This stuff happened like a month ago, but I've been... preoccupied, and haven't taken the opportunity to share this (or anything else) with you, my faithful SG friends.
My imaginary friends came to life! And they're made of meat!
So I'm in this motorcycle cult, and they've been after me for years to make it out to a gathering. I've always had to beg off. It's just too far for me to ride, I'm too sick and too broke, blah bleh bluh. So some of these fucksticks pooled their cash monies and bought me a plane ticket to something called DOOOOOOOOOM!!
Seriously, I felt like I'd won the lottery or something. "We're gonna fly your gimpy, impoverished ass to this cult meeting and put you on an exotic Italian race bike and bomb around on great twisty roads, then pour absinthe down your gullet."
I was deeply honored, humbled to my sticky, gooey core.
A large part of the weekend was spent trying to put faces with names and names with screen names (still working at that), but I like the hell out of everyone I met.
My face hurt for weeks from all the smiling! Seriously, I haven't smiled that much in YEARS.
Another large part of the weekend was spent milling around the parking lot in varying degrees of hangover, looking at bikes, sitting on bikes, talking about bikes, wrenching on bikes, riding bikes...
One guy rode from Chicago to Gettysburg with a busted headlight, so a couple of us fixed it while he slept in.
We all rode over to this scooter rally, and it was a fucking HOOT!! Scooteristi really know how to put on a shindig!
A buddy lent me his bike -- first time I've been on a scooter in decades -- and I ran the gymkhana course. I'm certain I got zero points for skill, but judging from crowd reaction I think I must've shown some style or something. I'm sure it was good for comedic effect if nothing else.
Retarded levels of hooligan fun!
I fucking love this photo! It's been my desktop wallpaper ever since I got back.
The Cool Kids:
Dipstick Jimmy:
aka TRON:
This guy doesn't know it, but he's about to crash in a scooter race, fracture his skull, get a concussion and require stitches.
On the verge of tragedy:
His crash was a bummer, but he's come out alright it seems, and his deal was the only bit of real fuckshit the whole weekend. Glad he's okay!
Just a few of the cool-ass motherfuckers I met...
This guy assures me that I'm nicer than I think I am.
Our lovely bartender.
I really loved The Oasis! Somebody left a pack of smokes at the base of this lamp. A buddy and I placed beers there, and it somehow never ran out of beer or smokes...
My friend brought a bottle of absinthe, and it didn't seem to agree with him...
As much as I love licorice, that green shit truly is vile! Not as bad as his mint/chili liqueur, which was genuinely awful. My favorite flammable libation of the weekend is still the double espresso vodka, I'm gonna have to find me some of that!
And then there were the bikes! Ohhhh, what wonderful motorcycles there were!
I spent the majority of the weekend staring at this bike. It's just so beautiful!
If I wasn't riding it, walking around it, looking at it, touching it, looking at it some more, I was talking about it. (I told an elderly woman allllll about it on the flight home.)
The 999 is a harsh mistress, an Italian supermodel with very long legs and razor sharp hip bones and a penchant for S&M. Abject misery to ride... until you turn up the volume knob and that hyperspace thing happens! Suddenly, you find yourself somewhere you hadn't planned to be just yet. It was terrible to ride and I loved it!
I got to ride a variety of bikes this weekend. The Ducati, a Triumph Speedmaster with a hotrod motor, a Suzuki Bandit 1200, the 883 Sportster we fixed the headlight on, a Moto Guzzi V11 California... but I think the funnest bike I rode all weekend was a Honda NT650! Sure, I looked like a monkey fucking a football, but after the Ducati that little NT650 was so friendly! Not super powerful, a bit cramped but just a blast to throw into corners!
I loved every bit of it, even the parts that kinda freaked me out... It was an ADVENTURE!!
I hate to fly. I used to love it, but I got bigger and the planes got smaller, and it turns out I have a touch of claustrophobia (I chalk that up to being cuffed and stuffed in the back of a cop car with two similarly beefy miscreants and left to stew in our juices for a few hours with the heater cranked WFO. That was back in about '95, and I haven't been the same since.) TOTALLY worth it to get to DOOM!!
Same thing when my buddy marched me 100 yards from his domicile to the kickass coffee shop that's about as big as a postage stamp with all these tiny people milling about. I stood there waiting for my mocha to arrive, wishing I was smaller, wishing I'd ordered just plain coffee, feeling the first tinges of a panic attack start to tickle the back of my neck, breaking out in a sweat. Couldn't get out of there fast enough, just glad I didn't knock anybody over upon my exit. TOTALLY worth it for the excellent mocha!
I had to walk to the train station about a mile from there, catch a train to the airport. I'd thought about taking a cab to save my knees, but I'm glad I didn't because just a few blocks into the walk I met a girl coming up the sidewalk, a girl I used to know on SG years ago! Small fucking world, huh?
The best part of the trip? Meeting my fellow cultists! It was a little overwhelming meeting all these people, it's usually just me, my elderly father, two cats, various random deer, turkeys, raccoons, 'possum, skunks, coyotes, etc. I'm sure some thought I was a jerk because I couldn't remember their names, but that's the most people I've met since... since...
I got to ride some great roads on a variety of bikes, which gave me fresh perspective on my own bike. My riding skills were challenged, periods of exultant glee punctuated with moments of genuine terror, and I think I'm a better rider for it. I took my own bike to my usual destination (the only curves around here) a couple days after I got back. For the first couple miles, I thought my back brake must be dragging, my bike seemed so slow and heavy. Then I remembered that it's an old bike and needs to be flogged a bit to get it to dance. After that, I found myself attacking turns with renewed gusto. I find it shocking how much my antique wheels & tires weigh! That 19" front is a real gyroscope, not nearly so flickable as I'd grown to think. Riding that Ducati didn't ruin me for my bike, but gave me a bit of perspective. They're equally uncomfortable, but the Ducati's seat gets super duper fucking hot! The exhaust runs right underneath it, and it cooked my balls!
The worst part of the whole trip? That's easy: Coming home.
I held off on starting the injections until I got back from my trip, and it made me sooo sick!! I don't care for it AT ALL. I only puked a little, but the nausea, pain and fatigue were all over me all the time. I took it for a couple weeks, then just couldn't bring myself to continue. I sat there with the loaded syringe for a long time, then finally squirted that vile poison in the toilet, where it belongs. I go back to the doctor tomorrow, I plan on talking long term medication strategy that doesn't make me feel worse than the disease. I lost about three weeks, just didn't feel like doing jack diddly fuckall.
My imaginary friends came to life! And they're made of meat!
So I'm in this motorcycle cult, and they've been after me for years to make it out to a gathering. I've always had to beg off. It's just too far for me to ride, I'm too sick and too broke, blah bleh bluh. So some of these fucksticks pooled their cash monies and bought me a plane ticket to something called DOOOOOOOOOM!!
Seriously, I felt like I'd won the lottery or something. "We're gonna fly your gimpy, impoverished ass to this cult meeting and put you on an exotic Italian race bike and bomb around on great twisty roads, then pour absinthe down your gullet."
I was deeply honored, humbled to my sticky, gooey core.
A large part of the weekend was spent trying to put faces with names and names with screen names (still working at that), but I like the hell out of everyone I met.
My face hurt for weeks from all the smiling! Seriously, I haven't smiled that much in YEARS.
Another large part of the weekend was spent milling around the parking lot in varying degrees of hangover, looking at bikes, sitting on bikes, talking about bikes, wrenching on bikes, riding bikes...
One guy rode from Chicago to Gettysburg with a busted headlight, so a couple of us fixed it while he slept in.
We all rode over to this scooter rally, and it was a fucking HOOT!! Scooteristi really know how to put on a shindig!
A buddy lent me his bike -- first time I've been on a scooter in decades -- and I ran the gymkhana course. I'm certain I got zero points for skill, but judging from crowd reaction I think I must've shown some style or something. I'm sure it was good for comedic effect if nothing else.
Retarded levels of hooligan fun!
I fucking love this photo! It's been my desktop wallpaper ever since I got back.
The Cool Kids:
Dipstick Jimmy:
aka TRON:
This guy doesn't know it, but he's about to crash in a scooter race, fracture his skull, get a concussion and require stitches.
On the verge of tragedy:
His crash was a bummer, but he's come out alright it seems, and his deal was the only bit of real fuckshit the whole weekend. Glad he's okay!
Just a few of the cool-ass motherfuckers I met...
This guy assures me that I'm nicer than I think I am.
Our lovely bartender.
I really loved The Oasis! Somebody left a pack of smokes at the base of this lamp. A buddy and I placed beers there, and it somehow never ran out of beer or smokes...
My friend brought a bottle of absinthe, and it didn't seem to agree with him...
As much as I love licorice, that green shit truly is vile! Not as bad as his mint/chili liqueur, which was genuinely awful. My favorite flammable libation of the weekend is still the double espresso vodka, I'm gonna have to find me some of that!
And then there were the bikes! Ohhhh, what wonderful motorcycles there were!
I spent the majority of the weekend staring at this bike. It's just so beautiful!
If I wasn't riding it, walking around it, looking at it, touching it, looking at it some more, I was talking about it. (I told an elderly woman allllll about it on the flight home.)
The 999 is a harsh mistress, an Italian supermodel with very long legs and razor sharp hip bones and a penchant for S&M. Abject misery to ride... until you turn up the volume knob and that hyperspace thing happens! Suddenly, you find yourself somewhere you hadn't planned to be just yet. It was terrible to ride and I loved it!
I got to ride a variety of bikes this weekend. The Ducati, a Triumph Speedmaster with a hotrod motor, a Suzuki Bandit 1200, the 883 Sportster we fixed the headlight on, a Moto Guzzi V11 California... but I think the funnest bike I rode all weekend was a Honda NT650! Sure, I looked like a monkey fucking a football, but after the Ducati that little NT650 was so friendly! Not super powerful, a bit cramped but just a blast to throw into corners!
I loved every bit of it, even the parts that kinda freaked me out... It was an ADVENTURE!!
I hate to fly. I used to love it, but I got bigger and the planes got smaller, and it turns out I have a touch of claustrophobia (I chalk that up to being cuffed and stuffed in the back of a cop car with two similarly beefy miscreants and left to stew in our juices for a few hours with the heater cranked WFO. That was back in about '95, and I haven't been the same since.) TOTALLY worth it to get to DOOM!!
Same thing when my buddy marched me 100 yards from his domicile to the kickass coffee shop that's about as big as a postage stamp with all these tiny people milling about. I stood there waiting for my mocha to arrive, wishing I was smaller, wishing I'd ordered just plain coffee, feeling the first tinges of a panic attack start to tickle the back of my neck, breaking out in a sweat. Couldn't get out of there fast enough, just glad I didn't knock anybody over upon my exit. TOTALLY worth it for the excellent mocha!
I had to walk to the train station about a mile from there, catch a train to the airport. I'd thought about taking a cab to save my knees, but I'm glad I didn't because just a few blocks into the walk I met a girl coming up the sidewalk, a girl I used to know on SG years ago! Small fucking world, huh?
The best part of the trip? Meeting my fellow cultists! It was a little overwhelming meeting all these people, it's usually just me, my elderly father, two cats, various random deer, turkeys, raccoons, 'possum, skunks, coyotes, etc. I'm sure some thought I was a jerk because I couldn't remember their names, but that's the most people I've met since... since...
I got to ride some great roads on a variety of bikes, which gave me fresh perspective on my own bike. My riding skills were challenged, periods of exultant glee punctuated with moments of genuine terror, and I think I'm a better rider for it. I took my own bike to my usual destination (the only curves around here) a couple days after I got back. For the first couple miles, I thought my back brake must be dragging, my bike seemed so slow and heavy. Then I remembered that it's an old bike and needs to be flogged a bit to get it to dance. After that, I found myself attacking turns with renewed gusto. I find it shocking how much my antique wheels & tires weigh! That 19" front is a real gyroscope, not nearly so flickable as I'd grown to think. Riding that Ducati didn't ruin me for my bike, but gave me a bit of perspective. They're equally uncomfortable, but the Ducati's seat gets super duper fucking hot! The exhaust runs right underneath it, and it cooked my balls!
The worst part of the whole trip? That's easy: Coming home.
I held off on starting the injections until I got back from my trip, and it made me sooo sick!! I don't care for it AT ALL. I only puked a little, but the nausea, pain and fatigue were all over me all the time. I took it for a couple weeks, then just couldn't bring myself to continue. I sat there with the loaded syringe for a long time, then finally squirted that vile poison in the toilet, where it belongs. I go back to the doctor tomorrow, I plan on talking long term medication strategy that doesn't make me feel worse than the disease. I lost about three weeks, just didn't feel like doing jack diddly fuckall.
My side of an earlier IM conversation:
I love my bike!
I feel like Superman when I'm on that thing in traffic
like I have special powers
running along with the revs steady at about 5 or 6 grand, and then nail it to merge with traffic and it sings so beautifully!
I can really tell a difference since I ported and polished the head
I just came in from a ride to/from dr. appt.
the shot they gave me is kicking in
they're changing my meds
I've been taking these Imuran pills, but they do me no good, just make the pain & fatigue worse, so it's a side effect on top of a symptom
so they're switching me back to Methotrexate, which made me shit & puke like crazy when I took it before, but this time I'll be injecting myself instead of taking pills
so no nausea? maybe?
and they gave me a steroid shot (not the same stuff the sports figures take), so I'll feel like shiiiit for about three days, but this time next week I should be going like gangbusters!!
I love my bike!
I feel like Superman when I'm on that thing in traffic
like I have special powers
running along with the revs steady at about 5 or 6 grand, and then nail it to merge with traffic and it sings so beautifully!
I can really tell a difference since I ported and polished the head
I just came in from a ride to/from dr. appt.
the shot they gave me is kicking in
they're changing my meds
I've been taking these Imuran pills, but they do me no good, just make the pain & fatigue worse, so it's a side effect on top of a symptom
so they're switching me back to Methotrexate, which made me shit & puke like crazy when I took it before, but this time I'll be injecting myself instead of taking pills
so no nausea? maybe?
and they gave me a steroid shot (not the same stuff the sports figures take), so I'll feel like shiiiit for about three days, but this time next week I should be going like gangbusters!!
Guess it's time for an update...
This is the jointer that took the tip of my dad's courting finger, back in the early '90s. Those blades spin at 30,000 RPM, rendering any meat that ventures too close into a fine pink mist.
Dig the grille cloth!
I think this one sums me up, or at least says something about me:
Li'l Red is a pretty competent shop cat:
The amp is finally in one piece, last night was the first time I've fired it up as a unit. First time I've played through this speaker, too, and it's very tight, the doping needs to be limbered up. Brand new Webers sound pretty good out of the box, but sound REALLY good after you play through them for a few hours, so here I'm just banging away at some sloppy power chords.
I still have quite a bit of work to do before the amp is finished. I need to tweak the circuit, get the plate voltages where I want them, fiddle with bypass cap values, etc.
And when did I get so FAT?!?! Oh, prednisone, you've made me your bitch...
This is the jointer that took the tip of my dad's courting finger, back in the early '90s. Those blades spin at 30,000 RPM, rendering any meat that ventures too close into a fine pink mist.
Dig the grille cloth!
I think this one sums me up, or at least says something about me:
Li'l Red is a pretty competent shop cat:
The amp is finally in one piece, last night was the first time I've fired it up as a unit. First time I've played through this speaker, too, and it's very tight, the doping needs to be limbered up. Brand new Webers sound pretty good out of the box, but sound REALLY good after you play through them for a few hours, so here I'm just banging away at some sloppy power chords.
I still have quite a bit of work to do before the amp is finished. I need to tweak the circuit, get the plate voltages where I want them, fiddle with bypass cap values, etc.
And when did I get so FAT?!?! Oh, prednisone, you've made me your bitch...
I've got my nieces learning how to play this, it's a learning tool to teach them how to play keyboards. Plus it's a cool song and video.
I don't know who that wolf is in the breakdown, but I like his style!
Shame they got the quote wrong. That's Nietzsche, not Twain!
PHOTO DUMP, BITCHES!
First off, a kitty cat!
That's Anakin (I call him Mannequin), my cousin's cat. He loves me, but just about all animals do, and I love them right back.
Here's a boat fire I saw at the lake the other day:
Everybody made it off the boat okay, then it exploded and burned and sank.
I rode to my doctor's appointment yesterday, it was fucking HOT! In previous summers, I'd wear boots, helmet, leather jacket and gloves, and I'd sweat my ass off. They'd want a urine sample and I couldn't make water because I'd sweat it all out. My buddy Jaeger gave me his old ballistic mesh armored jacket and it's just wonderful! Once you get in the wind, it's quite comfy and actually gets a bit chilly below 80 degrees! I owe Jaeger a Jaeger Bomb, methinks.
Doc Merrill wasn't there, she's out on one of her globe trotting speaking tours. She did a thing in China last year, think she might be in Europe this time. Nurse Joe took my vitals and we shot the shit for a while. I signed up for more studies, might get another MRI on my hands and maybe a lip biopsy for some DNA research. Fuckin' vampires took a dozen vials of blood out of me!
Okay, more pictures! Here's what I did tonight:
I'm into the sanding phase, where I sand and sand and sand, vacuum up the dust, then sand some more. This wood smells wonderful when you work it, but the dust is bad for ya. I started on the bottom of the cabinet, then I'll do the sides and finally the top. That way I'll have a rhythm built up by the time I get to the part that you look at the most.
The cabinet is western red cedar, and I'm going to shoot it with clear lacquer. To get an idea of what that'd look like, I licked it:
Then I wiped it with rubbing alcohol:
I LOVE THIS WOOD! When I tap on the cabinet, it rings! Western red cedar is used to make the tops of expensive acoustic guitars, it's what's known as a tone wood. It's pretty brittle, so it wouldn't make a roadworthy amp (unless you bought a nice armored road case for it), but it's perfect for home or studio (or even home studio) use. It's only 5 watts, so it'll be pretty loud but shouldn't get the cops called. If you played a gig with a drummer, you'd want to mic the amp up, but should be plenty loud for jamming. I'm pretty happy with the circuit, I've been running it through another speaker cabinet while I build this one, and it fucking rips!
Mocking up placement of the handle and logo.
First off, a kitty cat!
That's Anakin (I call him Mannequin), my cousin's cat. He loves me, but just about all animals do, and I love them right back.
Here's a boat fire I saw at the lake the other day:
Everybody made it off the boat okay, then it exploded and burned and sank.
I rode to my doctor's appointment yesterday, it was fucking HOT! In previous summers, I'd wear boots, helmet, leather jacket and gloves, and I'd sweat my ass off. They'd want a urine sample and I couldn't make water because I'd sweat it all out. My buddy Jaeger gave me his old ballistic mesh armored jacket and it's just wonderful! Once you get in the wind, it's quite comfy and actually gets a bit chilly below 80 degrees! I owe Jaeger a Jaeger Bomb, methinks.
Doc Merrill wasn't there, she's out on one of her globe trotting speaking tours. She did a thing in China last year, think she might be in Europe this time. Nurse Joe took my vitals and we shot the shit for a while. I signed up for more studies, might get another MRI on my hands and maybe a lip biopsy for some DNA research. Fuckin' vampires took a dozen vials of blood out of me!
Okay, more pictures! Here's what I did tonight:
I'm into the sanding phase, where I sand and sand and sand, vacuum up the dust, then sand some more. This wood smells wonderful when you work it, but the dust is bad for ya. I started on the bottom of the cabinet, then I'll do the sides and finally the top. That way I'll have a rhythm built up by the time I get to the part that you look at the most.
The cabinet is western red cedar, and I'm going to shoot it with clear lacquer. To get an idea of what that'd look like, I licked it:
Then I wiped it with rubbing alcohol:
I LOVE THIS WOOD! When I tap on the cabinet, it rings! Western red cedar is used to make the tops of expensive acoustic guitars, it's what's known as a tone wood. It's pretty brittle, so it wouldn't make a roadworthy amp (unless you bought a nice armored road case for it), but it's perfect for home or studio (or even home studio) use. It's only 5 watts, so it'll be pretty loud but shouldn't get the cops called. If you played a gig with a drummer, you'd want to mic the amp up, but should be plenty loud for jamming. I'm pretty happy with the circuit, I've been running it through another speaker cabinet while I build this one, and it fucking rips!
Mocking up placement of the handle and logo.
