From the Grave of William Penn-The Quaker in Me Paper:

For the past few weeks there's been something new happening at various locations along the light rail and other spaces of Charlotte's inner ring. The last time The Department of Homeland Security and a contract openly patrolled familiar streets and pathways downtown was during the 2012 DNC. Above you will see the four person team that walked up into my vision early yesterday afternoon whilst I was taking the time to continue reading an amazing book about the life and death of JFK over a mug of batch brew from Not Just Coffee outside the 7th Street Public Market.

Seems as if this similar scene has happened in front of my eyes four times over the last three weeks. Noticing the cargo khakis and desert combat boot combo is just the beginning. These pro-force shooters are carrying what appeared to be no fewer than two pistols. High Caliber. On their belts were  multiple magazines in the mag pouches. The operator on the far right out of view (except for his legs) had an extra large red beard to match the extra large combat mag pouch kit on his front belt harness. It looked weighty. And authentic. Like it could tell a story to someone about what it's like to be in combat in a far away mountainous place from the perspective of an extra large magazine pouch. Fighting the urge to touch it as I scanned it from a few feet away, my mind calculated that there were at least twenty pistol mags in it. Calculations.

Each were wearing a bulletproof vest over their dark shirts and jackets. It only seems proper that if you are going out that locked and loaded you'd have to wear protection. And of course the dark baseball caps finish off the military light ensemble with a certain flair of fitting in with the backdrop of our fair city in the form of acceptance. Subtle.

They stood on post for ten minutes or so before the CMPD Lt. liaison verbally suggested that it was time to continue and motioned with his hand for the men and woman to move out towards the south going down the light rail path on the western side of the tracks. The guy with the big beard and combat veteran magazine pouch leaned in and said something to the group that from my perspective couldn't be made out. But it was funny, the girl laughed audibly and the group stepped off all smiles. It was a light moment that immediately shifted back to the chiseled readiness of a fire team in an urban environment.

DHS's version of MOUT (Military Operations on Urban Terrain) ops is apparently more present for the last three weeks or so. The question is, is it a training or is it active patrols with operations orders? That theoretically suggests that someone at the White House knows about these walkabouts in Charlotte. Preparations. Asking around today to some of my longtime and newer CMPD friends yielded little in the way of information as to the questions. They seemed to know less than I do regarding these patrols. Of the four officers, not one had even seen DHS operations in Charlotte since the DNC.

Some of the officers kicked about theories openly as to what it could be and why it's happening now. One said that it could be federal ramping up of familiarity with Charlotte as we fast approach an election year with a primary coming sooner than later. That means all the candidates will be coming through Charlotte soon. Joy. More heavy combat presence in the name of it all. Maybe that suggestion makes sense, but I fell like something else is happening. Something deeper.

In his short time as President of The United States of America, John F. Kennedy had been working towards a real global peace. There is an overwhelming amount of evidence supporting this philosophy and policy change in him. He gave everything he had to avoid a willed for nuclear (cold) war, he gave everything he had to end the Vietnam War before it officially started and he gave everything he had trying to dismantle the departmental and civilian powers calling for the constant policy of war. It was the trifecta of real awareness. In the year of his death Kennedy confided with his inner circle and wrote things down. One of the most profound things JFK came to understand in the summer before he died is that world peace could never happen from the top down. He knew that self examination is the foundation for peace and until that happens it can never be obtained. The depth of that thought is unimaginable to some.

Fly High Pontius

                      I made this picture of GJR's knee hole on Jan 2, 2010 at the top of Red Clay Hill


Love is blindness
I don't want to know
His humor is kindness
and his strength an inner glow

So the Ghost of Jerry Reed left the constraints of earth less than a week ago. And because of that my heart body has been consumed by intermittent shocks of pain. Like anyone who gives it up in the name of realness Kenny's presence will live beyond the days he spent here. With both hands over my heart, the mantra is ringing loudly in my head, "What's real can never be taken away."

About six years back from this I went down to Hawleyville in midstate South Carolina to ride in the Ian Foster Memorial Ride with a bunch of fine folks. At some point during that ride the Ghost of Jerry Reed crashed behind me on a semi-technical fire road descent. Hitting the surface of our only earth caused a dirty hole in his knee. The kid instead of trying to arrange for an extraction because of the bloody open injury acted as if nothing had happened. There was still a long time left in the saddle to the finish, but he uttered not one complaint or suggestion that he was in discomfort. Strength and calm during what must have been a painful situation radiated from within him. Apparently Kenny has had that trait his entire life, the time he spent here.

For weeks after the Hole in Knee incident I couldn't shake the feeling of being responsible for what had happened. Guilt. Guilty. Guilt knee. In my mind, my choice to go out with these pros on my fixed gear work bike caused the crash. More guilt. Every apology I could muster over time as recently as a year ago was answered by Kenny with,  "Don't worry about it, it wasn't your fault." Kindness during pain. We all have something to learn from that kid.  Maybe it wasn't my fault, maybe it was...

My deepest condolences to his wife, family, inner circle of friends, coworkers, anyone who crossed his path or read his hilarious work at the Hawley Blog and of course his champion falcon Pontius.

After Math: The Penumbra & Doppler Effects

Witnessing is like a certain testimony confirming the obvious. Observations from (Un)lonely Island:

A pall fell over downtown Charlotte shortly after dawn on Monday morning. Of course it had started hours before in the darkness of night after victory was stollen by the power of respect and absence of an overt ego. Within an hour at work this past Monday, the day after 'The Day', a realization came to me that our business was in the crosshairs of the corporate induced blanket of sad mood covering our fledgling metropolis. At that exact time the initial volley of emotional missiles came in the form of silence on the normally active communication line. Then as the day progressed towards the first illusion of a setting sun after 'The Day', our deepest fears had to be looked at for what they are worth. [We] lost.

Without aid of a scientific report, the intuitive in me feels like only half the normal workforce showed up on Monday. The other half was shell shocked without going to war. There was an aura of absence in all directions from The Square just before 0900hrs eastern zulu time. Sun and shadow casted down onto Tryon in a familiar geometric pattern which was a reminder of the Penumbra Effect. Even the police had pulled back from their normal posts giving those brave enough to show up on the stage that morning a chance to take in the coded drama. No sea of Panther hats which just a few days earlier were as ubiquitous as collared shirts tucked into khakis. On the day after 'The Day', the million Panther hats were put up for next year. There's always next year I've been told. Crickets and gloom all day became the theme. At 1700hrs eastern zulu time, the invoice told a telling story. It was 60% lower than any normal Monday on record. [We] actually felt the loss.

Penumbra Effect. Light and shadow, projection of opacity or translucence originating in this case from the sun, a glowing star 94 million miles from our line of sight. What's opaque is only really that at the center. From the center outwards towards the edges opacity becomes less. A stunning field observation of the Penumbra Effect is that the closer the opaque or translucent object is from the surface it is being projected on to, the more exact it becomes. Closest to the surface or furthest from the light source the image becomes the most clear to the visual cortex. Pull away from the projection surface with the opaque or translucent object towards the light source and the image becomes more blurred all the way to an unrecognizable vision. The Penumbra Effect seems to be a good gauge of society and its behavior.

Dialing in clarity takes bringing it close for an exact view of whatever it is. Questions that seem more important are never really asked because the response is usually the one that seems easiest. Less difficult is the choice of our new modern intelligent age. Maybe it is really flipped. Just perhaps the perceived easy choice is actually the complicated more difficult one and the choice that seems so difficult is easier than we could ever understand until we make it. There is only one way to know for sure and that starts with the individual experience of thought.

Shortly after the big loss I read about the new discovery confirming gravitational waves in our universe (or multiverse). The information stimulated my brain housing group to immediately search its hard drive for any past education of the Doppler Effect. The Doppler Effect impacts all waves. Light, sound, magnetic and so on. Now Gravitational on a universal (or multiverse) scale? That's a mind bender. The distance between the peaks of the waves shortening or elongating depending on the direction and speed traveling towards or away from the source emanating the wave(s) has explained many mysteries of our experience here on earth, a tiny speck in an ever accelerating expansion of a universe (or multiverse). How gravitational wave Doppler Effect reveals itself has yet to be fully understood. However there is evidence of what it looks like all around. Explaining it will take some time.

Sober Dreams

The true barrier to world peace is staring us right in the face at this exact moment in time more than ever before. [Now], this magical instant before us provides a constant education in the form of the syntax of nature, an unspoken language created by the true human experience on a flying rock spinning through an accelerating expansion of a universe. Rationalizations as well as justifications of completely ignorant and at its base, unequivocal support of America fascism behavior identify a culture with no serious authenticity of living. Authentic living however has become a global hashtag in the gas burning ether, rather than truth on earth. Truth is unavoidable. And intentionally avoiding it has life and death consequences within our understanding.

Fascism is defined as a national government which supports the interest of corporations rather than the citizens of that country. We've got that. Plenty of it and more than we can consume. Again, rationalization and justification are human conditions that the modern clinical institution has provided as a crutch for the unanimous acceptance of the corporate plan of aggression. A catalyst. The chain can be broken even though it won't be because of reluctance to surrender on an earth sized scale.

Have you heard of Noah Pier? Of course he isn't giving us a veiled drug suggestive end zone dance, nor is he selling Doritos or the official soft drink of the NFL for $30 million a second. But deep down you are closer to him than those corporate decoys will ever be. Noah was a Marine from south Charlotte who gave it up the minute he took the oath. When he was hurried through the doors at the receiving center on Parris Island in the middle of the night after being awake for almost 48 hours, he looked up and read the sign above him.

                                     THROUGH THESE PORTALS PASS PROSPECTS
                                        FOR AMERICA'S FINEST FIGHTING FORCE
                                                 UNITED STATES MARINES

One without the other cannot be possible. As long as the avoidance en masse is the prevailing emotional wind of the day, we are all stuck here to live out the result. Friction. And pain.

Recently I had the chance to find Noah's grave amongst the endless sea of white stones geometrically lined toward the rolling horizon in all directions on what used to be Robert E. Lee's land and estate. Those hillsides just across the Potomac River from Washington DC are Arlington National Cemetery. From the prone position in the grass with the dead just underneath me, my mind saw it so clearly. More clear than any lens or digital money box could replicate. In the section that Noah is laid to rest in, the majority of the birthdates on the headstones as far as my eyes could see were younger than my own. The manicured sod beneath me gave a grounding charge of energy in the pale gray afternoon while I listened to the helicopters overhead patrolling the skies over our nation's capital. How has it gotten to this and how can it be undone if this is our new American now?

It's obvious, even though what's obvious is completely overlooked when the rationalizations and justifications mentioned above fill the small gaps that our busy schedules provide us from time to time.

From my Sunday Night Bicycle ride from Arlington to Washington.

Year of The Cool 10 Year Anniversary

If you are cool and live in Charlotte, well then HAPPY ANNIVERSARY to you!

There is no such thing as coincidence, it's really synchronicity that has brought us to this point.

The Year of the Cool started sleepily this month in 2005 here in our fair Queen City. Cool came quick and out of nowhere. It quickly metastasized like cancer in the non-alkaline body through the rest of that summer until the fall and winter set in driving cool to its first winter hibernation. Cool naturally abates by a large degree in the colder darker months when the wet wind cuts through the jeans and two layer fashionable flannel. That first cold season cool did survive though, it held on long enough for the spring jean shorts and T-Shirt weather to give way to its epoch flight again that summer. Not a weekend went by without some form of collective cool throwaway junket until fall and winter came again.

It should be mentioned that any year before 2005 should be annotated with a BC for before cool. For example: My first year couriering in Charlotte was 1998BC. Of course if the year is after 2005, it should be ended with an AC for after cool.  For instance, Charlotte Mayor Patrick Cannon went to a minimum security federal prison in 2014AC.


 Before The Year of the Cool there was no cool like the mega cool we have here now. The good ole days are gone forever...

Revert Nation

C-130 Rolling down the strip, Golf Company 2/4 gonna take a little trip. Stand up, buckle up and shuffle to the door. Jump Right out and shout, "Marine Corps!" If my chute don't open wide, I've got a reserve on my side. If that one don't come around, I'll be the first one on the ground hooking and jabbing, slashing and a stabbing...

                                          photo cred: Combatreform.com

Up to Date

Shoveling shit out of the back of a yellow pick up truck with a hangover

The Gulf of Tonkin incident never happened.

Another

Collective Consciousness, good one, that's hilarious Dude. There is nothing collective, or conscious about any of this...

Cosmic

There are implications for breaking the law whether it's natural, cosmic, real or human. Of course every action is connected. Too bad the leaders, and the people they lead are completely disconnected from what is happening right in front of their eyeballs...

Don't Stare at the Sun, it'll drive you to a void of Thought...

 

Just before sitting down I made this blown image of the sun casting out its photon light energy in all directions.  Both lens and exposure are manual in this shot, somehow the effect is appealing to me considering the transfer I was about to go on.

I believe it was Robert E. Lee who was quoted but not cited saying, "Fiction weakens [spoils] the mind."  Not sure if I agree or not anymore, he does however have a good point...

Physical Placement
In the middle of the daylight day two full earth rotations back from this, my body and mind came to a still sitting position on the hot shingled roof of the place where I sleep.  This spot I sat on was a completely exposed steep slant in the middle of the section that connects the main roof of the house to the big one over the two car carport. The cause of being there was work alone for hours up and down, and back up sweating without realization.  Up there is where it gets more hot than on the ground below.  Tar.  Radiant waves of solid heat do not seem to bother my emotions or form as hours pass, once again without realization.  The longer the exposure to our immediate physical environment, the better adapted we become.  Even in the blasting hot heat.  Although my eyes were protected from the sun's gamma and beta, the atmosphere and all else I could feel wasn't.

What it looked like
There I sat with my legs crossed tightly.  My back was straight, my torso erect.  The only neck I have came strong holding my head completely high perched above the rest of me facing the solar center of our system.  Underneath me at a slant between the hot sloping shingles and my sit bones was the blanket sized piece of gray carpet that I have held onto from the jeep I once owned, or thought I did anyway.  Back then, with that truck I could and often did drive anywhere without thought or consequence.  Those days have become completely gone forever because my connection to the actual emotional cost has been learned.  Gone for the reality of just being creates in me an understanding of what is for sale. Rationalization, justification, ownership, avoidance, separation and so on. With that I am afraid to unlearn having only a small understanding of why.  The colors of the blanket and the roof melded visually into one even though the blanket was softer, and less hot to the touch.

Electricity in the Brain Housing Group
Thoughts form in my skull from what my life has given me in experiences of being.  Unfortunately there is no logical way to convey to you the exact mechanism that designs the start of a specific human thought.  Mystery. 

Interlude with Visual Connection
The sun was a dime sized blazing disc in the middle of the sky pointing down directly at the center of my forehead.  In the calm hot fiery air my eyes assayed the white roof top in all direction as far as I could see without moving my brain.  All appeared white, even the space around me except for the bright red bricks of the chimney squarely morphing from the peak upwards and the out of focus vibrant green trees behind that.  Mental depth of field.  Hazard.  A sundry of items lie scattered about littering the steep pitched deck.  Every object in front of me was familiar save the feelings pouring out onto the the carpet, and a small patch of roof in the form of liquid sweat.  It was so quiet and still up there.  Wonder.  As the fluid left me, it made contact with a small piece of exposed shingle just outside the carpet edge.  For a second I could almost smell the salt water turn to vapor as soon as it made contact with the hot roof.  Essence of one's self is rarely understood, at that moment I was on the way to doing just that.

Specificity in the Inventory of  Visual Scanning
Without moving my body or head the optic recognition of senseless objects continues with little thought.  The narrow heavy blue steel cat's paw lied motionless just a few feet away out of reach.  It was sticking out on its side from underneath a trashed shingle.  It was apparent just by staring at its inert response that the tool was soaking up the heat without letting it go.  Holding on. 

Really, 94 Million Miles of an Absence of Space
Just then my eyes broke from the tool below me looking up towards the solar information disc above, some 94 million miles distant.  That orb of hot glowing gasses with a volume 1.3 million times greater than that of earth appeared dime to nickel size hanging motionless up above the white sky.  Blue is no longer.  Not only was the position of the northern hemisphere tilted on axis directly towards the sol, but the slanted roof I was perched on increased the visual angle.  Slant v. Slope.  Now I was still again soaking up the radiation without moving, only concentrating on what being felt like.  Inside my mind even that movement was slowing, which created space for a trickle of imagination.

Sound Vibration and Space
They say you cannot hear the sound of the sun, so I tried anyway.  Yes, there is no physical way that the deafening sound (to us here on earth) of the sun can be heard for the vibrations do not travel through the 94 million miles of vacant space vacuum between here and there.  Each and every atom in my human body takes up as much room as that space between here and the sun, that was my last thought before it all went away. My eyes were closing a bit just as the vibration became audible in my cortices.  Although the noise was made up, it was real as my mental landscape gave up the room to accept how easy it is to understand.  Distortion.  Electro-Magnetic sharp waves pulsating as a result of fiery hydrogen and helium gasses to name a few being the most powerful thing within my realm.  The light is on me immediately, however the sound is almost two decades behind at that exact second in time.  Confusion leads to more letting go and opening.

Breathe and Breath
The basic human function overlooked by our culture.  Time is irrelevant, a watch means nothing although watching is everything.  It takes many practices to get deep breathing to touch your diaphragm.  Many attempts of concentrating on a balance between the same length of inhales, versus the immediate transition to exhales without hesitation.  These practices allow you to focus on going deeper with inhales in succession each time moving right into the same length of exhales, back to a deeper inhale, matching exhale and so on.  Before long that inhale supersedes the times space allotted by the bounds of modernity and contact is made with the diaphragm, a feeling one never forgets or unlearns when it is experienced.  We all know that the diaphragm is the muscle under our lungs and above our stomach.  Feeling it which created a visual behind closed eyes is a whole other story.  In the scorch up high, no one dropped by as I began to free fall into the absence of thought with complete feeling.

First Movement out of the Trance
Om Shanti.  In my mind was a blank screen long enough to feel bliss, the journey took me to a destination not often seen.  A specific vision often comes to my mind, as far back as Christmas of 1976 or 77.  The better part of my life I would ignore the little picture or film in my mind's eye up until about twelve years ago when I was taught exactly how important it is to understand the visual impressions my mind provides me for free, in the true sense of the word.  These little clips are insights to the invisible forces of love and gravity, truth and what is real.  For the past few weeks I have been bothered while waking up in the middle of a night by an animated little cerebral video of a giant white three ring binder.  When I came out of my space vacant of thought or connection the first thing that I saw even though in light I was surrounded by darkness was that white three ring binder.  Somehow, the place was perfect for me to understand what was happening and hold onto what was being cast onto the inside front movie screen of my skull.  All of a sudden this plain white binder on an even brighter white backdrop opened up with invisible fingers attached to a just as invisible hand so that I could see the contents of the book.  White paper, completely blank.  The image was still for a piece, then the invisible fingers began to flip through the pages so that I could see three things.  First, there was nothing on either side of the paper.  Secondly, there was an infinite amount of pages from the beginning, the flipping would go on for eternity.  And finally, those blank pages are the empty guidelines not yet written for the future ahead of me, and us all passed the immediate now.

Conclusion leads to the Next Space
When I came back to earth reality sort of speak, I realized I was not sweating anymore.  My body was cooked even before I went into a meditative state and now distance had been traveled on the earth hurtling through at 55,000mph. How far had I gone while sitting there under the hypnosis of the information disc?  Wonderment.  My Indian Style motionless sit journey took me out for a spin of no fewer than 55,000 miles and what a ride it was considering I never left where the two roofs came together.

Dam (like damn) Pictures of the Week...

On Thursday afternoon Albemarle Rd., HWY 24/27 was closed in both directions at the big dip just passed the Lawyers Rd. and East Harris intersection because of a cracked weir holding back the swollen man made Forest Lake.  Outbound rush hour car commuter traffic on Albemarle heading east was a dam standstill nightmare all the way back to Independence, unless of course you were on dam a bicycle. 

Friday morning I rolled out of the house early with my little camera in the bag and headed over to check out how much progress was made from the overnight efforts of the CFD and some contractors to drain the lake and relieve pressure on the dam weir.  When I stood on the east bank of the lake, the first thing I noticed besides the huge generator pumps and their lines was the roof of a car.  HWY 24/27 had been reopened long before I arrived. 

Here is a look at the riprap application on the backside of the stress fatigued dam.  A few meters down below the sloping terrain is 24/27.  Although Forest Lake is not a huge body of water, it had enough volume behind the dam to cause a major problem across Albemarle and in the neighborhood on the other side of the highway on down stream.  *Notice what appears to be a big pile of condoms that were cleared from the pipes. The man on the phone might be calling the mayor's office to find out what to do with them...

The dam draining seemed to be winding down, the big motors went silent.  I rode around to the west bank of the lake and talked to a few folks from the press corps, including a familiar staff photographer from the Observer.  This photographer who will remain anonymous for the time being or until you use your intuitive deductions skills, asked me if I had rode all the way from the big buildings just to get a shot of the car.  I gave him the brief organic explanation about my daily commute which made him smile and almost start to laugh.  When I asked him about the scoop on the car, he told me that the bigger story was that the pumps continuously stopped working through the night.  "Yeah", he said, "One of the engineers told me that the big pipes draining the lake kept getting clogged up which caused the motors down to shut down often.  Apparently there were 25 years worth of condoms in the lake that were jamming the pipes."  Oh, I get it, you are making a dam joke.  Very funny.

Seriously, what about the dam car, was there a body in it?  We talked a bit more about the project unfolding in front of us.  My intuitive self felt like there was no human in the sunken car, but that feeling was based on my scanning of what I could see of the passenger compartment and the body language of the CMPD brass standing quietly on the hill.  The contents of the trunk was the only question, there was a physical block I could not feel passed to know for sure whether or not there was a body in there. 

The news crews started packing up and it was time for me to get going as well.  I overheard one of the cameramen mention that 'they' will not pull the car out while the cameras were set up.  The waiting game was over and the Observer guy without offering to drive me into town told me to be careful on my ride in.  "Thanks, if I'm not you'll read about it in that paper you work for", I told him as I rode away beating him and his motorized van to East Harris and beyond. 

This parting image was the most interesting in the set to me.  Tree stumps at the bottom of Forest Lake, I would have never thought that the floor of the lake looked like this until I saw it myself.  It was clearly obvious that this man made lake was one day natural wooded space.

901 Gone to the Dogs

23May2011

Geared Road Ride with Dude, PLUS 900th Post

Dude and I stopped at around about 55 miles for me, something like 63 for him under a shade tree at Cold Springs and Cold Springs.  Our twenty minute respite gave us a chance to get caught up on our emails, consume some liquid and advise a caller from far away on the best way to remove pedals from a bike. The caller must have never done that before...

Another one of Jerry's 105km (125km getting on and off from my hizzle) cues out east of here provided not only country visual oohs and aahs, but as well enough exposed to the sun's power climbing to hurt just a bit.  Dude rolled up from his house to mine at right before 0800hrs yesterday, the Fourth of July. He had just missed my dumb ass neighbor's thick black male cat remove a road killed meat bloody squirrel from the street in front of my mailbox, and then struggle with its head in his mouth all the way to his own back step. 

Never a dull moment here in the wild kingdom known as east Charlotte.  We rolled out on time with Dude convincing me that we do not have to swallow our pride surfing the side walk on Albemarle Rd. until it ends out by Wilgrove Mint Hill Rd., we would take to HWY 24/27 as if we owned it.  Interestingly enough, just like he said when we turned out of the far end of a connected neighborhood onto it, "Oh yeah, we got this."

Then out passed Sherman Branch we spun by as folks unloaded their mountain machines in the lot about to go into the woods before it got too hot.  The Rocky River Church Road took us out to the lower then right onto Morrison Rd. It is truly amazing how quickly leaving the hectic traffic of Charlotte disappears turning into an innocuous authentic smelling farm field scape lined with two miles of tall pines.  A dog barks while Dude talks about future rides he is preparing for right now. No one is out of their homes, even in the country the blinds are drawn behind the cars filling the drive.  A rooster blasts his calls announcing our approach as we zoom by.

Flowes Store Rd was next then left on it again riding deeper out into the gentle agricultural land rollers.  As the ride hit the 2 and a half hour mark I started to notice the most uniquely built old turn of the 19th Century farm houses. Some of them were abandoned, slanting to the right or left with rusted tin roofs clinging to main frame chimneys.  The porches on these places told me a short story each time I looked over my shoulder then hearing the hot wind in my ear. Mainly white now faded gray was the color of choice, even back then.  Vines and golden fields took up my view only yielding to those which were green or brown.  Jwaye, you were missing the 'where the fuck am I transfer'.

More heat but not the eXtreme kind, yet radiant and pulsating on my skin.  Morale is always good when riding with Dude.  As we talked about things in general and pro level drive trains (on his bike, not mine) I realized that I had been riding with him for over a decade.  Age is whiz dumb and learning simultaneously while watching friends pedal right next to you for long periods of time or transfer.  That famous morale of the only person I was riding with other than me never wavered when I (then we) realized that I had erroneously transposed a left turn missed for an actual right turn that I never saw until we were about four miles off the cue.  How could it be a ride with me if we didn't get lost for awhile?

Fixing that with the hand held transmitter as someone parked their idling Agway lawnmower to run into the store gave us the only busy road we felt.  Back on continued with the most incredible roads available to ride out of town.  Some of them were narrow without any painted lines or a single auto the whole way.  Again, the feeling of real living enveloped us as we rode right through the center of it.  Where are we, I thought to myself at about three hours in riding as I was staring at hundreds of cows and bulls dotting the immediate right hand side of the paved quiet Euro road for two thousand meters.  Cedar post fence with barbed wire run in between separated us on our bikes rolling from these large animals that like a painting disappeared into the distant tree line.  Some were eating the lush green short grass while others were moving about with their babies or standing in the center of a low brown pond.  Most of them seemed to at least take notice of us as we pedaled on by staring at them.

Mt. Olive Road and its series of sun blistered climbs as well as Dude's pace put me to task.  Once again my heart was apparent and visually on the front of the inside of my skull.  Bright lights small town or none at all.


Real sugar.  On in on Albemarle again something like four hours and a half riding time closing in on our separate homes Dude and I split before the train bridge, him to the right for Pence then Hickory Grove while I continued tingly on HWY 24/27.  It took me a minute to cool down when I arrived at the safety of the place I sleep with dogs. 

Note from Author:  When I logged in toonight to make this post documenting my latest road ride, I noticed that it was going to be my 900th post.  Yes I know, most of it is crap but it does fascinate me that I have gotten on here and put something, anything out that many times.  Even more intriguing is that you are part of it and at anytime can go back all the way to the beginning, 900 posts ago.  To Celebrate I feel like I should go on a 900 mile ride or something...

13 Years Ago Today & It's About the People...

No gain, no pain...

Here is a recent shot of Nate on the beach near Bol Croatia.  He is apparently impressing the people on the ferry cruising the Adriatic Sea behind him with his mad HASTA PADANGUSTHASANA skills.  Photographer Nela Kranjcevic.  *Note:  Header image credit obviously Nela as well.

Today is July 3, 2011 which happens to be the thirteenth Anniversary of the first day I started as a bike messenger in Charlotte.  Time flies when you are having fun making money having fun.  Those very first few days on the job are clear in my memory, especially meeting two of the couriers already in place.  One of those was the not yet notable to many Rich Dillen, and the other was Nathan Sprinkle.  Dicky is still around, however Nathan has long since moved on with his life which has taken him on multiple journeys to far away places in Africa and Europe.

Friends do not have to talk much on the phone or the email to actually remain friends when time and space on this earth separates them.  Over the years riding as my livity in Charlotte I have met some truly amazing and powerful humans, Nathan is near the top of that list.  In celebration of my 13th year of couriering by bike, I would like to share with you Nate's response to 10 questions that I recently posed to him.  His matter of fact answers are coming all the way from Belgrade Serbia where he has found some sort of internal peace that is apparent in his words and the picture above.  I find his character and worldly bravery an inspiration that is worth sharing with you. 

1. Since I've known you Nate, you've been on many travels. How long has it been on this latest excursion since you left America, and where are you now?

I left the USofA in early July of 2010, so it's been almost a year. I am writing from Belgrade, Serbia, where I have a legally obtained Temporary Resident Visa. Since Nela and I plan to marry we have to figure out what procedures are necessary for maintaining my legitimate existence. For instance, do I try to get a new international driving permit or a license issued by the Serbian authorities?

2. Do you miss your existence here in the U.S.?

I miss certain things about the US. My family, of course. My sister's baby is growing up fast and I can only watch his human progress via skype. Not to mention my 3 nieces. I miss certain foods. I miss the National Park System. There are some really beautiful landscapes in this part of the world but they are not easy to access.
3. Have you found a bike, and more importantly do you ride it much? If so, what is it like to ride in such a far away place?

I do have a bike, remember I posted some photos of it on my FB wall. It is a strange gestalt that is referred to here as a fitness bike. I use it to commute as often as possible. I don't ride for recreation as much as I was in the States. Perhaps because I have a girlfriend (now fiance), and perhaps because Belgrade isn't really a great place to ride a bike, topographically or traffically. I have met a few local riders through a website (www.cikloberza.com) and plan to get riding more in the future. I want to do some touring, but that is predicated on finding a way to earn money.
4. Does your last experience as a messenger here in Charlotte still have an impact on your life right now?

I often feel very lazy. There isn't much teaching to do, I have only a few classes, and it is not physically taxing work. I do housework, of course, but that doesn't count. I have to remind myself that I can work hard and diligently when the need arises. I think back to my last messenger experience: 50 minute morning commute, 8 hour day of riding, then straight to class until after dark, and end with another long commute or a bus ride if I was lucky. I miss it sometimes.
5. What does it feel like to have a college degree from an American University while living in eastern Europe?

I wish I had studied Biology.

6. How's Nela?

Nela is in conflict right now. She wants to change her job, and has the opportunity to do so. But the new job pays less than her current job. Also she wants to have a baby, and if she takes the new job she feels she will have to put off having a baby. She is happy we are getting married, though, and that we are getting long really well, after a rough patch a month or so ago. *Late Edit: She took the new Job.
7. Do you ever tell anyone in Serbia that you know Team Dicky and The Pie personally?

I haven't met anyone who are aware of the Team Dicky phenomenon, much less The Pie. Sometimes I am surprised at how much people know of American Culture and at other times I am disappointed at things they have missed. I'm not sure how Team Dicky would be interpreted by the Serbian audience. Would they see it as just another example of American moral depravity? Or as the Id that opposes US cycle racing's Ego?
8. What's the biggest difference between the American culture you were raised in, and the culture of the people you are surrounded by right now?

Nela was surprised when I told her that many, if not most, people in the US believe in Heaven and Hell. I was raised by a Christian family in a Christian society and only reached atheism by way of a long period of contemplation and consideration. Here, atheism is just the way things are. Even people who are religious (in Serbia, Orthodox Christianity is most common) are not beholden to all of the strict doctrines that US Christians hold dear.
9. In the recent image (assumed to be shot by Nela) I saw of you holding some sort of yoga pose (excuse my ignorance like you always have), what body of water is behind you?

The body of water is The Adriatic Sea, specifically the part that flows between the islands of Brać and Hvar. The pebble beach on which I balanced is called Zlatni Rat or "Golden Cape" (though 'rat' can also mean 'war') near the town of Bol. The photo is deceiving, the beach is actually pretty crowded, but not nearly as crowded as, say, Myrtle Beach. The water is crystal clear down to at least 30 feet. Also I haven't done a full yoga session in months.
10. Right now, this magical instant before us, do you ever see yourself coming back to the land of the free?

Sure. At least to visit. It depends on economics, really. But I expect to be, as I always am, dismayed and depressed by the continual and unflagging destruction of the best thing about America: the land.

Thanks, I don't think of myself as an inspiring person. I had the pleasure of meeting two friends from the States on the recent trip to Croatia. I hope some day you and I have a chance to meet on the soil of this continent.

Smrt Fašizam (as they used to say),
nathan

Laptop Round Up for the Real Goal Reached, and that is just the beginning...

Here Ryan (not wearing a tie) and Luiguuy graciously take a minute to pose for me and my ubiquitous eyephone ap. Note: Ryan's eyes are wide open...

On my regular commute in earlier today the rhythm of the constant cranking combined with fact that a patch of my soft rubber tires were making a narrow short but firm contact with the man made enhancement to the earth's surface, I had a thought. This original Bill thought started with a sound in my ears, like a ringing: Life as well as our existence in it is truly more than who we are, or who we perceive ourselves to be. This is not about me, or anyone specifically for that matter.

According to our accounting department, as of June 1, ten laptops with functioning operating systems (the Hackers told me operating operating systems 'sounds' funny) have been delivered to Haiti and are in the loop on the ground helping folks who live in a place where time stands still. That is good.

Even better though is that thanks to the overall support of Hackerspace Charlotte, Smiles, Danny, of course Ryan, and a few others who need no press we were able to pass to Luiguuy five working machines last night. That means that the Laptop Round Up for the Real has been able to meet its goal of 15 donations. Dough Nay Shuns. The crazy part is we will be steadily passing by the original goal for our own kinda victory over the next months and perhaps into early next year. In other words, (we) still have more to fix in the hole, and really wonderful humans have made commitments to our project that will keep it going well into the fall.

Just as the Hackerspace was trying out their new perfectly legal pneumatic Rocket Launcher along side the main train tracks that service both freight trains and speeding by Amtrak passengers, Luiguuy pulled in to make the pick up. Before we gave him the computers, we made sure he got to see at least one launch. No tease, that paper/duct tape missile lofted up over 250 feet above our heads. Shock and awe, the Hackerspace never lets you down.

Jwaye told me that back when she was in college her communication media professor taught her that this image is classic, "Grip and grin." Jwaye, all the money that your parents spent on your college experience was well worth it, you are educated.

Here Luiguuy and I complete the collegiate degree with a very natural, grip and grin. Both of us are actually smiling because what is happening around us is completely real.

Quarry Swim

Eyephone Ap Image of Mein Schatz with goggles on in the center of the frame last Monday afternoon shot by me.

For those of you who missed it, this is the quarry I passed on my solo 125km ride the previous Sunday from now.  I was in northwest Cabarrus County, about as far away as Jerry's cue took me when just below the road at a steep angle was the most perfect looking swimming hole I've seen in years here in North Carolina.  There was no way I could stop then, I had to keep pedaling for the house was still hours away.

The next day however I had the chance to surprise my kid with a clean cold water swim transfer.  Before we left she kept asking questions about what it was going to be like.  She understands completely how polluted the water in our county actually is and wanted to verify that she was not going to be let down after having to spend an hour in the car each way.  Google earth satelite imagery a few hundred feet above the deck was all she needed to see before suggesting that we leave right away.  So, we did.

It was hard to believe how far away the spot seemed by UN Montero as compared to my bike ride.  That place is out there.  I found myself reminding her each time she asked about how much longer was it going to take to get there that just the day before I had made it on my bike and home, it cannot be that much farther.  Finally, the spot.  A short descent down a steep and a scan of our selected place along the water's edge.  Safety first.  There were no postings and we happened to be the only ones there for just under two hours. 

Earth like lunar planet (like plan it) landscape, clean smelling cool water. Sun blast information disc heat on shoulders creating a happy kid disappearing under the surface of molecular water.  I really felt for a split second that I was in the sacred place of Utah while knowing damn well I was in the center of the Tar Heel State.  The dry wind felt amazing on my wet skin when I walked out of, not on the water.  Bright sun photon light energy (E=MC2) blasted us as we frolicked.  Warmth and quiet looking with birds flying high above.

My kid continues to amaze me with the way she receives her natural surroundings.  She is older now, being pulled between the safety of being a small child, naive to the aggressive nature of the agenda above us and stepping out into her own reality check.  Beauty in feeling what her emotional capacity has to offer makes her bright eyed, especially in the water which is one of the three colors that makes up her earth colored eyes.

Now I know why I went on that long ride alone...

Crepuscular Rays

Are what you have been looking at for the last week or so up top.

Crepuscular Rays (a.k.a. God Rays) have always caught my attention whenever I see them forming.  As a small kid running around on a hill in Connecticut I can remember seeing them up by the power lines that would stop me in my tracks.  Power line, get it?

The evening sky was looking right just a week and a half ago, so I ran around the front and down the street for a somewhat clear line with the old lens on and one in each in my two front pockets.  These rays were not that impressive, however, as an experiment they were worth capturing.

Basically Crepuscular rays occur in our visual cortices when the sun's hectic photon energy streams through gaps in the clouds.  The effect is dramatized through my eyes when the under side of the clouds that the light is streaming through becoming more shadowed and dark.  These light shows usually happen in the late evening hours which is how they got there name.  Here is the definition of crepuscular from the dictionary:

-adjective
1.  of, pertaining to, or resembling twilight; dim; indistinct
2.  Zoology.  appearing or active in the twilight, as certain bats and insects

So, now that the science part of this post is over, I would like to share something I find hilarious with you.  Cedar Posts and Barbed Wire Fences (a.k.a Cedar) is the only blog (not bike related) that I am completely addicted to, have been for a few years now since I accidentally discovered that he had Rock and Roll Stop the Traffic linked on his blog roll.   Although I do not agree with everything he believes in, I am amazed at how truthful his information is as compared to say, any other local media outlet in the region.   If you want to get the real insight as to what is happening in our town, I highly suggest checking in with him regularly.  He is brave.

Anyhow, the other day I was reading his post about something sort of dumb that NBC did during the start of their coverage of the U.S. Open Golf Championships.  That dumb thing turned even more dumb when NBC as a Corporate 'voice' electronic entity apologized for the first dumb thing on Twitter almost immediately after it had happened.  Okay fine, I am updated, but what was hilarious to me was in the comment line three down.

(sorry in advance for the F-bomb being posted on this blog.  That happening is a first, and at least it is not mine)

Anon 11:17pm lovingly writes:


its - a possessive, similar to your, NO FUCKING APOSTROPHE
it's - a contraction of "it is", as in 'it's fucking simple', A FUCKING
APOSTROPHE


Need a trick? Fine - when using it's or you're, expand the contraction. If
"you're head is full of shit" becomes "you are head is full of shit" and doesn't make any sense (maybe it will to you because you're a fucking idiot), then you are using the wrong word.
June 20, 2011 11:17 PM 

 Then Cedar replies with:

Cedar Posts said...

Funny comment even with all the F-Bombs.


Note to the rational, normal people in the world: Thanks for understanding!


To everyone else, its a BLOG! So before you work yourself into a stroke, please consider these ten points:


1) Most of this is "Orginal Content"
2) done on the fly from a BlackBerry
3) By someone wjo can't spell
4) or type
4) and has limited math skills.
5) While most people can "read around" typos,
6) this writer has come to accept that some people are obsessed with even the smallest of tiny details.
7)Sad but over the years I have come to learn that small people have small lives, and live in small homes where the littlest things drive them crazy.
9) I have to laugh and hope they aren't armed and that the bus route doesn't run close to their homes.
10) But its OK with me if you want to rant your life away.
June 21, 2011 4:39 AM 

 Yesterday I made a happy handed from brain mistake when I wrote: This will be another 15 second proceeding in where the defense will inform the judge and the state whether it has had the time to read the discovery it was presented at the last court date. 

Over twenty years ago I learned HOW TO APPLY WHETHER, AND I HAVE NEVER FORGOTTEN.  (Until yesterday apparently)

Of course when I read my post this afternoon and caught the fact that I had left out an 'or not', I fixed it after feeling the blog writer's invisible humiliation. You can't see it, but it kicks you in the gut every time and makes you think about dying. Cedar has the right understanding of the problem making mistakes.  I need to learn from him and just build a bridge so I can ride my bike right over it.  I was however sort of let down that a raving lunatic did not blast me with an anonymous identity on my comment section. Thanks once again Cedar, this time for drawing my attention to what is completely real...

No I haven't Forgotten, how could I ever?

I am sharing [with no intent to sell anything] this picture of Radok that I found on his memorial faceliftbook page.  The original credit looks like it goes to Laura Dwyer whose name was attached to the image. (I changed her original work to Black & White and did an 'e' crop)

It has been over five months since Radok left the face of the earth, and I am often tacitly reminded about the life he lived during my daily existence still living.  Small things you know.  For example, on my inbound commute I pass the white wall that I was sitting on behind the Exxon 'on' the run, while waiting for him to roll up that day he followed me in to make a picture in the rain.   Another example would be that about an hour after passing the wall, I get coffee down at the CM2 in the South End is near.  On the cabinet door below the shelf that the coffee thermoses are on is one of those Chris Radok sitting in the chair stickers.  When I look at him, he stares right back.   Two hours later, I am in the courthouse.  For the rest of my career I will not be able to go into that house of judiciary without knowing that is where Radok's murderer is being brought to face the truth of his projection and manifestation.

After I leave the courthouse, on my way to deliver the work  I often climb up to Tryon on Trade Street which has me go right by the Ritz.  Hey, that's where Radok worked.  Time goes by and I ride around on the schedule to the firms and a few hours later I find myself racing (sort of) to a call for an ASAP.  It is tight traffic on south Tryon and street side parked autos have me pinched in a tiny little place of a line.  Once Radok ran backwards with the wide lens and body in his hand to get a cool cold rainy day shot of Nate and I.  More time passes, back to the courthouse and another return trip.  In the afternoon, on my way home that very same day I will go right by that same white wall again.  How could I not recognize it for the spiritual message that it actually is.  Radok, it's not just me man.  You're life, the way you lived it and the impact you had on those people fortunate enough to have spent time with you will be felt forever...

Maybe I should get you all caught up on the court proceedings in the case of The State of North Carolina v. Antoine D. Young.  Here is the organic down load as of today.  After the post pone meant of the Rule 24 Hearing one was had on the very next monthly calendar opening.  The state, headed up by Gabrielle Macon publicly presented their intent to seek the death penalty for Young as punishment upon conviction.  I was there that day with some gum chewing energy amongst other friends, but I missed Young being led in to be told about his own death.  After the hearing and the intentions of the state being read I felt neutrality, revenge is not apparent in what I feel.  Process.  Rule 24.

Since then there has been one other court date, which is not considered a hearing.  Bev in the District Attorney's office has answered my calls and always takes the time to explain to me what is going on.  I should also let you know that I check in with the criminal clerk every several weeks to see if there is any new info.  The last court date was back in May and it was a 15 second admin session where basically the state presented the defense with all the evidence discovery that it had collected in the case.  The defense stated that it had received the discovery, Young was never brought in the room or seen on the screen.

The next court date has been set for July 7th in CR5350 on the 0900hr docket call. This will be another 15 second proceeding in where the defense will inform the judge and the state whether or not it has had the time to read the discovery it was presented at the last court date.  Once that has been determined an announcement will be made regarding how the case will proceed.  I will check with some folks this week and next to make sure there are no surprises. If there are any changes or new information that is important I will be sure to pass along here and on the FLB Memorial Page.

After the July date it would make sense that there will be a plea hearing sometime in the fall.  At that point Young will have to enter a plea of guilty, or not.  If he admits the truth and his guilt a long trial will be avoided in trade for his execution. If he chooses the other entry, a long trial will most likely start in around a year, to a year and a half from now.  I think I speak for a few when I say that no matter what happens, the state has to guarantee that if Young admits his guilt or is convicted he has to spend the rest of his natural life incarcerated. Justice is in the hands of the people and we will be with this one all the way through...