy!  Will we have enough visionaries like Elon Musk in the future who care about exploration and learning and have the resources to exploit that care?  Will we ever drive dune buggies on Mars?  It seems as though exploration and learning for the sake of themselves is no longer in fashion.  It doesn’t make enough money.  

Fuck it…mortgage the earth itself and all her gold and spices. 

These questions are but a small percentage of the thoughts that whirl non-stop around my head and have caused this dread.  I have a difficult time pretending to be anything close to happy.  I cannot focus on anything for more than a few minutes, and I am afraid to go to work (NOT because of covid-19).  The media calls it “covid fatigue” or something like that but covid is only the the thing that tore off the bandage and exposed just how raw and huge and just how not-healed the national wound is.  A wound that began when that first person figured out they could exploit another person and end up a little ahead on the deal.  Original Sin of Economy.  Probably happened before recorded history.  But if it were recorded in some cave painting somewhere, it would be a picture of a fat, white douchebag offering someone three small rocks for two huge ones or some bullshit like that.  

It’s about to storm…I do love a good storm.

-C 

Oh yeah...Bonsai is pretty cool.  I've been dabbling.  And liking.  #BONSAIDanielSan

Training Break...The Zone-6 300KPH MagLev....DC Pig Fat is Slowing the Earth's Rotation!!

Ren made me do it, as usual...

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Well I’m sitting here watching the UCI track world cup and working on sponsorship stuff for Zone-6 and the thought just occurred to me that I really want to go ride my bike.  The thing is, though, that three days ago I made a commitment to myself that I would take a couple weeks off the thing because I feel really worn out.  I’m tired a lot, it takes me about an hour and a half to get my legs under me when I do longer or harder (that’s what she said) rides, and my freakin hamstrings and glutes refuse to release fully when I roll out and stretch…which is every day.  Those things tell me I need to take a break.  And I need to REALLY take a break, I mean not just from riding, but from running also, which I do a considerable amount of in the off-season.  And I just started running two weeks ago and just got over the initial soreness of said activity.  So that sucks.  Now I will have to go through that shit all over again.  But…gotta get my body recovered and healthy and ready to start training for next year.  

Some athletes do not need to take a break like this.  I know plenty of riders that keep training year round at a high level.  They may ease off the intensity or shut it down altogether, but I know a lot who just keep going as though they are getting ready to race in three weeks.  In my opinion, unless you actually ARE going to race in three or four weeks…doing a lot of intensity this time of year is pointless and a waste of energy.  But…it’s just an opinion.  But but but…I am an opinionated guy and I’ve done a lot of research on the subject and…well…I’m right.  So STOP training like you’re racing and just take it easy for a while.  Your body will most likely end up stronger and much more ready to resume actual, focused, and, most importantly, high-quality training training when it’s time to ramp up the intensity in February (why is there an R in February?) in order to be ready to race those early season March and April races which nobody gives a shit about anyway.  

Yeah, that first race in March is fun and all…and it’s great to see all your racing buds again and get the sprint legs firing, and maybe even start some shit and get a break going, but…alas…no one at Indy Crit, TOAD, Intelli, or Quad City weekend says “Hey you guys, you better watch out for (insert miscellaneous rider name) because he won Marian three months ago…  And to be clear, I am not discounting the Marian crit as not worth your time at all…I wish there were many more early season races on the regional calendar.  Were that the case, I would place a much higher priority on inserting a peak into my training calendar for that time of year.  The sad fact is that there just aren’t enough early season races to justify it.  But, again, these are only my opinions.  And they matter very little in the grand scheme of things.  AND…for the record, I am sooooooo very grateful for Dean and every single other race director who puts in the time and great effort to put on races in these fragile and uncertain times for the racing community.  I will always support them as much as possible.

Oh so Dead Sexy

So, what else?  Well…Zone-6 is definitely upgrading its stature for 2020.  We are sponsor hunting at the moment and getting our kit designs started.  We have significantly bolstered the roster for 2020 and I believe we will be protagonists in the local and regional elite races.  I am still in the business of development so we have also added a few more young up and coming cat 4 and 5 riders to the stable.  Matt Laubach will be team manager for 2020 while I remain the director and basically Bossman (as Rachel and Bri still refer to me) and chief horsewhipper.  I am super proud of all the guys for their commitment to our team vision, which is rider development, person development, and community involvement with a focus on volunteer efforts.  

The focus on volunteer efforts will definitely involve our respective geographic areas and individual and organizational needs within, but will also extend to many of the races in which we compete.  Last year, I had everyone who raced Indy Crit do a volunteer shift for Jen and it worked out very well.  For 2020 I will expand that and be proactive in contacting race directors to offer our guys in a support role.  As I mentioned, I am passionate about developing the individual person FIRST, and the bike racer second.  And giving back to the community which supports you is a key element in the development of a well-rounded individual.  

Too often we are apathetic toward those in need of a hand in life.  But we gladly accept that same offer of help when we need it most.  I firmly believe that the more often we go out of our way to offer assistance to those in need, the more we can actually change our everyday and automatic thought processes for the better.  That is, our go-to decision making can begin to default toward a more positive choice when faced with apathy vs action.  I am always amazed and reinforced at how good it feels.  

Oh year…I shall now tell you what I have learned on the News:  wild fires = bad.  Turkey and Kurds and Ukraine and military aid and quid pro quo and bombs and missile strikes…all very bad.  Impeachment and ridiculous two-party political division and CNN vs Fox--more badness. And a certain political leader of the free world (more like a tribal chief, in reality, when considering his constituency) is a poorly-programmed automatous and grotesque caricature of some greasy pig-fiend from Tammany Hall not fit for the Chuck E Cheese Band, let alone the Hall of Presidents.  A first-order cretin dunderhead who somehow lacks the moral awareness which is automatically instilled in the very genome of every human being from birth.  The thing's dreadful psychopathy is the sort usually reserved for the worst of the criminally insane.  ----I cannot recall where I heard that heinous description, but I’m sure those words are floating around somewhere in low orbit, up for grabs should anyone need a mantra to repeat whilst in deep meditation or just looking at an iPad while pooping.  I suspect the author of those words is a dangerous man, and not to be trusted around the weak-minded.  

Editor’s note: Mr. Richter subscribes to NO political party whatsoever and would most likely vote for Kermit the Frog from the Muppet Show, as a write-in, due to his humility and altruism, two words which we believe are scheduled to be deleted from Webster’s Dictionary in their next edition.

Recovery is Real...The Bottom of The Well...Kurtz Gets His Wish...Chris is Sleepy

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Recovery is good.  Going very well…much better than I ever expected.  AA is good.  Lots of great people there who Genuinely Care about everyone in that community.  And it is a real community.  I never thought much of it, before this shitstorm happened.  Or, rather, before I caused it to happen.  But my attitude toward that very gracious group of folks changed from the moment I began to listen with a completely open mind and a completely open “heart”. 

What does that word mean…?  Heart.  I never have really considered it, unless I considered it a very trite thing to mention.  But so many people use it in every day speech.  It pervades our daily lives in both the written and spoken word.  You hear it in news stories, in song lyrics, in television shows and movies (Lifetime movies, especially…hahaha).  You read it in novels, in print news, in greeting cards, and poetry.  Of course, every single athletic coach in the world uses it in every day speech.  And motivational speakers…well they are maybe the most frequent users of this powerful trope. 

The trope, itself, is a stand-in for so many things.  It could be a metaphor for positive emotions like love, or kindness, or empathy (have a heart).  It could stand for courage, or concerted effort, or strong self-motivation as it pertains to any sort of physical or emotional effort.  There are probably a hundred different ways to use the aforementioned word.  Maybe more.  For my part, I suspect “open heart” means the capacity to abandon ego and learn fearlessly.  Yeah…I think that’s the whole nut, here.  And with that being said, my heart is open now.  It is open now because it was completely empty and on its way to the cemetery; but was still beating very faintly and slowly and I, with the help of Big Guns Upstairs, snatched the thing up and shocked the hell out of it and tore out all of the fucking evil crud that had been blocking the flow of life. 

It is a terrifying, humbling thing to go to the bottom of the well and take a look around.  The bottom of the well is made of solid rock and it will kill you if it can.  It has that power because you have that power.  And when you are not in control of your own mind, and thus your own actions, there is a very good chance you will use that power.  I suspect that many people think they have reached the bottom of the well, but still have a long way to go.  If you can still float, you have not made it yet.  It you only think you have made it, you haven’t.  When you hit rock bottom, you will know it.  I knew it, instantly.  I had been on a full-speed expedition toward it for some time and I knew I was almost there for about three or four months.  The clues and markers were in plain sight and I knew it would probably kill me but I was a stubborn fucking pilgrim and I was not about to give up on my quest.  I knew that the only way I could truly change my life and my worldview was to slam into that rock bottom full-tilt boogie and see what the fucker had in store for me.  Well…it was damn ugly.  Damn ugly, indeed.  It felt like being stuck in some schizophrenic’s lucid dream about an evil carnival with only a giant Gravitron for a ride and some vacuous stumblebum jams you inside after force-feeding you half a bottle of vodka and six peyote buttons and says “Don’t come out ‘till ya shit through your eyeballs!” 

I don’t ever want to be at the bottom of the well, again, let alone ride a goddam Gravitron.  I know I’m having a bit of fun with this piece, but I want to be deadly clear; hitting Rock Bottom is not an experience I would wish on anyone.  It is the same Horror that Kurtz managed to blurt out as he lay dying, pathetically, on the steamboat in Heart of Darkness.  I have read that book many times and I’ve always thought, or suspected, that the Horror, about which he gasped, was actually the ultimate fulfillment of Kurtz’ self-loathing…an angry, violent, psychopathic descent into a self-generated insanity that could only end when he was completely emptied of anything human.  His soul died just before his body, leaving time only for those fateful last words.  Well…he got his wish, but, like I said, the Bottom of the Well will kill you if it can.  Kurtz knew he was at the bottom, but his madness was such that the Horror of the well brought him only relief instead of regret.  I was one of the fortunate ones, and my circumstances were providential.  I was categorically exhausted, mentally and physically, but I started to climb out with a little help from some really great friends, family, and God as I know Him.  And with that, I am done with this thing.

Off to bed…C

Broken Man 4

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Broken man part 4

Well I broke myself out of that place.  It was absolutely not as advertised.  I was not allowed to go outside.  No riding bikes…no running?  Not even just around the building?  Also the food was patently non-nutritious.  All processed crap full of sodium, sugar, fat, and more sodium.  My room was dirty and the beds were very uncomfortable.  So I left. 

I made a plan for the next few weeks.  I started AA tonight.  It was great!  I already met quite a few great people and actually volunteered to tell my story when it was time for that. 

I have been to meetings before but I was always full of trepidation when I got to the places in which the meetings were held.  It was because I knew that the people who really work the program are authentic…hones.  And back then I was still in the throes of working my “personas”, as I call them.  I created a persona to fit in to those meetings simply so I could get through them as easily as possible.  And it worked.  I talked the talk and walked the walk.  But I did not think the thoughts.  Because I was not authentic.  I was not open with my thoughts.  I compartmentalized all the pain inside me and walked out onto that stage as a trained actor.  I was filled with dread…real fear.  My life thus far has largely been defined and delineated by constant fear and anxiety.  And that fear was why I never took AA seriously.

But today was different.  Actually the last ten days have been completely different.  I don’t remember the last time I was this vulnerable and raw.  I know that I would normally only do that with Beth.  I have been that way with Beth…especially in the beginning.  So, anyway, I drove over there and walked straight in without any trace of fear.  I think it was God. 

I’m so tired.  I know this was not super interesting but I am trying to keep the blog up to date.  And this is the best I have at the moment.  More tomorrow.  I am feeling much better than ten days ago.  Much hope and my mind is clearing…remarkably.  I can think again. 

See ya—C

Broken Man 3

I have some Fantastic Friends. That is all today. 

Diary of a broken man--day two.

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Day two of the Journey of a Broken Man

A little better today.  Had a pretty shitty morning.  Super emotional and I really miss my wife.  No real physical symptoms today but the mental shit is pretty bad.  My head is clearing out pretty well though and the thinking is getting faster and more precise.  I don’t really know what to expect in this realm.  I suspect I’ll keep getting clearer as time goes on but I KNOW that means that the anxiety and guilt will become stronger.  I think this will get a lot worse before it gets better.  Still…haven’t had any substances for three days and that is the best I can hope for at this point.

Interesting that a few people reached out to me today.  I guess more people read my blog than I thought.  I didn’t share it on social media so I’m not sure how they found it.  But…i really don’t care either.  Those few people gave me a little more hope in the world and in people…friends.  For those pals:  Thank you.  Thank you mucho.  For a person like me, who has always tried very hard to just fit in…to be liked and respected…to just fit the fuck in!…well I guess that really just surprised me.  Surprised the hell out of me.  You see, I’ve never really trusted many people.  I can count on two hands the number of people I honest to God trust in this world.  I imagine that is a pretty shitty way to live your life.  But I always felt very vulnerable as a kid and I learned super early that the best way to not feel vulnerable is to build big, giant, mental walls that cannot be breached by conventional weapons.  I’ve put myself out there a few times in life and a lot of those times end up in disappointment for me.  

Jesus I sound like a bleeding heart wanker.  But I guess this experiment (the journal) in putting myself out there for realsies.  And since I do not even know who my authentic self is anymore, maybe this will help uncover that kid.  This is not a conventional weapon.  It is an attempt to blow up those walls to smithereens from the inside.  No one else can really do it—especially if I don’t want you to.  Hell, I don’t even know if I really like bike racing in an authentic way.  I suspect I do…but I don’t Really know.  I know I like riding my bike, though.  Of that I am quite certain.  That part goes way back to the Sunblest days.  Escaping the hell that was going on in my house with Curt and his bullshit by riding my BMX bike all over those early, unfinished neighborhoods in Fishers (back before Fishers became a soulless caricature of Carmel by ripping down every last remnant of a once charming small town and replacing it with a GODDAM IKEA and those fucking poser monstrosities they put all over the fucking town hall area).  Fuck you, Fishers, for taking my town from me.

Apologies to anyone who lives in Fishers if you find that rant offensive.  But I find Fishers offensive now and I don’t ever want to go back.  Not even though I owned a business there, either.  The whole place disgusts me.  Except Sunblest, and Cottingham (sp?) Estates, and old downtown, and anywhere else I had friends.  Which was not a lot of places because we only had about 8-10,000 people in the 1980s there.  

I guess I have some anger in me as well.  Probably a lot.  And I curse a lot.  I will probably always do that.  I find it extremely therapeutic.  Like punching and kicking, only with words.  Extremely useful!  Incidentally, that’s one of the reasons I LOVE Beth’s home town.  Largely unchanged since she was a kid there.  

But I am not doing this to be PC or even nice.  I am doing it to get all my shit out in the open.  So I will write what I feel like writing and if anyone is disgusted with me for it, well I guess that’s on them.  

So currently I am watching the World Road Race replay on the tele and holy shit what a great race.  What a finish.  And the women’s race…what a performance by our local hero, Chloe D.  Sublime ride in the TT and one helluva ride in the RR.  Devastating attacks.  In years to come, That chick is going to straight rip the souls out of her peers.  Pure Beast Mode.  Pure Killer Instinct.  Can’t teach that, folks.  A vicious killer in the style of Bernard Hinault and Genghis Khan.  Americans love that shit.

Okay I’m tired and I need some sleep.  I rode my own bike today and felt pretty good after about an hour…finally.  I’ve felt like shit on the bike for a while now.  Burned out.  Had a shitty race season.  I know that a lot of that was due to my substance abuse and lack of actual food intake.  Most days the past year I rarely ate anything before evening because the stimulant effect of the dope I was taking just made me not hungry.  It worked for a while, but it finally caught up to me, I think.  Incidentally I have been starving ass hungry from morning to night since I quit all that shit and have been eating everything in the house.  Which is not a lot due to the fact that if Beth does not do the shopping, I just eat whatever we have left until the fridge is nice and cleaned out…which is the way I like it.  Even when I was eating properly, my diet has always consisted of about ten total foods.  And most of those ten foods are pasta and cans of tuna…hahaha.  

Okay I’m done for today.  More tomorrow….  -C