Slow Boat To China

Trapped! It's a big boat, but not big enough to escape that big mouth that just goes on yappin' and rappin' about my miserable failure, my life. Now that bastard is on the P.A. yelling something about my whole existence being nothing more than a series of token efforts, just enough to get things patched up and marginally functioning, so that I can get my fat ass back in that recliner, a bag of chips and a cold beverage by my side. One of these days I swear to God, I am going to throw that SOB overboard!@#*!

I am Sorry Richard!

Yeah, so I was out riding when suddenly, out of nowhere, it occurs to me that I have some 'splainin' to do. If I refer to myself as you, it is because He is not listening. For you see, He is Me and You are He and We are all together. Occasionally the whole system goes a bit awry and We begin trying to make fun of others in an effort to get the focus off Us. So FRUITCAKE becomes a very bad choice made no doubt by very bad chemicals in Our brain. "I" hope this helps clear things up a bit and that "I" have not offended anyone. LIAR!

FRUIT CAKE !

Ya know, some day they probably will end up throwing a net over my head and haulin' me off to a padded cell. Out of nowhere I had a thought that went like this. If I go to google and type in the words, Fruit Cake, and then check images, I'll bet there will be a picture of Richard Simmons somewhere amongst them. Well folks, I was wrong. There were over 30 pages of images (of fruit cakes) but no Richard Simmons to be found. This chap was the closest thing I could find. Sorry.

Zen Saying...

"When you get to the bottom of the stack-- Keep shoveling."

Everything is Dharmatically Illuminated When You Are Climbing Up Cold mountain With The Man From La Mancha!

We were suddenly arrested by the thought of that old, semi-crippled man, essentially just sitting up there in the clouds, writing poetry. I thought to myself, I'll bet he would love a good vegetarian sausage. And so our journey began. Climbing up Cold mountain with a pack o' Smart Sausages.

Han-shan

My heart is like the autumn moon
perfectly bright in the deep green pool
nothing can compare with it
you tell me how it can be explained

Everything Is Illuminated (2005) Sort of...

Everything Is Illuminated (2005): "- Sent using Google Toolbar" Well after years of waiting for just the right moment, I finally felt that it was time to watch. I (of course) was joined with by my counter-part, Yevette. We had a lot of fun and it was just a lot of fun! If you want to have some fun, we both recommend that you watch this film.

I'm Good, Thank You.: Officious seeing eye bitch

I'm Good, Thank You.: Officious seeing eye bitch: "Click me to see what I am looking at Just got back from watching a sneak preview of 'Everything is Illuminated' and it is an awesome movi..."

Han-shan

(Cold Mountain)
(730? - 850?)

English version by
Red Pine

Original Language
Chinese

Buddhist : Zen / Chan
Taoist
8th Century

Someone lives in a mountain gorge
cloud robe and sunset tassels
holding sweet plants he would share
but the road is long and hard
burdened by regrets and doubts
old and unaccomplished
called by others crippled
he stands alone steadfast

Han-shan (Cold Mountain)

Clambering up the Cold Mountain path,
The Cold Mountain trail goes on and on:
The long gorge choked with scree and boulders,
The wide creek, the mist-blurred grass.
The moss is slippery, though there's been no rain
The pine sings, but there's no wind.
Who can leap the world's ties
And sit with me among the white clouds?

English version by Gary Snyder.

Desolation Peak

"And suddenly I saw the Northwest was a great deal more than the little vision I had of it of Japhy in my mind. It was miles and miles of unbelievable mountains grooking on all horizons in the wild broken clouds, Mount Olympus and Mount Baker, a giant orange sash in the gloom over the Pacific-ward skies that led I knew toward the Hokkaido Siberian desolations of the world. I huddled against the bridge-house hearing the Mark Twain talk of the skipper and the wheel-man inside. In the deepened dusk fog ahead the big red neons saying: PORT OF SEATTLE."

Shuffling Along The Road Of Life

Saw old man shuffling out of Costco yesterdee. Very old, leather moccasin footed. Audible shuffle, scuffing scruffily out into the hot bustling parking lot. Idiot brained, perhaps. Blank face stare, he's driving I wonder? Eve mentions that he's probably the perfect human lighting rod. Start to ask her what she means, then I burst out laughing.

The Short Reign of Pippin IV

The story is quite simple. Pippin is pressured by French political leaders in the year of 19-- to accept the crown of France because of his birthright. The poor fellow just wants to record cosmic showers and dwell in the peace of his family. Yet it is not so easy to reject the notion since he is told that France needs him, and who can ignore that? It seems a coincidence that all 42 political sections decide to support monarchy "for different reasons beneficial to" themselves. So Pippin and his family move into Versailles along with 200 penniless aristocrats. And that is where Pippin takes his role seriously as king much to the chagrin of the delegates (and his wife who feels left out and goes to Sister Hyacinthe for advice). In the few months of his rule, the king tries desperately to understand his subjects' conditions and to discern the relationships among power, corruption, and fear. Exactly how Pippin's reign ends in France is a worldly lesson to all on what "the good life" is. As Uncle Charlie warns Pippin,"When a pawn tries to do the work of the government--then the pawn is a fool."

Over Drive - Group Crash Scene

And Now, A Zen Moment

Master; "What is the meaning of bird?"
Student; "What bird?"
Master; "The bird of one's mind."
Student; "Go to Hell!"
Master; "Gosh!"
Student; "Yeah that's what I thought! You think anyone wants a round-house kick to the head while I'm wearin' these Bad Boys? I don't think so!"

Working Our Way Through France

Day 19; After narrowly escaping the clutches of an overly exuberant Saxon woman, we are back safely in the saddle working our way through France. Rocinante, my trusty steed, is holding up to the rigors of the long journey marvelously! All previous oaths of mine with regards to sending him to the Glue Factory, shall now be proclaimed null and void!

Through Thhe Wormhole

I'm not sure where my fear of German women stems from, but I know one thing, it is not getting any better. Just the other day I was telling a friend about the wonderful new mini-series on the Science Channel called, Through The Wormhole, with Morgan Freeman, when suddenly an older, Teutonic woman who over heard our conversation screamed out, "Tru Da Vermholen!" I began down that decades long inner path of fear and trembling as my friend started up an animated conversation with the lady. Soon, I simply could stand it no longer and had to abruptly excuse myself because as I said, "Somewhere, there is a kettle at full boil, I need a strong cuppa English Breakfast Tea!"

If I Were A Rich Man!

Meanwhile... Back at The Ranch

Lately, a discouragaing word has descended over the blue skies that blanket the Ponderosa. Some letter-writers, like the football players who administered the shears on him 15 years ago are distressed by Mike Landon, or Little Joe's, long hair. "There are people who write in, forgetting that 'Bonanza' is set in the Old West in the 1870's, and they ask is Little Joe some kind of hippie." Landon shakes his full-thatched head in wonderment. "They've got to be kidding--Ben Cartwright's son a hippie?"

Shadow Biosphere

A shadow biosphere is a postulated microbial biosphere of Earth that uses radically different biochemical and molecular processes than currently known life. While life on Earth is relatively well-studied, the shadow biosphere may still remain unnoticed because our exploration targets our biochemistry primarily.

Benner, Ricardo and Carrigan argue that, if organisms based on RNA have once existed, they may still be alive today, unnoticed because they don't contain ribosomes, which are usually used to detect living organisms. They suggest searching for them in environments that are low in sulphur, that are spatially constrained (for example, minerals with pores smaller than one micrometre), or that cycle between extreme hot and cold.

Other proposed denizens of the shadow biosphere include organisms with chirality opposite of ours, that use some of the non-standard amino acids, or that use arsenic instead of phosphorus.

That Seventy's Look

Hello and welcome back! We are sincerely excited about our latest project, one that we are not entirely able to share the details of, yet. Stay tuned all Summer long as our new program director has many new ideas and of course, lots of giveaways!

So Long and Thanks for all the Fish

Underground Doings

You, dear reader, may occasionally feel that there is something afoot (within this big old world you live in) that you are just missing, by a razor's width. You get the news of great events or happenings, one day late. You catch a fleeting glimpse of a bicycle that may or may not have been an Iver Johnson hand-built. You hear stories of pro teams stopping by a local tavern, handing out swag and goodies. You my friend are not paranoid, these things are out there. Stay thirsty my friends!

The Wolf

Some are born to move the world
To live their fantasies
But most of us just dream about
The things we'd like to be
Sadder still to watch it die
Than never to have known it
For you, the blind who once could see
The bell tolls for thee... RUSH

A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing

Last winter while attending one of our local Ride-On cyclocross races, I was talking with a couple of my old Red Bluff buddies.We were discussing something we dubbed "The Funky Factor" in the sport. We agreed that although any form of participation in the race is fantastic, a certain little flair for the retro is always extremely cool. Especially when a steel-framed, army-booted, wool-clad individual actually ends up, high in the finishing order. I mentioned that I have witnessed instances where a retro steel, road bike guy shows up to a group ride of carbon fiber, spandex-clad, shaved-down elitists and ends up handing out some serious hurt to the group.
Well one thing led to another, we decided to embark on a project we called, The Wolf. We would build a bike that for all intents and purposes looked like an old fender-ed and chain guarded 3-speed, but with a few little tricks. Titanium frame and fork (Desalvo), Nexus 7-speed internal gear hub, 700c wheels with Continental 28c Ultrasport tires, three piece crank, aluminum mustache bars, plastic fenders and chain guard.

Deep Purple - Highway Star

Comment Moderation

Captain Lookout’s Wrecking Crew

presents:


BICYCLE
SWAP & SELL


Sunday, October 25, 2009

Noon - 4:00 (or later?)

Carpet Mart, 905 Locust Street, Redding



NO ADMISSION OR COMMISSION FEES!



for more information, please call Jim

246-0203 (days)
221-2028 (eves)

The Search For the Ivory-Billed Woodpecker

SanFranCup recalled, "On the second day of our trip, at approximately 1:15 in the afternoon, a large black-and-white woodpecker with the characteristic color pattern of an Ivory-billed Woodpecker flew across the bayou at close range in front of Bojangels and me. We cried out simultaneously, 'Ivory-bill!' and paddled frantically toward shore. As soon as we landed, we took off through the boot-sucking muck and mire of the swamp, climbing up and over fallen trees and through branches, with camcorder in hand and running. Although the bird landed on tree trunks briefly a couple of times, we weren't able to catch up with it or take video."

Jim Swift and His Electic Gun

The story opens with Jim daydreaming of African Safaris while test-firing his new Electric Rifle. It works too well and toasts a hole in his neighbor's dining room wall, prompting an outraged visit from the toastee-in-question. A quick application of cash settles ruffled feathers, and some unspecified safety features are added to the weapon, to prevent a recurrence of the accident. As luck would have it, a famous African Safari Master is in town, shopping for a new big game rifle. He hooks up with Jim and a new custom-built airship, the Black Hawk, is designed & constructed. Jim, Noel, Mr. SanFranCup and the hunter, Mr. Bojangles, are off to the Dark Continent via steamship, in search of ivory and adventure.

Snuffy Smith

When Barney Google's adventures took him deep into the Kentucky hills to escape the law, he met Snuffy Smith, a bodacious hillbilly who soon eclipsed him in popularity. At one time the premier moonshiner of Hootin' Holler mountain, this card-playin', hammock-swayin', shotgun-sprayin' varmint made the headlines when he vowed to give up his still forever. We'll just see about that.

You say Manpris, I say Shants

That's right folks! What ever you call 'em, they're Hip, they're Slick and they're COOL! But did you ever stop to think about the practical aspect of them as well? Just imagine what would happen if your pant cuff were to ever get tangled up in a fixed-gear drive train. Too horrible to even think of. But we won't let that keep us from tellin' y'all a little story. From, Once upon a mattress. Dauntless: …Stop, look and listen.
…Boy …Flower …Girl …Flower Boy flower, girl flower.
Oh, tell me more, I want to know what getting married is for.
…Seed …fall …from girl flower.
…And by and by …baby flower …grow.
Ah, but why?
Oh, tell me why.
Oh tell me, tell me, father, father don't be shy.
…Boy flower, …girl flower …love each other.
…Boy flower father
…Girl flower mother.
Yes, yes, but how?
It's very interesting, but how?
Oh tell me now.

Booker T & the M G 's - Green Onions (Original / HQ audio)

Meanwhile Back in Shangri La...

The High Lama was a wizened old man who was very polite and spoke perfect English. As they began a tea ceremony, I confessed that I had lived in China for a few years (a fact I had not shared with any of my fellow Web-Footers). According to custom, we chatted only in small talk until the tea bowls are taken away......

Bearing Life

As bearings rotate under load the components see material fatigue. The basic life formula, also know as the L10 life formula is used to calculate the number of revolutions before a failure occurs. Life can vary considerably, it is affected by many variables that the formulas cannot account for. The formulas are simply a guideline and should no be relied upon for critical applications.
Basic Bearing Life
L10=(Cr/P)3 • 106 Revolutions
L10h=500 • f3h fh=fn • (Cr/P), fh=(33.3/n)1/3
L10=Basic rating life
Cr=Basic dynamic load rating(kgf)
n=R.P.M.
fn=Speed factor L10h=Basic rating life in hours
P=Equivalent load(kgf)
fh=Life factor

Life equation for Ceramic Bearings
L=aCL • aCM (Cr/P)3
Lubrication CL Bearing type a CM
Oil or Grease 1 Hybrid 4
Full ceramic 1
Water 0.02 Hybrid 0.1
Full ceramic 1

L= Basic rating life (90% reliability life), 106 revolutions
Cr= Basic dynamic load rating of steel bearing of same size, N
P: Dynamic equivalent load, N
aCL : Lubrication coefficient
aCM : Material coefficient

Dishing Mr. B's Wheel

It would be an impertinence for anyone other than a bike mechanic to attempt to describe in detail, the work that goes to the making of a wheel. Every part has been perfected for its exact use, by generations of craftsmen working directly for the men who were to use it. I was staying in a cottage in the north of England. I had first met an old wheelwright as I was coming home with a drawing in my hand. He looked at my sketch and said “That's Mr. B's wheel!" He told me he paid nineteen pound ten shillings for a new body to it, just before he came here; and thats thirty years ago.

Brokeback Axle

Have you ever broken a rear axle? How many ? and why do you think it broke? Ive busted 4 in my cycling life (since 8 years old). I think its mostly from using too high a gear and don't usually find out it's broken till I go to remove the rear wheel for something else like a flat tire.
I broke a Campy Record rear axle years ago. It broke cleanly at the cone threads. The quick-release skewer held everything together, but the wheel wobbled badly. There was no thought of riding it back to the car/home; The wheel rubbed the brakes and the chain stays badly.
I believe the cause was from routine abuse during racing/training such as jumping railroad tracks and slamming potholes, etc.

Crossed Wires

The next day I met a former academic friend with whom I had often discussed Indian mythology, and he invited me to his home. While there, I was disgusted by the nationalistic mentality of my friend, who (inadvertently I suppose) criticized a column written by me. Then I criticized a painting he had done of Goethe, claiming it was too thickly sentimental and insulting to Goethe's true brilliance, reassuring the proposition that I am, and will always be, a stranger to this society.

Journey to Bangkok; Epilogue

Years later, I try to write this story of the Journey, even though I've lost contact with the group and I am fairly certain that the League no longer even exists. But I am unable to put together any coherent account of it; my whole life has sunk into despair and disillusionment since the failure of the one thing which was most important to me, and I've even sold the violin with which I once offered music to the group during the journey. Recently, at the advice of a friend, I found Slovko after having failed in my attempt to re-establish communication with him. At first I wasn't even recognized by him when I met him on a park bench, I wrote him a long, impassioned letter of "grievances, remorse and entreaty" and posted it to him that night. The rest is history as they say.

Day 19; On Our Way To Bangkok

Upon entering a deep mountain gorge called Morbio Inferiore, we realized that our beloved Slovko had gone missing. Slowly we are all realizing that it was he, that happy, pleasant, handsome man, who was acting as the glue of this rather dismal group of journeyers. Now that he is gone, many of the group are finding that articles of import are also missing. For me it is the very mission statement that we are all allegedly sworn to and a list of the chain of command.

We're on our way to Bangkok

Finally my magic carpet is ready to roll!
Our first stop is in Bogota
To check Colombian fields
The natives smile and pass along
A sample of their yield
Sweet Jamaican pipe dreams
Golden Acapulco nights
Then Morocco, and the East,
Fly by morning light

Island of Dr Moreau (1996)

Brain Damage; Epilogue

My dad then began calmly describing to Ray what would happen if he ever saw him touch any woman or child like that again. Then, he nonchalantly flipped the saw open and with a slashing motion, cut Ray's tie off. I thought a real nice touch Dad added was to attach the tie to the aerial of his car, where it flew like a flag for at least a year after the incident.

Brain Damage; Quattro

The door knob twisted, opening a crack, revealing Ray's face and a chain latch. Ray said something about not wanting any trouble. My dad calmly assured him that he was already deep in it. Suddenly my dad's hand exploded through the gap in the door. Like a striking snake, it bit and pulled back with Ray's necktie in it. My dad pulled hard on the tie and the sound of Ray's head knocking on the door jamb was heard.

Brain Damage; Three

My Dad was right on Ray's heels, carrying a folding pruning saw, he yelled at Ray to STOP! Ray's front door slammed shut. My dad arrived only seconds later, screaming oaths of Ray's general cowardice, pounding on the door with his fists. A timid voice rang out from inside the house, "Who is it?" My dad yelled something about get your skinny, yellow ass out here right now!

Brain Damage; Continued

One day, my dad was driving up the street we lived on, following a tough day at work. As he rounded the last curve before arriving home, he beheld a most disturbing sight. The madman Ray, had my brother in a firm grasp (one ear in each hand) and was attempting to beat his head against a telephone pole. When Ray saw my dad, he quickly released my brother and high-tailed it for his house.

Brain Damage

This is the story of one, Ray P. An hysterical lunatic of a man, his ranting and ravings rang throughout the neighborhood all hours of the day and night. His threats and terrors were mainly projected upon his wife and children in the form of verbal abuses, which he delivered in a voice range that resembled a woman's screaming.

Guns of Navarone

Goot Morn-ink!

Was taking out trash, to put in in-seen-a-rator and found other peecture of Slovko, laying een dirt. Not Slavko laying in dirt, Peecture of Slovko. Anywho, was beeg excitement to see heem on T.V soon. It youst goes to show, jew nayver can tell!

Slavko Zgonjanin

About Me:
painter, ceramist, sculptor, teacher....
I started to paint early in life. After attending a school for applied art, started my professional work as a painter and graphic designer. Discovering great joy in sculpture and ceramic creations made my work wide open in mediums, styles and techniques.
I am painting what i like, my thoughts, my visions, my dreams, places in my memory, feelings, that's the freedom of my life and work. All of my work fits in my concept of creative art. I never had a wish for narrow aspect in paintings and specializing in it. Variety, experimenting with different styles and techniques are deep inside of my being. Difference is what make life interesting.
Emotional and spiritual connection between beauty temptations in my inner mind and my heartfelt emotions, create freely in a variety of mediums, challenges for mind and eye.
When I first met Jeemy, he was leetle boy, maybe nine yeers old. Now, just luke at what fine young man he eez.

Test For Echo

I was out half the night looking for the idiot Slovko. My last communication with him was on his dying cell phone which is not formatted to the western world's telecommunication technology. It was around 7 pm when I got the call. "Jeemy! I tink I bray-keyed all-a-da fingers een my foot! Am layin' een deetch out by Shasta Dam!" Long story short, we found him. Drinking and singing Ukranian folk songs 'round a warm campfire of ATV people. His foot is just fine.

Sometimes, You Must Fight For Every Eench!

announcements@neilpeart.net

Slavko's Back In Town!

Early Saturday morning I was abruptly awakened to the sound of a bicycle bell ringing. Then I heard a deep voice yelling, "Jeemie ees Slovko, Geet up you weemp! Ees time to ride bi-seek-els!" I lay there in my warm bed thinking to myself. Oh please, not today. But it was 7 am so I cracked open my front door and told him I would be down at CM at 8 am and to meet me there. An hour later I arrived at CM, there he was, sitting in front of the shop. He jumped up and yelled, "We have beeg party tonight com-pleet weeth sauna and birch-branch beat-ink!" Here we go!

Insane Tankslap Recovery

For those of you who are not familiar with the term "Tank Slapper" here is a perfect illustration of it. This must be what I looked like last night as I crossed the Sundial Bridge on my bike in the wet conditions. As I rolled across the bridge, I tried to move to the left. Suddenly my handlebars crossed up, yet I continued moving forward, in a straight line. Thanks to a bit of deft maneuvering and a lot of luck, I didn't go down. I did however provide a Japanese family with some entertainment and hopefully many happy memories. That's just the kind of guy I am.

Tai Shan by Rush

“High on the sacred mountain… Up the seven thousand stairs… In the golden light of autumn… There was magic in the air.”
The Dharma bums - Google Books

Great Bike Travellers #1: Frank van Rijn, pt 2 of 2 // BROOKS ENGLAND

Counterparts... Your Choice!

"Behold Sancho," Said Don Quixote. "I swear likewise that Thou hast the shallowest brain that any squire ever had in the world. Is it possible that in all the time you have gone about with me, you do not perceive that all matters relating to Knights-Errant appear chimeras, follies and extravagances, and seem all done by the rule of contraries?"