(Click the photo for the rest!)
DANCEiSM was a blast! As an event, it is really starting to come into its own. It was downright epic and everyone seemed to be feeling the love.
P.S. I love Ben and Richmond. If you don't know these guys, you should. Their kindness is an inspiration and their presence is a joy.
On Saturday I made the Santa Monica bike shop circuit, although it looks like I am going to opt for a used road bike. Rode a Specialized Dolce that was a dream. I'm hooked and I am closer than ever to owning my second bike! There is nothing else in the world I can research as obsessively as I have been researching bicycles lately. My father - a renewed bike geek - and I have been exchanging giddy emails over various components and options, and I learned that my mom used to ride a Shwinn while she was pregnant with me. So I guess you can say my first bike was a Schwinn....
Apples don't fall far from the tree.
Later that day I rode out to Culver City and celebrated the weekend with friends. Spent the night and then rode home on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon. With bikes on the brain, I was inspired to write the following. Enjoy!
One night I was mad that this guy I liked ditched me, so I scarfed down the shrooms that had been sitting in my cupboard for a month. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
Wheeling around my apartment, listening to vinyl and alternating between moments of euphoria and moments of terror, I came up on the drugs. It didn't take long for them to get on top of me and before I knew it I "was there."
It started out with the crumpled bedsheets slowly coming to life, exhaling and inhaling with the rhythm of the world. "Now we're getting somewhere," I said out loud. It was my habit to voice my inner monologue.
It didn't take long for my bicycle to come to life. The Gary Fisher mountain bike had not been my choice, it was the bike I received when I needed a bike. It was blue with a grey logo, and I sort of hated it, but only as much as I loved it, which was a lot. Neither the couple of spoke cards jammed into the wheels nor the quirky key chains affixed to the saddle could make it "cool." It was a hideously uncool bike, beloved as it was, and I had been cheating on it with various sexy little road bikes from different sexy little bike shops.
It turned to me suddenly, accusingly, and cried, "I know what you've been up to Liz!"
I jumped back. "What are you talking about?" Deny deny deny!
"You think I don't notice? You think I didn't notice when you locked me up outside of I Martin and rode off on that Trek? DID YOU THINK I DIDN'T SEE THAT?"
Panic! "Listen, it's not what it looked like...."
The bike choked back a sob. "After all I've done for you...the time we've spent together...."
In times like these, crying was my only defense. It softened the heart of the discarded and scorned. I let one strategic tear drop fall. "You know I love you, bicycle! You're my first love, you're my true love!"
"Then what about that Specialized? And that KHS? And that Fugi? And that Giant?" He got worked up. "What about that piece of garbage Bianchi?!" The white used Bianchi for $200 put him over. He started bawling. The bicycle started bawling. "You know that Bianchi's been everywhere, everyone's ridden her!"
"Listen Gary, listen. Those bicycles, they don't mean anything. I still come home to you every night!"
"When was the last time you even greased me!" he wailed, "My chain is rusted Liz! My tires are flat! I'm a bicycle, I have needs too!"
I was cornered. And on drugs. It made me a little mad. "Well, this is just great. You know, I'm trying to have a little trip here and you decide to bring this up. Your timing is shit, like that time your chain got all undone, in front of everyone. And remember that other time when you just sort of fell over? For no reason?"
When attacked, the bike retreated into a pout. "Well maybe if you knew how to take a turn, that fall wouldn't have happened."
"Don't start that with me Gary!" I was screaming, I was sure the neighbors heard me. "Don't fucking start this with me! I'm just trying to have a nice little trip here AND YOU HAVE TO GO FUCK IT UP!"
Now it was his turn to use the waterworks on me. He shook as he held back tears, letting loose one frail gasp. He backed away into a corner, turning away from me. It worked, of course. A whimper would escape him and my heart would split into two.
"Gary Gary Gary...oh Gary. Listen babe, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." I embraced the bicycle and he leaned into me, a frail weeping flower.
"I just wish we could be like old times. Like the good old days, Liz, when we used to take long rides out to Venice together. It was nothing but you, me, and the wind on our heels. We were so free. We were so young. What's happened to us?"
"I don't know. I'm sorry Gary. I won't look at anymore road bikes, you're the one I love." Of course I didn't mean it.
We held each other for a time. I watched the walls melt. The record had long since stopped, there was only the sound of the speakers buzzing.
"Hey Gary, how about we go for a ride. Right now, a little night ride."
He brightened. "Really?"
"Yeah, maybe go down to the park, hang out, smoke a jay."
"Oh Liz!"
"Yeah, let's go do that. Just you and me and the moonlight."
He jumped up like an excited pony and began prancing around the apartment. "Oh Liz, it'll be so romantic!"
I said under my breath, "And cold as fuck."
"What was that?"
"Nothing, honey." I caressed his handlebars. I took extra special care when pumping up his tires. I gave the chain a little lube. I even realigned the rear wheel, which always seemed to fall out of place and rub against the brake shoe. The bike shuddered with delight.
Putting my helmet on, I took us outside. I climbed up onto the seat and the bike breathed a small sigh of pleasure.
At four in the morning, the residential streets opened up wide and quiet before us. As I rode the colors shifted and the wind hummed secretively in my ears.
I wouldn't really recommend riding your bicycle around at four in the morning with your head coming undone, but sometimes you do crazy things for love.
Writing March 2 2009
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1 comment:
So your bike talks to you? And you talk to it? WHEW!!! For a moment there I thought I was the only person alive carrying on a dialogue with my two-wheeled steed. Although truth be told, my own conversations were a bit one-sided. See, my bike is Italian and "Lo no parlo Italiano" so we had something of a communication gap. Liz, good story. I enjoyed it. Grazie!
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