Posted by mattcrane | Filed under Uncategorized
From the window outside the room where I sit and write this, I can see the trees of my front garden and those of my neighbors, and when I last sat down to blog, they would have been the colors of a Peruvian loom, and I would have been in another country, an ocean away in distance and seemingly, in time. As is, the trees are now the color of a NYC street puddle, with perhaps a tinge of reflection from a shop displaying brightly colored South American clothing.
However, my absence has not been from neglect, but from low productive energy. Just as in all things I do, I’m either feeling it and doing it, or I’m not “feeling it,” and am doing “it” poorly. In either case, panhandling for words in the streams of my inner workings has yielded little profit until today, but happily vocabulary and grammar once again line the pockets of my imagination. Or perhaps I’m using an inappropriate metaphor, as I don’t like to believe that anything within me would be so out of my control that I would require reverting to wading in a proverbial stream to get that which I require from myself. In either case, I’ve had writer’s block, and now I don’t, hooray.
But in which direction to point my newly polished cannons of literary libido? Towards the direction of Myknee, a much fired upon, and unless you are an inhabitant, boring land that is slowly mending itself with the expert help and charitable assistance of Elite Physical Therapy in Dacula, Georgia with a sister location in Bogart? Perhaps a slight salvo: Knee is doing very well, tendinitis at hamstring attachment points, electro stim therapy is fantastic, physio exercises hurt in a way that makes me laugh, and why haven’t I been using a foam roller all these years?
So thats that, just riding, mending, transitioning to training. In the meantime, I really don’t have much to report, at least nothing that would be suitable fodder for public dissemination. I’ve been reading a lot, which is um, not a change from anything, and now have a much stronger, if less warm and fuzzy, ego after reading The Fountainhead. Loved the whole thing, and will be back for more on objectivism, but I’ve got to say that if one were to leave Rand’s philosophy undiluted, then one would be, um, a prick. So I’m trying not to be one of those, but in the spirit of the whole thing, I don’t really mind if you think I am one. Because I know for a fact that I am far more of a tactless fool than anything else.
Well, it IS Saturday after all (the favorite of any Dionysian), and there’s a good, cheap Thai place with Sapporo on draught and glasses that qualify as imperial pints, so I’ll be there if you’re looking for me (there is here; here is Athens). And then perhaps to the Belgian bar with the mind numbing, groin tingling tap list, and plenty of other cycling nerds to enjoy it with. Past that? I don’t kiss and tell, but I’m drinking a cup of coffee for a reason.
I’ll be back with an entry that has a theme, or perhaps purpose, in a short while. Know by now that most assurances for punctuality coming from me contain hooks, leaving them extra likely to get bogged down in the fleecy interiors of my neurological pathways.
Thanks for reading, although I can’t imagine why you came this far. Don’t you have a family or at least a favorite television program to spend time with?
Later On,
Crane
