Bike Racing, Weight Lifting, Heavy Metal, Shittalking

Monday, August 11, 2008

A roller-skating jam named Saturday

Saturday was fun. I stayed up late on Friday watching the Olympic Road Race on the Internet. It was a bit hazy, but gorgeous. The long helicopter shots of Beijing were gorgeous. The only adio was the helicopter blades and the various revs and beeps of the support cars. Without Paul Sherwin and Phil Ligget it was almost a meditation on the act of cycling. That might have been the weed talking (thinking).

So I awoke a bit late. The morning was gone and my room was beginning to heat 
up. It was time to go to the track! I got my coffee and my shit together, payed a quick visit to Kate's to smoke the wizard with her friends, Mouth of the Architect.


Khaari was at the track and he is fast, I am kinda scared of when he gets out of the juniors.  I knew I was gonna get some good work outs today. Dan was there and he was kind enough to motorpace me around for few goo efforts. I ledout Khaari a couple of times. His power is breathtaking. Hope he stays with it. I did a few flying 200's with the new wheels. My goal is sub 12, and I am getting just under 13 sec. The new Zipp wheels didn't help either. They are signifigantly stiffer than my Mavic Ellipses. I had too much air pressure in the tires, 170 psi is just too much for Ol' Lumpy. My first run had me bouncing around the corners too much and I had to correct my line. 13.9, bad. Tried again from the saddle with and got 13.6. still bad. Let out a little air and focused on keeping my upper loose to absorb the bumps. 12.96. Better but not the goal. I wanted to wait and recover completely but I was already late. Next week I gonna do them fresh, not at the end of my workout. I had to leave and book it back home in time for work. 

Work was where this Saturday really started to come together as my magnum opus. I switched sides so that I could be done at ten, when the show started. Only problem, Mighty Diamond and Teddy's both close at 11 pm, and we play at 10:30. I got a call at 10 from Teddy's. I was supposed to be at the show already. Worse yet, I had to ride right by the show on my way to the delivery. Nick from Absurd System recognized me, yelling "What the Fuck, Man?!" as I rode by.  I did my delivery and made it back to the show in ten minutes. Bill rushed me in  to set up. My tooth was hurting me and I paused by the bar to get a shot and a beer. No way, Jose. I get my drink from the back bar after I set up, because as usual, it is Bills way or the highway. I didn't load in so I didn't grab all the cables I needed. Or a guitar strap. So I had to borrow all that from After ze Bombs. They were nice about it. Good to go!

The show fucking sucked. The drums were miked and that was it.  All we could hear in the monitors was Hugo's rhythmic racket. We opened with Vitreolouse and I wasn't rocking as hard as I could, but the tooth and training earlier on top of working had me a little down. Hugs fucked up the changes on our second song, Ruinous Future. We made things better through the breakdown but the damage had been done. We were supposed to head right into our third song,  Gag Order, but Bill broke a string and had a hissy fit on stage when no one noticed and we bounced right along with the song. We stopped and made some awkward stage banter. I checked my phone. No calls. If one came in now all I could do is deliver it after the show.

We finished playing at 10:55. I had succeeded  in playing a show on the clock. Punk! I left the Supreme Trading and cashed out at the last of the restaurants. I returned to show and Hugs was schmoozing some pr guy. We decided to go to my apt for big Bob Marley joints. I hoped to catch Unearthly Trance but it wasn't in the stars. I got back for After ze Bombs. They rocked hard and there were a lot of people dancing around. A girl aproached me and tried to tell me something, but I couldn't hear her. We ended up buying each other drinks after the show. We were loading out our gear and she came out to talk to me some more. A bit of making out ensued and an Irish Good Bye to the band got us to my apt. The final Maestro's stroke.

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