I am sad to say it but this blog is dead. It stinks and it irritates my nose.
Of me there is not much to say. Not like nothing has happened in my life, events just don't register on my richter scale as events just as a faint murmurs of life as usual. Life just happens to me like a slow moving glacier, unstoppable non moving unshakable fate approaching.
I guess I will link to this page if I will venture forth with another blog. But don't count on it.
Friday, January 02, 2009
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Lucas Brunelle ( again?! )
Ok this is going to be a cheap one.
I introduced Lucas Brunelle on my dead Icelandic blog before the era of our oh-so wonderful youtube and the embedded video. But now, obviously, the times have changed.
Lucas being a former New York city bike messenger has become known after publishing a few of his videos on his homepage. Some would no doubt define them as mad, crazy or daredevil; others ( me included ) find them to be flowers in bloom, life and the lust for it. To the uninitiated ( read: non-cyclist or someone unfamiliar to urban cycling ) occasional maneuvers may appear haphazard or uncalculated. Up to a point that conclusion can be justified even though it is far from the whole truth. Weaving through traffic requires a level of spontaneity unencompassed by any given set of rules. With experience and technique these spontaneous acts can be performed with a level of high control and confidence. However, if you want to last doing things like these you need a cool head that some of these guys seem sadly to be lacking. A good rule of thumb is not putting your life on the line for a stunt that you know will fail one time out of ten.
Sun is shining. A good day for a ride ( bike race ) through the hilly streets of San Francisco.
One chilly day in New York, a bunch of messengers have the time of their life, racing in traffic.
Lucas taking calculated risks on a mexican highway. Notice that he gets off when the traffic pics up speed.
Another courier race in a big city.
I introduced Lucas Brunelle on my dead Icelandic blog before the era of our oh-so wonderful youtube and the embedded video. But now, obviously, the times have changed.
Lucas being a former New York city bike messenger has become known after publishing a few of his videos on his homepage. Some would no doubt define them as mad, crazy or daredevil; others ( me included ) find them to be flowers in bloom, life and the lust for it. To the uninitiated ( read: non-cyclist or someone unfamiliar to urban cycling ) occasional maneuvers may appear haphazard or uncalculated. Up to a point that conclusion can be justified even though it is far from the whole truth. Weaving through traffic requires a level of spontaneity unencompassed by any given set of rules. With experience and technique these spontaneous acts can be performed with a level of high control and confidence. However, if you want to last doing things like these you need a cool head that some of these guys seem sadly to be lacking. A good rule of thumb is not putting your life on the line for a stunt that you know will fail one time out of ten.
SAN FRAN
Sun is shining. A good day for a ride ( bike race ) through the hilly streets of San Francisco.
DRAG RACE NYC
One chilly day in New York, a bunch of messengers have the time of their life, racing in traffic.
MEXICAN HIGHWAY
Lucas taking calculated risks on a mexican highway. Notice that he gets off when the traffic pics up speed.
LONDON CALLING
Another courier race in a big city.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Like heroin
The Smiths – How Soon Is Now?
Starting a new blog is a bit like the rubbing together of two moist sticks, hoping for fire. So vanquish hopes of a spectacular fire, and you hopefuls, squint your eyes in anticipation of a puff of smoke. The rest can try to make out the spark.
I've endeavored a few times now to commence the spitting of words. Having no great luck, I'm now reporting a problem. Shocked beyond words ( pun intended ), thinking it would never happen to me, I suspect myself to be lacking in the field of emoition. No, I accuse myself! My eyes once wide, blue and open; now squinted, and shiftily looking for a mean to an end. Dreams have passed and the vacuum left behind has now been invaided and overtaken by a thinking oriented with goals. Sky once boiling with clouds is now staring back at me with a stark blue unblinking eye. Making writing a bit uninspired. I being me, however, a weather in the distant sky might just happen to be a storm.
My heart has caught the rot. A shade of black, a veil of sensibility, covers my naked heart. Old age brings a thickness. A sensibility. The unmistakable odor of death and dying that starts creeping into your nostrils as you get closer to thirty. A tint of pragmatism seeping out over the vistas, and the reflexive stroke of the chin is initiated, as you gaze vacantly.
Getting drunk reminded me of something I had not forgotten. The pointlessness of the worldly. Downtown we are moving to the sound of thunder just waiting for the light to hit us. And while moving to the beat, watching blurred images of people moving and waiting, nothing happened. Clubs are containers of mistaken anticipation. The product on sale is a misplaced hope, in that something will actually happen. But it never does.
My salvation is my bicycle. - Why? - How? - Well, someone once put it rather nicely: Remember those dreams when you dream you are flying? Thats cycling to me. - And he's right. It's exactly that feeling you get from cycling. Nothing brings life and living closer to you, not getting drunk, not going to a party, not having sex; nothing comes close to a good ride. Something you have to try out for yourself to 'get'. Just like heroin. You just have to shoot-up a lot more to get hooked. But then you will never be the same.
Due to errors of the technical kind, this text appears one and a half month late. Not for the sake of good taste but rather for the sake of completeness I leave this for others to see.
Starting a new blog is a bit like the rubbing together of two moist sticks, hoping for fire. So vanquish hopes of a spectacular fire, and you hopefuls, squint your eyes in anticipation of a puff of smoke. The rest can try to make out the spark.
I've endeavored a few times now to commence the spitting of words. Having no great luck, I'm now reporting a problem. Shocked beyond words ( pun intended ), thinking it would never happen to me, I suspect myself to be lacking in the field of emoition. No, I accuse myself! My eyes once wide, blue and open; now squinted, and shiftily looking for a mean to an end. Dreams have passed and the vacuum left behind has now been invaided and overtaken by a thinking oriented with goals. Sky once boiling with clouds is now staring back at me with a stark blue unblinking eye. Making writing a bit uninspired. I being me, however, a weather in the distant sky might just happen to be a storm.
My heart has caught the rot. A shade of black, a veil of sensibility, covers my naked heart. Old age brings a thickness. A sensibility. The unmistakable odor of death and dying that starts creeping into your nostrils as you get closer to thirty. A tint of pragmatism seeping out over the vistas, and the reflexive stroke of the chin is initiated, as you gaze vacantly.
Getting drunk reminded me of something I had not forgotten. The pointlessness of the worldly. Downtown we are moving to the sound of thunder just waiting for the light to hit us. And while moving to the beat, watching blurred images of people moving and waiting, nothing happened. Clubs are containers of mistaken anticipation. The product on sale is a misplaced hope, in that something will actually happen. But it never does.
My salvation is my bicycle. - Why? - How? - Well, someone once put it rather nicely: Remember those dreams when you dream you are flying? Thats cycling to me. - And he's right. It's exactly that feeling you get from cycling. Nothing brings life and living closer to you, not getting drunk, not going to a party, not having sex; nothing comes close to a good ride. Something you have to try out for yourself to 'get'. Just like heroin. You just have to shoot-up a lot more to get hooked. But then you will never be the same.
Due to errors of the technical kind, this text appears one and a half month late. Not for the sake of good taste but rather for the sake of completeness I leave this for others to see.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
It's time.
It's time!
Time for another blog. Why on earth?! Well, I have no excuse what so ever. I can't help it, I'm just THAT evil. Atleast evil enough to bring another blog into this world. Shame on me! Shame on you! Shame on us! What ever.
So...? What should I put in a blog? My life is generally kind of boring and uneventful, so what could a geek like me possibly have to say about anything?! Well not much I guess. But some guy once said: "It's not so much WHAT you write. It's HOW you write it." Actually this guy was me. But who cares about the small print.
I had this esoteric icelandic blog, virtually unknown, save for a handful of select people. How ever I got bored with it and killed it off. Now all my texts and hours of writing have gone the whay we will all go in the end. Yes, very dramatic. - So now I guess I'm now in the mood to blog again. Anyways I seem to be doing it again. So lets see what god awful things I will put in print this time around.
I'm a cycling fanatic. So I will be writing about that. It will happen! Sorry, I can't help it. In addition, I'm afraid I am a sort of an existential freak. So I will probably freak out a few times, and write silly things about being here and not there, being alive and not dead, being conscious and not unconscious; I have been known to be an absolutly impossible man on occasion. So don't say I did not warn you. Actually I have only one rule; there is no rule. Not very original I know. But it suits me.
Ah!? The twist. Yes, Im writing all these silly things in english. How absolutly silly of me. It's true, I am silly. - Get over it.
Time for another blog. Why on earth?! Well, I have no excuse what so ever. I can't help it, I'm just THAT evil. Atleast evil enough to bring another blog into this world. Shame on me! Shame on you! Shame on us! What ever.
So...? What should I put in a blog? My life is generally kind of boring and uneventful, so what could a geek like me possibly have to say about anything?! Well not much I guess. But some guy once said: "It's not so much WHAT you write. It's HOW you write it." Actually this guy was me. But who cares about the small print.
I had this esoteric icelandic blog, virtually unknown, save for a handful of select people. How ever I got bored with it and killed it off. Now all my texts and hours of writing have gone the whay we will all go in the end. Yes, very dramatic. - So now I guess I'm now in the mood to blog again. Anyways I seem to be doing it again. So lets see what god awful things I will put in print this time around.
I'm a cycling fanatic. So I will be writing about that. It will happen! Sorry, I can't help it. In addition, I'm afraid I am a sort of an existential freak. So I will probably freak out a few times, and write silly things about being here and not there, being alive and not dead, being conscious and not unconscious; I have been known to be an absolutly impossible man on occasion. So don't say I did not warn you. Actually I have only one rule; there is no rule. Not very original I know. But it suits me.
Ah!? The twist. Yes, Im writing all these silly things in english. How absolutly silly of me. It's true, I am silly. - Get over it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
