School's out for Christmas

I almost put an x in there, just for the sake of economy, but I thought better of it.

I started watching The Social Network today, but I'm too tired to finish it. For now I'll say that, at this moment, I'm thinking about centering my review around a comparison of Mark Zuckerberg (at least his fictional manifestation) and Holden Caulfield. This will be rich territory, as both of these young men represent an end game of the American dream. But I'll finish the movie before I write the review.

I enjoyed the last day today. Often it's a throwaway sort of affair, but today felt more real and relaxed and productive. A significant part of that was an after school supper and "party" at our place with a group of student writers. (They write a variety of genres: poetry, prose, anime graphical storytelling.) We've been meeting since the middle of October. It's a great group. They take their work seriously, and they're comfortable with themselves and with each other. The pretension level is off the charts low, for young people artists (is that an indirectly negative thing to say?)! What I mean is, they don't put on airs. They present their work. They stand behind it. They offer great advice to one another. They listen for, and graciously consider, the advice they're given. It's very good.

The ride in:           Temp -10'C Wind NW 15 ks
The ride home:     Temp -11'C Wind NW 10 ks

Fresh snow on bike

If you're riding your bike through heavy snow, the worst place to try to keep the front wheel straight is following the track of a car or truck. As far as I can tell, the car is moving fast enough that it doesn't pack the fresh snow very tightly. So what you have is a layer of packed snow - a quarter to half inch crust - above an inch or so of softness. When you try to track your way along this path with your 32 mm wide bike tire, it's going to bite right through that crust and sink and swerve in the soft stuff. You will want to hold the wheel straight. You will believe that holding the wheel straight is what must happen. But you will lack the friction assistance you need to do this, because it will, momentarily, be as if your front wheel is free to turn, as though it was up in the air. But it's not. The final treachery will be that beneath that soft stuff, there will almost certainly be a thin layer of ice or hard-packed snow on the pavement. There will be little that you can do about this, short of using studded tires (which I don't, and I will explain why later*). All of which means, despite your best efforts to keep the front wheel straight and in line with the rear wheel, you will fail, and you will fishtail and swerve, and you will fight to keep yourself upright.

Today I succeeded in staying upright all the way in, but it was one of those rides during which the heaviness and treachery of the fresh and drifted snow allow you to hardly notice that you're riding into a northwest wind. I try to do this without dropping into the lowest gear, because if you do that, you know you're in a kind of extreme state. If the conditions get more difficult, there's no way that the machine will be able to help you make it easier. I did manage to keep it out of the low gear on this ride, but just. Completing a ride like this by keeping upright the whole way, both ways, not even touching a foot down, guarantees that the day will be a good one. And it was.

The ride in:           Temp -11'C Wind 25 ks NNE
The ride home:     Temp -12'C Wind 25 ks NNW

* I have used studded tires when I road all year in Winnipeg. It made some sense then, because there was much more likelihood of iced roads. Out here in the sticks there isn't any salt on the roads and there also isn't the same kind of freezing and thawing that you get on city streets. So studded tires are really only helpful on two or three days a year, and on the other days they're just expensive tires that are wearing out fast, and slowing you down (because there's a lot more friction). So out here I just commit myself to the occasional spill, which will be acceptable because I won't be in traffic, and falls in winter are actually slow, nearly graceful, affairs!

Gatherings and conversations? Hmmm. Local sports team? Anyone?

It's coming on Christmas and there will be ample time around gatherings dinner table to have conversations. Some of you may even be seated around tables with people with whom you will disagree on various political and religious topics. How will you survive? Well, that's a bit of drastic characterization. Perhaps I should rephrase this as, "How will you have a conversation, and enjoy it, and feel that you've come away with a better understanding of the person with whom you've been talking?"

It can be so hard to have a reasonable conversation with people about matters of consequence and substance. Why am I dismissive and uncharitable to people who, when they express their thinking on an issue, seem to me to be, well, off? Really I'd like to be able to engage in a "dance me to the end of love" conversation with them, but I expect that we'd soon be doing the old chacha right past one another. And thus dancing will not lead to ... a good conversation.

So I guess that means we'll end up talking about the Leafs or the Canadiens or whatever. And in this way perhaps we can say that a local pro-sports franchise could save your world. If only we could get those Iraqis and Afghanis big enough TVs with satellite packages including ESPN. After today's football game there would be a kind of post-coital buzz and sleepy harmony in the world. Sure one of us would have lost, and one of us would have won, but we'd both be secure in the knowledge that at another time this same game would resume, and the rules would be the same, and there would be dancing girls on the sidelines (maybe even in the snow), and buckets of chips and drinks for all. So much like heaven don't you think? Even if you're a Vikings fan (14-40 to the Bears tonight). Poor Brett? Nah. Nobody gets too much heaven no more.

The ride in:          Temp -17 Wind SE 20 ks
The ride home:    Temp -11 Wind NE 20 ks

I have not been regular

Okay, I admit it. I've missed a few days. My rationale has gone something along the lines of, I don't want to bore you with things that are not worth reading. Which ultimately means, since that hasn't stopped me before, that I'm in a blogging slump. I think it's the pre-holiday blues.

I re-watched The Lord of the Rings trilogy though, to remind myself why it's pretty great. Which it is.

And this is a pretty good short film, set to Radiohead's Creep.

And those guys over at The Onion are pretty funny too.

Anyway, hopefully this Christmas we'll get to do a bit of this:

The dishes

She's away. He peruses the scene as he brings the now empty cereal bowl to the counter by the sink and puts it down. She'll be home in less than an hour maybe. She's not his mom, but sometimes ... well, you know, these things loom. Memories hover. It's like whether she knows it or not there's this role that she steps into and it can't be helped. It can't be changed.

As he clears the sink and fills it with hot water he tells himself that it's not just a cliche, it's a function. It's good to do this, more than just to do it for her, but to do it for the house, for the economy of the house. The pans and the soaking fryer, the zester, the knives turn the water to a deep-brown slurry by the time he's done.

She drives up as he finishes. Quick, so as not to be found out, he drains the sink, rinses it clean of the detritus of the deed, dries his hands and sits down in front of his notebook. He picks up his pen and writes, "She's away."

The ride in:         Temp -9'C Wind SE 12 ks
The ride home:   Temp -9'C Wind SE 12 ks

Guitar players anyone?

Some guy on Metafilter posted this live guitar collaboration between Carlos Santana and Eric Clapton. I bit and listened to most of it but, frankly, it bored me. I thought Santana outplayed Clapton, but neither of them were interesting.

I don't mind this though! Chet Atkins, Jerry Douglas, and Bela Fleck ... really !!

My oh my how my tastes have changed/expanded!

Got any string pickers you like?

The ride in:        Temp -17'C Wind SSE 20 ks
The ride home:  Temp -15'C Wind SE 15 ks

Not feeling it

He sat at the table, at the keyboard, waiting. For the feeling.

It didn't arrive.

The ride in:         Temp -26'C Wind NE light
The ride home:   Temp -22'C Wind SSE 25 ks

The new(ish) ride

There is no one perfect bicycle. There are bikes that are better suited for various cycling exploits, but bicycle-building is about compromise (resources and range of use) and taste (rider preference).

My compromises were based on my modest budget, my aim to reduce the number of ridable bikes (I know I know, WHY would I want to do that - but certain family pressures must be heeded) in my stable to three, my need for a quality commuter, and my desire for a bike to race cyclocross. Since I already have a dedicated road bike that I like and do not want to sell, and a hardtail mountain bike that does the job and is too useful to ditch, this new bike is supposed to pick up the slack.

Frame
After much deliberation I decided to go with an aluminum frame (for weight and corrosion resistance), so I purchased this used Scattante XRL cross frame with a carbon fork and FSA headset on ebay (150 plus shipping and duty). Since a carbon fork is not going to manage our winters too well, I purchased a steel fork from Back Alley Cycle (40), the local bike shop.

Wheels
I found a pair of new Mavic Open Pro wheels on Ultegra hubs on ebay for 180 plus shipping. These are good wheels. Since I blew a spoke holder on the rear hub of my Mavic Aksiums on my road bike this summer, and the other local bike shop (Altona Farm Service) replaced it with a Mavic CXP22 wheel on a 105 hub - not the same quality - I chose to put this wheel on this new bike, along with the front Open Pro. (I put the Open Pro Ultegra rear wheel on the road bike). The tires are Schwalbe CX Pros, which I already had.

Brakes
The brakes are Avid Shorty 4s from Back Alley, and the levers are from an old Norco Magnum from a way back (a solid bike that has done yeoman work, now put out to pasture).

Drivetrain
The cranks are Sugino ALPs from my mid 80s Fuji road bike (now converted to a single speed commuter and gifted to Genevieve for use in the city). I'm going with a single chainring up front (42T). The rear cassette, an SRAM 11-32, 8 speed and the derailleur, Deore MTB, are from the Farm Service. The chain is a few months old, from the Fuji, and the shifter is an SRAM MRX gripshift from Back Alley.

The rest
The bars are KORE flat bars, with KHS grips (both from Back Alley). The seatpost is an Axiom alloy (from Farm Service) and the seat is my long-suffering Velo-sport leather saddle from I don't know how long ago.

I will ride this bike a lot. I rode it into town and back yesterday (to the South Village Invitational) and, besides the few requisite adjustments, it's great. It rolls well, and brakes smoothly, and for all the quirkiness of a gripshift, I like it's style! (That's a taste thing.) I will likely put on drop bars and different brake levers when I change to the carbon fork for summer. So the bike will have a different summer and winter configuration.

All in all, I like (love!) building bikes.

A new ride's a comin'

I've been collecting the pieces of a bike I'm building, out of parts I have, and new and used parts I'm buying. It looks like, by the weekend, I'll have a 700 c cross-commuter: aluminum frame (Scattante XRL cross), steel fork for winter and carbon for summer, straight flat bar, single chain ring up front (42T) and 8 gears (11 to 32 SRAM) at the back, a Deore derailleur with an SRAM MRX gripshift, cantilever brakes (avid shorties), a Mavic CXP 22 rear wheel on a 105 hub, and a Mavic Open Pro front wheel on an Ultegra hub. So it ain't cheap, but it ain't uber expensive either. I intend to use it for all year commuting, and for some cross racing in the Fall. Should be good. At least I'm looking forward to it!

When it's done I'll show ya.

The ride in (on the ol' Fuji modified roadie):    Temp 10'C Wind SSE 20 ks
The ride home:                                               Temp 6'C Wind NW 30 ks
(a pretty good day for a ride!)
  

We pull even!

So after a smart start, and then a three game slump, we're back in winning form with a two winning streak. We are now 3 and 3 at the old Curling Club. Tonight's outing was shut out and a shut down, after 5 ends, of worthy opponents who had one of those nights. Not that we didn't curl well - we were in fact unstoppable - but our worthy foes deserved better.

Don't we all? Really?

And thanks to Dan H I offer you these two YouTube moments of simple pleasure, at the expense of well-meaning, well, simpletons.

Part one and part two.

The ride in:           Temp -17'C Wind 15 ks SSE
The ride home:     Temp -15'C Wind 25 ks SSE

the snowman - revisited

The snowman grinned malevolently as the wind whipped and the snow swirled. Wind chill was no concern of his, though the crunch of minus thirty slowed him somewhat. Still, he could endure the blizzard for as long as it took. Laughing now into the howling gale he raised those thin black arms skyward and called for this menace to run unabated for forty days.

What could the Kreuzer’s do but sing in their four-door sedan, the yellow lines of the highway, long disappeared into the white? Mister believed he’d pulled off to the shoulder. He’d thought he’d heard the crunch of the gravel shoulder beneath the snow tires he’d taken care to install the weekend before. But what good were snow tires if you couldn’t see the road? So it was, with the candles and blankets that Missus always stowed in the trunk, that the four of them hunkered down to wait it out.

The snowplow found them first. He’d slowed just enough to keep it on the road after the collision. Still the plow blade divided the car up through the back seat. Not that it made much difference. The carbon monoxide had done the hard work.

Arriving at the Kreuzer’s home, the officer wondered at the two coal lumps lying atop the drift that covered the front door. He told the others, “It was like Frosty’d been buried alive."

The ride in:             Temp -17'C Wind 16 ks NNE

The ride home:       Temp -16'C Wind 15 ks NNW

the snowman

The snowman grins malevolently as he rolls just beyond the reach of his nattily attired narrator. "I hate adverbs," he spits, sending a coal tooth flying. "I know what you want! You want happy! You want children playing and all manner of drivel. Well you're not going to get it," he yells and turns again to roll off the yard and down the street. "This seasonal crap is gonna end in chaos this year, brother!" he says, labouring and rolling determinedly.

Undaunted by cold or animosity, the narrator pursues from a safe distance. Calling out occasional phrases to his slow-fleeing dissident: "How lovely art thy dwelling places" and "How beautiful are the feet of them." He knows that his taunts aggravate. And, if you'd been watching him as I was, you'd have noted his smile. You would have also noted the spade he carried behind his back. Not much use in clearing driveways, but useful for other tasks. Resolutely he follows, grinning at the epithets spewing from the round-headed rebel. "You're a bunch of users and abusers! You build us up to watch us whither in the heat! What do you think of us then, when Spring comes around?"

Charity, the narrator thinks now, even saying it as he nears the fugitive. It's for the greater good, he says as he grips the spade with two hands, swinging at the soft centre, working his way up and down, destroying his creation, bestrewn on the sidewalk, buried alive.


 
The ride in:        drove the Honda in for repair

The ride home:        Temp -16'C Wind E 10 ks

Granite is hard!

I've sat at this granite table and eaten supper, done some writing, and now I'm typing too. Each of these things is a different experience when you do it on something as hard and flat as this. Even typing on the laptop feels more firm! And it has a ring to it. If you knock on it, it sings; it has a tone.

So yeah, it's pretty cool! And hard.

I read an interesting essay, Reality A and Reality B on the nature of fiction writing, and reading, post 9/11, by Haruki Murakami in the NYT. The most interesting (to me) observation he makes is this,

Let’s call the world we actually have now Reality A and the world that we might have had if 9/11 had never happened Reality B. Then we can’t help but notice that the world of Reality B appears to be realer and more rational than the world of Reality A. To put it in different terms, we are living a world that has an even lower level of reality than the unreal world. What can we possibly call this if not “chaos”?

Interesting. From this he goes on to notice what I've sensed too, especially among young readers. They tend to take things at face value, rather than as hypothetical. That is, in light of the fact of the otherworldy, Hollywood-action-film-esque chaos of two airliners hitting, and utterly destroying, two steel and glass towers, what can be fiction anymore? I don't know if Japanese has a phrase that works like "truth is stranger than fiction" but that's some of what he's getting at. So, in a real-life context where the unimaginable has become not only possible, but has been demonstrated for us, we might begin to read fiction in a different way. Incredulity is off the table, since everything is now potentially real. In this milieu, the reader simply tries to negotiate the fiction, as he would negotiate fact. He tries to take it all in, but not necessarily as a symbolic whole. That mode of reading has been trumped, or overrun, by a kind of hyper-literalism.

Similarly, William Gibson, in an interview at NY Magazine muses on terrorism as a brand, and our pre-occupation (and his) with physical stuff.

Just like our new table. Very hard. Nearly inconceivable. Yet, here it is before me.    

At long last!

So here's the way it went.

The wood is to block the top on the cart
(this'll make sense later).

Todd and the Deere lifting the top.

Holding steady.

Entering.

Needing an adjustment: the chains were too long,
so we had to put the top down, twist the straps and
wrap the chains tighter around the boom.

It's tight but it's going to fit ...

... we think. But it's tipping down and needs ...

... a counter-weight!

It's in ... basically ...

... for the most part ...

... yes, the cyclops has delivered.

As you can see, we're moving so fast here
the camera can't keep up.

Light as a feather ... 

... and ...

... it's down. 

After a strap adjustment, the cyclops will lift it again ...

Such an agreeable cyclops.

Up she rises once again ...

... let the blocking begin.

You can never have too much wood,
when you're moving stone.

If you keep your eyes shut,
you feel stronger.

It's on the cart; now Dennis, Todd, and Paul will do the work.

Actually there were a few other guys around too.

Harry's worried it might fly away.

Looking up, looking down. What exactly are we doing here.

Todd steers. 

And steers.

This might work.

But it looks like we'll actually have to lift it. 

Yup, we'll have to lift it.

But how? And when? Let's do it all together okay?
All on the same page?! 

Yes, between then and now, we lifted and walked it over,
and set it down!

Now we've gotta get it set just right.

Even more just right.
Are we all trying to do different things?
(Note the way the fingers are pointing.)

And it's on.

You don't just slide it into place ...

... you've gotta use bars and shims and rollers, and ... 

TADAAA!

Todd and Paul and Margruite thank:
Dick (he'll get paid too), Dennis, Dale, Harry, Warren, and Terry for being crazy enough to show up when we called at the last minute! We owe you!

(Bekah took the photos.)

Twitter?

Why did I do it? A challenge from a colleague to try using it as a medium to communicate more immediately with students. Of course it means that students will need to be tweeting too. Oh my, it all sounds so dumb.

Remember the first time you heard someone use the "word" facebook, as they tried to describe what that thing was. Didn't you think that was the dumbest sounding word you'd ever heard. I did. It wasn't the concept of facebook that made me think stooopid, it was the way the name sounded. A clunky, heavy-handed metaphor. The kind of metaphor a scientist or mathematician might think was "poetic". Because of course he/she'd heard the phrase, "your face is an open book" and she/he thought, well my goodness, what could be more apt as a name for a thingy that puts your face on the web? Anyone with a poetic sense will immediately wince at the bluntness of it. FACEbook. That's just too damn obvious. Too damn "hit me over the head with it" heavy-handed.

And isn't that just the way with the new social media. It's just too damn heavy-handed. Twitter! We're just all a-twitter aren't we? Chirp chirp chirp. Geez! It's so juvenile and clever and bore-itself-into-your-sorry-brain-like-the-acid-blood-of-an-alien obvious.

Anyway, here, verbatim, is my first tweet:

Just lit a fire. Thinking about lifting 1500#s of stone table top onto the base tomorrow pm. Holy Moley it might actually happen!

Which segues me into the excitingness that may well be the long awaited completion of a stone table purchase. All going well we will have pictures of the process and the product, tomorrow by this time.

If you must know, I'm plain old Paul Krahn on twitter. If you want to follow me, you're nuts.

The ride in:            Temp -12'C Wind 20 ks NW
                             (flatted after 3.5 miles and had to run the last 1.5)
The ride home:      Temp -15'C Wind 20 ks NNW

The Taste of Tea

You don't need plot to tell a story. Well, not this sort of story. Strictly speaking, this film unfurls the lives of one family of six, and if you'd isolate each character - for each of them get full treatment - you'd see six plots interwoven into the over-arching action of "loving family." In a nutshell, perhaps better, in a teacup, or maybe even in the tea leaves, here are the six plots.

A young girl struggles to accept, and let go of, the larger than life-sized alter-ego; she does it by finally completing a full flip on a horizontal bar.

A teenage boy learns to accept himself and fall in love, through a simple game-play ritual forced on him by his father; the girl of his affection plays the game too in an after-school club, and he's good at the game.

A grown son returns home and meets his high school love; he leaves once again and finds satisfaction in his work.

A father helps others through his hypnotism; he admits to a patient that his joy device was a telephone.

A mother finds that, with hard work, she can draw anime and be a mom; she is discovered, screens a short film, and re-defines herself.

A grandfather conducts it all, observing, supporting, and entertaining them all; after he finishes a gift for each of them, he passes away.

This film is long on time, big on imagination, delightful in sound, serene in colour (for the most part), and hilarious as often as it is serious. Quirky, yes. Rewarding, absolutely.

Today was our first snow-day of the school year. Enough snowfall and wind to stop the buses. Snow-days are so nice. Need we say more?

Heading over to light a fire

It's windy out here today, and the forecast is for more of the same windiness tomorrow. The old barn is ticking and creaking. The best thing to do on a night like this is to light a fire, and then to bed and a good book (I'm liking Herzog).

Right now the wind is a steady 45+ ks, gusting to more than 60 ks; it'll be the same tomorrow. The ride in will be tough again. At least it's not that cold.

The ride in:         Temp -6'C Wind 35+ks NNW
The ride home:   Temp -12'C Wind 40+ks NNW

Judas in the MCC

The morning of the day before the funeral, after he and his father and father-in-law cut the carcass down and heap it on top of a pile of dry brush they've collected, and light it, they watch the pyre spiral the smoke of burning meat and singeing hide - the smell of offering that reminds David of the Sunday school stories Mrs. Gerbrandt read of killing and burning animals for atonement. Then, as now, he could only remember the smell of burning hair.

He leaves the fathers and heads into the workshop. Picks up the knife from the bench where it's been lying unsheathed for three days. In the basement bathroom he runs the hot water and holds it under the stream. The dried blood - he can't think any further when he looks at it - takes some time, is it seconds? minutes? to wash off. Satisfied, without drying the blade, he walks out into the November sun, shakes the water off of it outside, and gets into his truck.

He drives into town with it lying on the seat beside him. As if they know it's there, no one waves to him as he drives by. He wonders if he's taken a wrong turn into a different town. That this is not the place he lives and works. No heads nod. No fingers rise off the wheel to greet him. He drives on, invisible.

Though he can't sort it out, he drives until he finds he's parked at the Thrift store, picked up the sheathed knife, and walked into the store. At the counter he stops, waiting for the old women volunteers there to see. He wants to know that he exists. When he looks up and sees that they know him, he places the knife on the arborite in front of them, still covering it with his hand. As they catch his eye, they turn away.

He keeps looking at them, at their gray heads, because he wants someone to meet his eyes, but he gets no offers. So he pulls his hand away from it and says, quiet first, then louder, "I found this knife in this store, in the kitchen section, and I paid for it. But I don't need it anymore. Please take it back."

He repeats these sentences three times before he turns and walks out.    

MOvember

So here's the thing. Do I always have to go against the grain? You know? Will I always be

still runnin'
still runnin'
against the wind

Case in point (whatever that little three word cliche bomb means): It's MOvember, an excuse to grow facial hair for a good cause. Or just a ... good, 'cause I want to grow facial hair. Anyway, the dictum is to grow a 'stache. A MOustache. Hence the MOnicker MOvember. Get it?

Here's what I done:

MOtten chops!

It's all rather self-serving really (of course it is). Margruite, though she doesn't mind the look of a moustache, doesn't much like the feel of it. So, though she doesn't much like the look of chops, she can't complain about the feel.

Otherwise the reviews have been rather positive. What think you? Werewolf? Wolverine? Mad Dog Vachon? Planet of the Apes? Bringing out my inner simian?

I'd appreciate your advice on taking these babies past MOvember.

Thanks.