Two Piece Fest 2011

I left work about an hour early to go to Two Piece Fest.

This warehouse show boasted 22 Bands, all with two members each, starting at 2pm. All bands had 20 minute sets, and there were two stages for quick changes between bands. There were posted schedules, and the times were adhered to like clockwork. There was an intermission at 7pm that gave me enough time to partake in free food that some housemates had prepared, and still ride a bicycle home, smoke mad weed, and get back in time for more music.

I left work at 3:30pm, and picked up a case of MGD on my way. I dropped off half the case at home, put the rest in my backpack, and headed to the show. It was a highly enjoyable time of music and all-day drinking. Probably hundreds paid to get in. I can't count, but it was a successful show. I was hoping to see the band 1994!, but the cops shut everything down a few hours early.

I was fortunate to witness the set of Peter & Craig who wore huge paper mâché masks decorated as caricatures of themselves. Well executed, and I also liked the music.

Parking in Center City

At 7:21pm I'm in Center City on Pine St, or Locust, or Lombard, or Spruce, or one of the 20-somethings. It definitely takes a lot of time and work to find a place to park. I'm happy that I've mellowed out enough to be able to keep my cool. I'm cussing and muttering shit about suicide and murder, but at the base of it, I'm still reasonable. I'm relaxed. I end up parking medium-far away, and not in a great spot. I've learned this lesson too many times. "Park really far away in a great spot, and ride a bicycle." Well - no cycle this time. So I park and shut up.

I'm here to see Mike Bradley, who I don't see too often when he's dating. Mi amigo, mi amor! I'm excited to see him, and glad that he txt'd me to come over. Mike dates regularly and for long periods of time. He lives in Philly with a cool girl that he deserves, so that makes this trip about catching up as much as hanging out. I drank a lot, then we got a veggie burger. Beautiful night in the city. Warm and breezy. We talked. I slept in my van on some random hairy corner. In spite of traffic and motherfuckers, I slept fine. I got up at 8 and put on some Jack Johnson. I drove back to Kennett Square while everyone else was getting to work.

Vanning toward Philadelphia

After managing to sleep throughout large portions of the entire day, I'm finally moving. A thunderstorm was looking like it was about to kick in, and at the same time Nat Google chatted me that maybe I should head to Philadelphia. So that's what I'm up to. I'm listening to music off my newly reorganized iPod. The random tracks keep on being what I need to hear. Random Face to Face from some 7" included. My watch is beeping from the back of the van. It's not on my person, cause I jumped in a pool over at Shawn's last night, and my watch is still sitting around with all my wet clothes threatening to stink up the back. I've been getting very friendly with sharing my bud, so that's dwindling pretty quick. Lightning fast. I'm thinking I won't need it on my bicycle tour - and sharing is friendly. 40oz to Freedom played on random, and I felt like much less of a geek this time around. My van is big and boss, and I'm having a good time cruising to Philly.

1-95, Pinback

I'm listening to Pinback's "Blue Screen Life" on my iPod. I've been deprived of this album for a long time, because CDs turned into mp3s, and shit fell through the cracks. It reminds me of a pretty long time ago, and it's not a very upbeat album. I like hearing it, because it's one of my favorites - but part of me realizes that I keep listening to the same CDs over and over, and they're not necessarily the best choices. I have so many memories wrapped up in music, and my collection is very tired. All my favorite albums are slathered with inextricable personal context and meaning. Sublime's "40oz to Freedom" is one of the best CDs ever, but I don't need to be listening to it while driving toward Philly in a borrowed minivan that I'm driving because somehow a mild case of depression prevented me from taking care of my crapped out van battery. This dichotomy of lyrics, feelings, and situations makes me feel like a doofus. This is the kind of self psychology that is self deprecating - I admit that I question myself and my standing in life - and might be better tucked into the pages of a personal journal rather than a blog. I'm not trying to be funny. I'm really just trying to explain.

I'm not anxious. I'm not depressed. I'm not witnessing myself from another place. I'm listening to this CD, and taking intermittent calls about bicycles that I've already sold (which is badass). It's hot outside. The heat is a description which thankfully is difficult to mince. Let me try again about myself: I feel void and brainfucked. Does that sound scary? It's not like that. I'm driving along, listening to an album I love, and I'm living the one life which I relish the hell out of because it's the only one I know.

Jonas's yard

Jonas's back yard is a work of art. It's in the thick of Philadelphia, and it's a haven. There is a two story open-air bicycle workshop that turns out wacky welded projects like tall bikes and the experimental ilk. There's a 'hot house' with a fire pit that toasts the little shack-room to a very high temperature. That's a winter thing. The walls are constructed from big old wooden-framed windows. The fire pit vents directly out a welded metal chimney. It's aptly named, this "hot house." There's big tall shady trees that shade everything. The long shady yard is lined on both sides with tall walls, closing in this little paradise. All the building materials and construction stuff are found-things and supplies. There's tables and chairs and more big found stuff. Was that a horse statue? A big welded loud bell setup?

What I'm doing now is sitting around the primary fire pit and grill. We've been eating salmon and scallops and veggie burgers and zucchini. Jonas, Nat, Caroline, Matt and me. I have the best chair, and my bare feet are catching heat off the fire. There's three really good dogs present. The weather is perfect. I'm completely relaxed and satisfied.

Mobile blogger / Jazz bat

I've been sitting around with a laptop on my lap for hours. I've been looking at official videos and live videos from bands. I've been interneting, basically. Which is boring. To type about. But: at 7:21 I was sending a txt message to Google to set up a way to have my camera phone pictures appear online. Mobile blogging. 7:21, dude. That's what I'm up to.

I did manage to finish a bicycle. It was a pretty cheap-o bicycle, but it's running smooth for my $99 asking price. I truly believe someone could enjoy using the hell out of it for a long time. Especially in Philly: park this thing outside and you're set to go. With a u-lock and this bicycle you could get anywhere in Philly any time - smooth and easy, no problem, no worries, no need for Septa or a motorized vickle.

That's how I did it when I was in Philly. Cheap bicycle, tuned up, crushing the world. And by "crushing the world" I mean flying into center city like a bat out of hell. And by "bat out of hell" I mean over-adrenalized clown with a pink piggy helmet cover. Here's a link to the Jazz Latitude. Seriously.

Philadelphia-ing

Matt Klopp is back in town. There's not much to do anywhere, especially on a rainy chilly day like this. We went to Philadelphia. The plan is to drink, pretty much. We stopped at Nat's. Sorry if this is boring, but aside from the thin entertainment usually provided by booze, it was pretty boring for me too. For some day at 7:21 I'll try to be climbing something, or accomplishing something riveting.

Sitting on a porch in Philly

I'm sitting on the porch that's attached to Shelly and her roomates'es row house in West Philly on a side street. It's in the same neighborhood that I used to inhabit when I lived two blocks away with Shelly. Shelly is a couple blocks closer to 40oz beer now, and the porch is nice. There's low key BBQ, and people sitting around, including Jonas. I'm a little out of it, but I'm having a good enough time. Good enough, because I'm doing something rather than nothing.

I arrived a couple hours ago after racing from the bus stop at the 69th Street terminal. The adrenaline was pumping. It's been too long since I've goosed all out in this area, shooting right through traffic down the middle of the street. I'm the kind of guy who does that thing where he tries not to put a foot down when traffic requires a stop. I inch forward and pause until I eventually run out of real estate.

This morning I got up extra early and rode the Diamondback City Bike to work in West Chester from Kennett. This moderately hilly and thoroughly familiar 13 mile route was way more tiring than it is when I'm in decent shape. After I got back to this area last July, I crushed this route. I was still used to 70+ mile days every day. I'm riding 65 miles in a charity event on Sunday, and I'm thinking it might not be so easy. I might only be able to crush some of the route. I'll probably have to crawl for part of it too.

After work was done at 3pm, I took the Diamondback City Bike on the 104 bus to Philly. The Diamondback got to see it's former parking spot - locked to a sign at 46th and Locust - as we whizzed by at a furious pace. I used to leave this same bicycle locked outside 24/7 in an area where bicycles definitely get stolen. That went on through all seasons and all weather. This was my first specifically outdoor bicycle. If it got stolen, I'd only be out about $20-30. I locked it through the frame and the front wheel. The rear wheel was unlocked, but had a bolt on hub. I think the only remaining part from my initial setup is the original (7spd SIS!) rear derailer and a blue piece of cable housing that goes to it from the chainstay cable stop. The original heart is the same. Northroad handlebars on a mountain bicycle with a rack and a milk crate. Friction shifting, bulletproof. Now everything is just nicer. Until two days ago, the DBCB never had a front derailer. I took it off the first time I fixed it up for myself, and decided I didn't need it. If I hit a big hill, I could push the chain to the small ring with my foot. When I got around to it, I could reach down and shift back up with the tip of my index finger. No need to stop. The need for this action was rare. Now I have a Shimano 105 derailer that I got for $10 at the Trexlertown swap. Now that I can shift - I do more. It's nice to pop it in the big ring sometimes, I'll admit. The Shimano bar end shifters in friction mode are awesome on this bicycle. I'm really happy with it.

If you want a 40oz in West Phila, and you are me, you're going to go to Pasqually's. If you want a falafel, you're going to the truck. I didn't go to the truck, but I did make a stop a 'Squally's to make sure it still existed after my absence.

Going to Philly, White Dog, Trexlertown

At 7:21pm I'm driving toward Philadelphia on route 3. I'm picking up Nat and Caroline, and together we'll head to Trexlertown for the spring bicycle swap meet at the velodrome. The swap is tomorrow: we're camping out to avoid a bleary-eyed early drive.

Before all that, I'm going to see Shelly. If you don't know who she is, I'll fill you in. She was my girlfriend for a thousand years and we narrowly missed getting married. It's fine and friendly to talk, but seeing her setup in Philly is seeing a vestige of something familiar that was once also mine. The good thing is I'm actually happier now, and anti-jealous of the living situation. The tripped out and warped part is seeing all of the shit that we owned collectively. The worst is the bed and the dog, and the familiar feeling of laying on the bed with the dog. No: the worst is seeing the dog's face as you walk out the door. Penny. My 9-year-old puppy.

Next I went to a get-together with beer and people who I haven't seen in a little bit. I stayed for a short period, then it was time to hit the road. Nat drove my house while I sat in the chair and Caroline had shot. We heard some NPR. We got to the grass covered field adjacent to the velodrome parking lot around 2am. This is where the overflow parking will be tomorrow when people arrive in a massive influx. Already here are about twenty cars and the tents of other people who came early to avoid a tired A.M. drive. A bunch of hip skinny bicycle dorks, more or less. Nat and Caroline had a tent; I slept in top-comfort inside my mansion. There's nothing like an awesome parking spot and waking up right where you need to be in the morning. Van living: seriously really good.