Category Archives: Lifes Little Pieces

Friday

  • he invented reasons not to ride for six weeks so a bellicose three kilograms made its unwelcome way like a slivered splinter under your fingernail. One morning, unexpecedtly in a cupboard, he found ways to ride and for three weeks those three kilograms has announced its belligerent desire to remain encamped.
  • writing is a thinking in situ where words and ideas do a strange and odd dance of push, shove, seduction and swoon. As I neared the end of writing 1800 words I realised it was about the wrong thing, occasioning an odd mix of elation and frustration, tempered harshly by the alacrity of the deadline.
  • crackle and slide of gravel as the tyre finds its way, soft hands and souplesse

Thursday

  • spewing out words in a tumbled jumbled farrago that is somewhere between stream of consciousness and scholarly
  • cycling in fog is insouciant joy
  • pissing while freewheeling in le tour, rolling past people standing at the roadside

Wednesday

  • I wrote and it wasn’t any better.
  • 4° is cold for this part of the world with our British inherited insipid domestic architecture of draughty doors, single glazing and insulation as afterthought.
  • how to explain to child that ‘course’ sounds right written as ‘corse’, but it’s rong, or why ‘once’ is spelt as if it is trying to say ‘onsee’ when shouldn’t it be wonce?

Tuesday

  • I don’t much like the lecture today. Borrowed from a conference and little prep as some sad serious preliminaries left little time room or emotional and cognitive space to craft it into anything other than a motley failed soufflé.
  • trains offer a useful interstitial duration
  • I don’t know what to do

Monday

  • remain excited enthralled bemused enchanted by seeing eastern grey kangaroos in Heidelberg, a hop step and jump from a busy arterial road.
  • note to others who insist on playing ‘commuter cup’. If you pass me going downhill because you’re pushing a stupid big gear I am very confident of passing you if the road ever goes up.
  • note to those in a Tour de France bubble. Observe a pro’s cadence. See that? Pushing too big a gear, slowly, doesn’t make you faster or stronger. It will fuck your knees.