Thursday, January 29, 2009

Wednesday, January 7, 2009


As I was driving down the road with a friend on a trip to Julian today we noticed a man riding his bycicle along our narrow two lane road. Now cyclists on this road are always an anoyance because there isn't really room for them, but I do greatly appreciate people who ride their bikes. I think the world would be a better place if more people road a bike instead of driving. But this particular cyclist, despite the gray hair and heavy visage, may have taken his training wheels off for the first time today. He sat demonstratively low and wobbled from side to side with the rotating motion of the pedals. We swerved to avoid him.

Winding up the inclined turns toward Ramona, we spotted yet another cyclist trying to get some equilibrium. He seemed to think that if he jerked his handle bars from side to side he might make it up the hill faster. Instead he ended up looking as if he might turn and tumble down the twisted road and into the Oak trees at any moment.

Are some people just never meant for certain things? Or do all people who are a cyclist, surfer, biker, sky scraper window washer, etc. go through a wobbly period? I would hope that wobbles lead to efficiency but one can never assume. Bike licenses anyone?

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Fraudulant years

These are the playmate years, and they are demonstrably fraudulent. The scene is reputed to be acrawl with adorably amoral bunnies to whom sex is a pleasant social favor. The new culture. And they are indeed pleasant and available, in exhausting quantity, but there is a curious tastelessness about them. A woman who does not gaurd and treasure herslelf cannot be of very much value to anyone else. They become a pretty little convienience, like a guest towel . And the cute little things they say, and their daintly little squeels of pleasure and release are as contrived as the embroidered initials on the guest towels. Only a woman of pride, complexity, and emotional tension is genuinely worth the act of love and there are only two ways to get yourself one of them. Either you lie, and stain the relationship with your own sense of guile, or you accept the involvement and the emotional responsibility, the permanance she must by nature crave. I love you can be said only two ways.

-Observations from popular 60's fiction writer, John D. MacDonald