Waiting for LSD

At 7:21pm, I'm sitting around on the porch over in Avondale. Where Rachel lives. There's a big blowout party tonight with fire and music and drugs. I have an order in for LSD, which should have arrived a couple hours ago. I would have liked to take it early with some sunlight still up so I could see the party materialize. Others started drinking beer early, and I'm not one to sit around when others are drinking, so I had a beer. I'm also not one to have just one beer, so I got another. I'm also one to drink fast and keep going, so I've had seven. The party started before the acid actually arrived. I'd quit drinking hours earlier, and wasn't really drunk when I took a tab and ate it at 9:30. This party would not have made nearly as much sense if Shawn wasn't there, also taking LSD. There were a few others tripping too, and the rest of the party was a fucking mess.

This was strictly an outdoor party. Talk of 100-150 people was heard beforehand, and even then I had an inkling that this figure was outrageously high. It ended up being fifty people max, and those who showed up seemed to be the worst possible. It was as though you took the fifty worst people from a party of 150. This is my perception. What I expected, and what I saw. I was very satisfied. When shit got wacky or uncomfortable, I stood back and watched from afar. When shit cleared up, I'd wander back to friends. I only knew a handful of people, and only got positive energy or had respect for about half a handful. Shawn's friends Ian and Tom stopped by. I got a great sense of calm from Ian. In the approximate five minutes I talked to him I was able to re-re-confirm that I think he is great. His presence was a grounding force of the whole party for me. That's what I told Shawn when he brought it up, and that's how I felt. It's not clear who all these party people were, or if anybody really knew who they were. It looked like a fucking mess with a strobe light to remind you. Someone tripped over an extension cord and the strobe light and music went out. It never came back on either. I'm not sure what that was all about, but I was completely happy about it.

I can't express how comforting it was to have my van parked around the front of the house. I knew the whole time that if I got uncomfortable, or dissatisfied in any way, at any time, I could just go home and listen to music or sit with the doors open and look out over a field or at some trees. I took advantage of my van's water supply, I dropped off my spectacles (unnecessary when trees are moving and faces look satanic either way), and I changed into my favorite long sleeve t-shirt. I had my house there for backup, and it made me feel like the luckiest person alive. But I didn't need to hide.

I was awake and around the fire long after the party died. The other LSD people either left or went inside, and the party drinking/drugs crowd all went home. Eventually it was just me and Shawn and Larkin around the fire all night long, and well into the morning. Larkin doesn't do anything that makes him hallucinate. He's jobless and on unemployment and has a critical drinking problem. He lives in a tent in his parent's backyard, and kind of just wanders the area. He's difficult to communicate with, and makes a lot more sense when I'm on acid. Seriously. I was glad to have these guys to sit around with. There were long comfortable silences punctuated by ideas and uproarious laughter. Then the sun came up for real. Shawn went home around 8, and I went to my van to hide in my blankets.

I'd been coming back to reality for a couple hours, but was still far from normal. I didn't sleep, but I laid down and rest-thought. I sat up around 10am and wanted to communicate with people who I like. I turned my phone on and called Danielle to see if she was relaxing for her whole Saturday. Then I had a brief and awesome explosion of tears because I'm glad that I know Gary and Danielle. I didn't feel like I was ready to look and act normal back at the big house. Danielle didn't answer, but I did get a txt message from my Mom, who never sends txt messages ever. "Aunt Beth's birthday picnic today, be home by 1." I don't like shit getting sprung on me, and I still didn't have any sleep yet. This did not seem very realistic. I was ready to drive by this point, but not at all ready to communicate or act like I was normal. I went home.

I tried slightly to weasel out. I was going to be honest about the facts, but my Dad has a tendency to be a little snippy which makes it easy to just shut the fuck up and go away. However, I know that aside from these circumstances I want to go to family events and know who my family is. I don't know them, and recently there has been increased opportunity to change that. I want to at least show up. At 1pm I was feeling like part of the world again, and I knew it would be fine. I went to the picnic. When I heard anyone talk about being hungry or tired, I couldn't help smiling to myself. I'd been up for nearly 30 hours, and hadn't eaten anything since early the previous day. Sandwiches, broccoli, and cheese n' crackers were perfect. Lemonade. I was ok enough to talk to people and be about as normal as I get. When we got home at 5, I went upstairs to the inside bed, shut the drapes, and didn't get up for 16 hours.

I thought that LSD might teach me something about myself and my current situation. It may have a little bit. What it really did was emphasize what I already know. I don't belong here. I definitely don't belong at Rachel's house. All that happens there is people get really fucked up all the time. It's her parents house, and her mom gets really fucked up with everyone too. Her mom doesn't like the 'F' word, but has no problem smoking weed and having kids drink and smoke and trip acid all over the place. I shouldn't really be hanging out with Rachel either. She can be fun to be around, but my interest in her as a person is purely sexual, and with getting crazy drunk that got kinda ruined too. Plus we can't communicate on any but the most intensely superficial level. If there was a venn diagram of our personalities and every intricacy and detail of who we are and what we stand for - it would look very much like the number 8. When I'm peaking on acid and she's walking around with glow sticks swinging all over her sexy body, I can almost forget the facts. The good thing is I'm not so sure she likes me very much either.

In addition to thinking about spending time at Rachel's, I also thought about being in Kennett in general. I know it's not the best idea. I made a big mistake by getting all of those bicycles over here. What I did was plant roots where I don't want to be. Anything that exists outside of my van is a root in the ground. I planted roots exactly where I don't need to be. I have possessions outside of my van, and I need to seriously work toward the cessation of that. I need to get rid of everything I own. The positive side of this realization is that I already own a van, and I already know what makes me happy. For those who don't live in a van, but who want to - the transition is quite a hurdle. They aren't sure they'll be able to cope with the lifestyle. They've already invested money in furniture and knick-knacky shit to fill enormous spaces. I'm lucky because I don't have all that. I'm happier in a van, and I need to move further to solidify that as the only thing I have to deal with. I need to purify my simplicity.

So - I learned to stay away from Avondale and not plant roots outside my van. I also learned that I am drinking way too much. Of course, I already knew that, and I didn't do anything about it on purpose because it's easier that way. I might still fuck that up - because I usually end up drinking. But I know I shouldn't. It's fun, and often I even feel pretty boasty about it, but overall I feel somewhat ashamed of the excess. Why would I do something so unhealthy - mentally and physically - that makes me feel ashamed? I don't know. I never have.

While I was thinking, I also considered this blog. Ever since I've been turning it less into a 7:21 project, and expanding it to include detailed context of my whole life, I've found some barriers. I want to tell the absolute truth and get to the closest descriptions of my feelings, actions and reality that I possibly can. One snag with this is that there are characters interacting with me, and they might not want their details to be shared. This could be unethical. Or at least uncool. I'm sharing thoughts that I wouldn't even say in person to the person who I'm thinking the thoughts about. That's the same thing as talking about people behind their backs. I hate this kind of gossip. So - I try to focus on my feelings and perceptions instead of making slanderous statements. I'm still not sure people need their business talked about though. That isn't the only reason why the path of full disclosure is difficult. Consider: my parents will read that I was taking LSD, and they might not know anything about LSD. How can the lines of communication be so shut down for 25 years, and now I just open this goofy portal of personal info that we can't even really discuss? How? A blog.

I'll go further and say that I don't believe in God, I'm not sold on organized religion being a very good idea at all, I always wondered why we never talked about God ever outside of church, and my computer screen still looks a little funny from that LSD that I took. So does my cellphone screen.

Anxious, remembering Mexico

I'm sitting around the table on the deck with my parents. Dinner time. We had subs. I've got that same general uncertain feeling. Like I took a deep breath, and I just keep holding it in. I've been constantly going from that shitty feeling to being so happy I just start laughing. Laughing in the vein of "how can things be so good?" Borderline anxiety to pure satisfaction. Same day.

We're sitting around this table, and I'm telling my folks about when I was in Mexico. They didn't know about this. Me and Nat and Shelly were there - not far from the border, driving just south of it, headed west. There was a big empty lake with dirt path access. No water, but mud as far as I could see, bordered by enough hard packed dirt to get a head start. Nat plowed right in, and entertained all of us by seeing how far he could skid sideways into the mud. Much wheel cutting, spinning and jackassery was achieved. That was a good time.

Family time

"Would you like another Flying Fish?"
"Please.." I responded. I said it like "of course."
"beep! beep!" my belt alarm sounded.

When it's something like that, I smile. A random moment - a definite thing - is captured. Not amazing itself, but an otherwise easily forgotten snapshot exists, and context surrounds it.

I was sitting at the head of a figure 8 of two huge tables in a private room at a restaurant called the "Elephant and Castle" in New Jersey. This is a big family get together, and the cast is more complete than I have seen in years. My uncle is visiting from England, and that completes the set of four siblings including my mom. Three sisters and a little brother - my uncle - who is in the states to see his daughter graduate from high school. Cousins are here too. Three out of three sisters who are the daughters of my aunt. Both out of both of the married cousins husbands were also there. And all four of their kids - a boy and a girl for each cousin-husband team. The kids are running batshit, and this is a private room, and that's great. This is nice. Stories are told, and overall it feels pretty solid. Some characters couldn't attend, but this is an impressive little reunion.

Smoking on a porch

Honestly, my watch broke on Sunday. I was plastered, and all kinds of stuff was going on. The little pin that holds the band in place disappeared. So I didn't have any 7:21 beeping for a couple days. Now the watch is attached to my belt with what remains of the band. I don't really like that, but I don't dislike it enough to buy a new watch. I'm just not that guy. So - 7:21, I'm pretty sure I'm hanging out on Rachel's porch. Shawn called me while I was at work - second to final day at pizza job - and asked what was up. I left work early since people don't eat pizza at 3pm anyway. There was a teacher party/meeting at my house. A brief explanation follows:

My parents are teachers, my sister is a teacher, my aunts and uncle teach, my cousins are teachers. It's a real serious teacher family that I'm in. This house sometimes has a gathering of teachers who eat chips and drink a little beer. It's always been that way, and many times the teachers were teachers who taught me. This time there were a lot of new faces. I found out that some of the new faces were younger than my face. Is that funny? I'm going to file that under the ambiguous heading of 'notable.' I noted it. I ate some cheese cubes and broccoli, and was a nice guy.

Shawn picked me up pretty fast, and we went up to the Half Moon Saloon: too early, but fuck it. That's the bar that I've spent too much money at several times very recently. True again, I had five pints and we left without ordering any of the food that was talked about. I wanted some pot. At 7:21, I'm pretty sure I was sitting on Rachel's porch smoking pot.

My mind has been pretty scattered. I wouldn't mind talking about it, but this blog really isn't the time or place. Here's an issue. I started out writing just about what was happening at 7:21. Then I wanted to pour a lot more words out of my fingers, so I did that. I want to be able to describe my thoughts, and explain myself. It's therapeutic for me, and I think there's a value for me to be able to look back at the very specific details of my own life. All that is facts. Sometimes I might we writing about trees without explaining that I'm in the woods. Just remember that everyone is always in the fucking woods, and sometimes trees don't look that interesting when your face is up in the bark. That said, sometimes I'll give you a description of bark.

Books and bounds

I'm still trudging along through "Under the Banner of Heaven" by Jon Krakauer. It's a great book with great descriptions and research just like the other books he's written. For some reason I'm taking this one pretty slow. The last two - "Into the Wild" and "Into Thin Air" went fast. My eyes dissolved the words, and I scraped them up and ate them with a spoon.

Right now, I'm sitting in the Harne Family Minivan '08. My folks are shopping in Wal-Mart, and I'm sticking to the vickle to read while they take care of unknown Wal-Mart business. I'm getting sleepy. I sleep.

It's a good book - but I want to zip ahead to "The Way of the Peaceful Warrior" which I borrowed last night. It looks like something I could dive right into and splash around for awhile. Other books might look like something I could ladle out in carefully measured scoops - or even descend upon ferociously. Some books could be wandered through ponderously, or rejected violently with big sweeping arm motions. There's a lot of latitude when describing how you read a book, so you might as well push the bounds of description.

Sleeper Cycles

7:21 - I'm putting some more shit up for sale on my Sleeper Cycles blog. I was gonna reserve that blog for actual sleeper cycles - bicycles that are all hooked up, but low key - but now I'm just using it for any bicycle thing I have for sale. I like the format.

I still have all of my tools, work bench, charging phone and iPod/boombox sitting outside. That's a product of laziness, and I'll address those items after I get another black and tan. I did manage to make a really cool fixed gear for tall guys who like pink. It totally whips. I'm out of practice, and it's a good thing I put on some pedals with toe clips. Got my ass lifted off the seat a couple times.

7:21 also found me doing all of this stuff on a laptop that my parents got for me, pulling pictures off the SD card from the digital camera which they also got me. It's not my birthday, I think my lazy simplicity just filled them with pity. In any case whatsoever, I'm super happy with this setup, and I'll take it.

Reclining, or Rudge cranks

I just got back from Perkins where I got an asinine breakfast including fried chicken on biscuits with biscuit gravy. No slacking - it also came with two strips of bacon. I couldn't drink my coffee. I'm not at all picky or 'elitist' - it was actually just that bad. Now I'm taking a break from all that to sit on the recliner couch while my mom reads, and my dad stays busy with something for a minute before turning on the end of Jeopardy.

I'm trying to make a decision about whether to keep a blanket on my legs, or go try to put some Rudge cranks on my bare Panasonic frame that I took on my tour last June. I wish I kept up with the 7:21pm project during that tour. I don't think I did. Did I write shit in that little notebook I bought in Quebec? I actually think I did. I'll look into this. In any case, here's more about Rudge cranks and Panasonic frames.

Possible accuracy: Back in the day - before all English 3 speeds were getting made in the Raleigh factory - 3 speeds often had ornate designs in the chainrings. Phillips and J.C. Higgins had their names carved in there. Rudge had a cut out hand, their logo, held palm out. Like "stop." At one point, I bought a set of these cranks off eBay. They're all pitted and rusty, but I got 'em. They're cottered cranks, so I haven't bothered to use them for anything. Aside from the cool hand design, cottered cranks are a considerable downgrade from sealed bottom brackets and square taper. They're way more of a pain to deal with, and you really kinda need a cotter pin press, which nobody has. Except me. I have a cotter pin press because I've nerded out on a lot of 3 speeds. I got mine from BikeSmithDesign in Minnesota. A guy in a basement. Mark. I have never been unable to install or remove a cotter pin since. It's great.

In my spread-out mass of random bicycle stuff, I also have the frame and fork of a Panasonic bicycle that I set up for my tour last June. I rode it from Philly to Val D'or Quebec. It's chromo-4130 double butted. It's great quality, but not in-your-face at all. This frame, as you would expect, has a standard English threaded bottom bracket shell.

Some years ago, I followed directions on Sheldon Brown's website to replace the cottered spindle in the bottom bracket of a Raleigh Twenty with a square tapered one. Now I'm thinking about doing the reverse. I'm considering using a cottered spindle with English threaded cups and installing my Rudge cranks on the Panasonic frame. Completely odd-ball, but that kind of thing appeals to me. It's all just sitting around anyway.

It's also noteworthy that I have a hand built set of 700c 3 speed wheels with a new Sturmey Archer SRF3 hub, and Salsa Delgado rims. I also have a really old Strumey Archer quadrant shifter, alloy northroad handlebars, and probably everything else right down to brand new cotter pins and Sturmey shifter cable. It's been running through my mind for a few days now. If it comes together, it'll be a great goofy bicycle. An elite 3 speed machine, showing respect to the old and the new. The tires shall be 37mm wide - and a radical goofy set of these do I have.

Clearly, I'm more interested in day dreaming about un-marketable yet awesome bicycles than I am in building marketable and smart ones. But I have the parts for both, and I plan to be putting them all together.... soon.... you know.

Kennett. Laptop. Newspaper.

I'm sitting at the laptop that lives in the kitchen of my parents'es house in Kennett Square Pennsylvania. I'm trying to find out how many bicycle the Paris bicycle sharing program has. I'm doing that because I just read an article in the Daily Local about the effort to start a similar bicycle sharing program in Philadelphia. My folks kept the article for me.

I just ate chili with soup crackers, and explained to my parents how badass I am. I rode a 63mi cancer-benefit ride with Nat earlier, and I'm all pumped up and feeling great about it. I was worried that I'd fallen way out of shape, and I'm glad to know that that is not the case. I'm fine, and I'm decent on climbs sometimes. For this ride, I finished my KHS Professional 531 tubes & fork blades racing bicycle. It's a racing bicycle for sure, but a far cry from what 99% of the other riders were using. I was baggy shorts and a soccer jersey with wide 32c tires and convenient friction shifters. They were all expenso-carbon cycle spandexy clacking around with cleats and slim-tire-bumping trying to frustrate a derailer into position. In many ways, this is a rude and unfair characterization. Life continues. My bicycle is King of Bicycles.

Perkins, personal cycles DONE.

I'm sitting at Perkins across from my parents. This is my second meal today, and both were at a diner with egg-based meals and coffee. I ordered an omlette with "lots and lots of broccoli." It turned out great. There was lots and lots of broccoli, and the primary flavor was best case scenario. A whole lot of broccoli spilling all over the omlette, and packing a fat tight tube of gossamer scrambled egg around even more broccoli. Well, now the omlette is done and me and my folks are talking while I continue to drink a carafe of coffee.

Before getting to Perkins I finished my road bicycle. A few things might change or get tweaked, but the KHS Professional is ready to roll. It has Rivendell "Silver" friction shifters mounted on Kelly Take-offs that I purchased a couple years ago when I was living in Boca Raton for 8 months. These takeoffs first graced my custom (used / eBay-bought) Hollands 531-tubing lugged racing bicycle. I talked to Chris Kelly himself on the phone to order them, and we chatted, and he's really nice. Now - after not selling them, and holding onto them for this long, they are on my new 531-tubing lugged racing bicycle. Appropriate to the core. I can't say anything nice enough about these Silver shifters. If you need some good friction shifters for anything - splurge, go for it. They're worth it for a bicycle you care about.

And YO - I finally finished up all the changes I wanted to make to my Diamondback "City Bike" (ride everywhere, do everything bicycle). Right now this bicycle is at it's finest. I'm relieved about this, because I'm probably going to ride it really far relatively soon. Quebec again. I swapped the handlebars for cheap 'Pyramid' brand steel northroad handlebars. These cheap steel handlebars can fit bar end shifters. That's more awesome than anything else I can think of right now. To get the bar end shifters to fit, you have to line up the internal wedge section so that the space between the wedge-pieces lines up with the internal seam that sticks up along the inside of the handle bars. You also need to lubricate the inside of the handlebars with grease and smack the whole deal in with a rubber mallet. It isn't too complicated, but it required some fooling around. Running cable housing under the grips wasn't the easiest thing either. There's a trick for that too, which I'll briefly describe: use a 4th hand tool to squinch the housing into place. So my City Bike (touring, conquering bicycle) now has bar end shifters. I also swapped out the bottom bracket and cranks, replacing them with the same BB and cranks that I used on my (and Nat's till Montreal) tour to Quebec last June (Philly to Val D'or for me). The cranks are Sugino XD-300 (like the XD-600, but with cheaper steel chainrings vs. alloy - same forging). And the crowning jewel, if that's a real term?: A double kickstand by Plescher. These are expensive, but you probably only need to buy one to last your whole life. If you decide to plunk down for it, you probably won't cry about it too much. When both legs of the kickstand are flipped down, the bicycle is held straight up at a 90 degree angle to the ground. No leaning - the front of the bicycle is lifted off the ground, and the support is super strong with no hairy leaning that can get a bicycle knocked over when you even think about breeze as a general concept. This is a sturdy kickstand. Try using a normal kickstand with a loaded bicycle. I don't want to, because falling bicycles are boring and I'm a busy man.

I'll try to post some pictures when I change the basics of who I am and how I typically operate.

Arby's

I'm eating a sammich at Arby's. My parents are sitting across from me. I'm looking over the intersection of routes 1 and 202. First we all went to Kohl's. Now I'm eating this sammich. Next we're going to the AMC to see "Baby Mama." After that, we're getting ice cream.

Challie's with my parents

I'm sitting across from my mom and dad at Challie's in Kennett. I got a buffalo chicken cheese steak with jalapenos. Always with the jalapenos.

October 5th, 2007

I'm sitting on a stool at the counter in the kitchen at my parents' house, where I've been staying for the past three months. Jeopardy is on, and the last question was Renoir. Then my watch beeped. My sister, Cathy, and her husband, Karl, are both over. We're going to have salmon for dinner. I thought that today would be the day that Karl would help me install a door in Truck House. But it's not - hopefully that day is very soon. I'm wearing a black Under Armour shirt that Shelly bought for me for a dollar while she was in Denver. She broke up with me a few days after she gave it to me. I like wearing it because I think it makes me look hot. At this point, I've just finished my second beer. The first was a Saranac IPA, and the second was a Yuengling that I got for free from a 1-800-GOT-JUNK client who might have rebottled something other than Yunengling into the bottles, but I can't be certain. Set up on the deck outside is a telescope that I rescued from work to give to Cathy. I think she was genuinely happy to get it, and we might try to look at something after dinner.

October 4th, 2007

I'm sitting at Perkins with my dad, and I just said something. My watch beeped before he responded. I ordered a broccoli and cheese omlette and asked for lots of broccoli. This omlette isn't on the menu, and broccoli doesn't appear in the 'build your own omlette' ingredients list - but this is the second time I've ordered it with no trouble. It hasn't gotten here yet. I skipped the coffee, and just ordered a water. I've been here many times recently, and this is the first time I haven't ordered coffee. My dad ordered some though. So now he has a whole carafe to himself. Mom goes to Weight Watchers on Thursdays - so it's just me and dad.