Here’s the big secret in case you haven’t caught on yet. No riding = no writing.
It doesn’t mean I only write about bike rides. It means riding bikes lifts my wordy and worldly spirits. Only when the body is fully engaged in a fight for survival can the mind slip out the back door and roam free in the back alleys of Kathmandu or drink unsweetened tea on the porch of forgetfulness. Like panning for gold, all of the inconsequential impurities rinse away in a sticky sweat. When the ride is over I am left with the images that endure, and patient thoughts that seek to be expressed.
I guess we will see what kind of flake is in the creek tonight.
Go get ’em!
Damn Jauncho! Can that *method* be taught?
“drink unsweetened tea on the porch of forgetfulness”
Ah man! If you only knew. Nice nice words……
Flakes in the Creek? Is that a Kansas song?