You know, it's strange. I saw The Return of the King a few months ago and then started reading the Lord of the Rings books. When I was reading The Return of the King, I couldn't recall any images depicted in the movie in what I was reading.
Now having re-watched the movie, it's pretty much there, with the same dark arts of adaptive screenwriting applied as in the previous films, including the added elements, others greatly diminished, and the one-dimensional, dumbed-down portrayal of characters.
Then I realized why I didn't remember any of the scenes even after seeing the movie at least a few times over the years, all on TV or DVD. While watching this time, at some point my attention started to turn to what I had been doing on the internet, and paying just enough attention to catch what seemed to be the important bits.
I think I did this every time I watched the movie before. With the first two movies, I watched them all the way through. I guess what I'm saying is ultimately, the third movie is . . . boring. And if I had seen it in a theater, I likely would have at some point taken out my phone and started looking at it.
I don't have a phone to look at, but you get the idea. And if I did, I probably really wouldn't do that because it seems to fall under the behaviors that are considered rude. I don't know, maybe it's accepted behavior. I haven't been to the movies in a long time, either.
Again, I don't know how anyone who hasn't read the book had any idea what was going on in the movie, particularly the third movie. Maybe there's the broad outline through which audiences just let themselves be led by the nose, and since they could follow that, they thought they got it and became fans because of the flashy CG visuals and shiny objects. Them bad, them good, fight!, good wins, destroy the ring! destroy evil. Yaaaaaay.
But when I watched it before, I obviously had no idea what was going on and who was who and why were they doing what they were doing, and I started to get bored and paid half attention to the film. Even after reading the book and recognizing who was who and why they were doing what they were doing, which is not necessarily clear in the film, it got boring.
I don't know. I've been saying keep the films and book separate, they're different beasts. The book is legend among its certain audience, the films are historically epic just from the scope of the thing, and I'm not going to retract that, but I just have to note that every time I watched The Return of the King, apparently I got bored.
Thursday, October 04, 2012
Oh my, did I really say that The Two Towers movie was faithful to the book?! Well, the reason why I said that was while reading the book, I could visualize all the scenes as presented in the movie. But the movie is veeeeery different from the book except the main plot points and general direction.
What I don't understand is why there is such a huge following for the movies. Did everyone read the book? If they didn't read the book and are just fans of the movie, how the hell did they understand who everyone was and their roles and relationships? You only get that from the book.
But if they read the book, how are they such huge fans of the movies when the movies take such liberties in changing the themes and feel of the book which give the book its charm. Once you read the book, you watch the movies and notice what's left out (but at least you know who everyone is).
I opined that The Two Towers was the worst of the trilogy, not to imply it was bad, but I stand by that. The screenplay is the weakest, and all the people and the parties are muddled unless you read the book. And if you read the book, again it's the dark arts of adaptive screenwriting that has them drop a single line to identify something that was fully explained in the book and have an audience member remember it.
What's inexplicable to me is that many of the changes and added scenes weren't necessary or were specious and came at the cost of keeping scenes from the book that would have better served the story. Faramir is kind of a jerk to the Hobbits in the movie, but he's a lionheart from the start in the book. He's more worthy than Boromir in the book, while he's exactly the same as him in the movie.
But again I remind myself they are different beasts. I'm purposely making comparisons because that's what I set out to do when I decided to read the book.
I think The Return of the King will be airing again next week. Truth to tell, when I was reading the book, I remembered very little from the movie aside from maybe the spider and the Mt. Doom scene. So I think a lot was changed in that movie, too.
What I don't understand is why there is such a huge following for the movies. Did everyone read the book? If they didn't read the book and are just fans of the movie, how the hell did they understand who everyone was and their roles and relationships? You only get that from the book.
But if they read the book, how are they such huge fans of the movies when the movies take such liberties in changing the themes and feel of the book which give the book its charm. Once you read the book, you watch the movies and notice what's left out (but at least you know who everyone is).
I opined that The Two Towers was the worst of the trilogy, not to imply it was bad, but I stand by that. The screenplay is the weakest, and all the people and the parties are muddled unless you read the book. And if you read the book, again it's the dark arts of adaptive screenwriting that has them drop a single line to identify something that was fully explained in the book and have an audience member remember it.
What's inexplicable to me is that many of the changes and added scenes weren't necessary or were specious and came at the cost of keeping scenes from the book that would have better served the story. Faramir is kind of a jerk to the Hobbits in the movie, but he's a lionheart from the start in the book. He's more worthy than Boromir in the book, while he's exactly the same as him in the movie.
But again I remind myself they are different beasts. I'm purposely making comparisons because that's what I set out to do when I decided to read the book.
I think The Return of the King will be airing again next week. Truth to tell, when I was reading the book, I remembered very little from the movie aside from maybe the spider and the Mt. Doom scene. So I think a lot was changed in that movie, too.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Another summer gone. Still alive. I noticed this year how quickly summer ended in Taiwan. I don't know if I noticed it before.
Summer for me in Taipei is when the thermometers in my apartment read 88-89 degrees, regardless of what it is outside. Air conditioning gets used, usually timed for an hour at a time, and otherwise the fan is on all the time, and is on all night. Showers are cold.
Summer ended when thermometers started reading 83 degrees. No more air conditioning, but still electric fan action, but not all the time. Timer turns it off after I turn off the lights to go to sleep. Showers are still basically cold, but with some hot water to take off the edge.
A typhoon is just brushing the eastern edge of Taiwan, not expected to hit, but has brought clouds, rain and a stiff wind, adding to the feel that summer's over. It's a super-typhoon. A few days ago when it was in the Philippines, the winds were blowing precipitation down on mostly sunny days in Taipei.
It perplexes me that I'm still alive, striving along with no reason to.
I read the entire Lord of the Rings this summer. I read it because I haven't found any new "meaningful" reads, i.e. relevant to my existential situation, and I'm just killing time now. I read it because HBO aired all three films over the course of three nights and I wondered how different the films were from the books and I recalled seeing them in the public library.
There are, indeed, significant differences in the first and third parts, but the second part, The Two Towers, is pretty faithful. Oddly, The Two Towers, in my opinion, was the worst of the films. Muddled and scattered, but works fine in written form. Go fig.
Since finishing the book, only the first film, Fellowship of the Ring, has been aired again and I watched it again, and I realized how clever the dark arts of adaptive screenwriting is. Mind you, I think the films are instant classics just because of the scope of the damn thing. And the books are very long-winded with paragraph upon paragraph of descriptions of Middle Earth geography and meals and lore that were kinda lost on me.
But the screenwriters were ingenious in sticking in bits that were described at length in the book as mere tidbits that only a geek who lives and breathes Lord of the Rings or someone who just read the book would notice. It's out of necessity, I know. Otherwise the films would be impossibly long. Large swaths are left out of the films, but when possible, if the screenwriters were able to insert some tiny detail, they did.
I'm waiting for HBO to air The Two Towers and The Return of the King again. The third part was the least familiar when I was reading the book, whereas whenever I hit a portion of the first two parts that was covered in the movies, the visuals from the movie immediately took over. That's how effective the movie visuals were.
I didn't note how long it took to finish reading the book, but it was a pretty long ass time. Just a few hours a day in the library. And, mind you, the book and the films are better considered different entities. The films are sumptuous and grand and epic, but are no replacement for reading the book.
After Lord of the Rings, it also occurred to me to read The DaVinci Code because that also aired on TV, and I thought if scholars on the gnostic gospels are mentioning it, I should check out what this popular novel says about them. I don't know why, but I've been surprised that even many of my college peers have no idea what the gnostic gospels are.
I thought maybe that work of fiction could be a fun introduction to the topic, but . . . no. First of all, the film is a verbatim adaptation of the book. If you saw the film, you don't need to read the book, if you read the book, you don't need to see the film. And simply put, the addressing of the gnostic gospels is not at all scholarly, but appropriate for a thriller.
And that's what I did this summer.
Summer for me in Taipei is when the thermometers in my apartment read 88-89 degrees, regardless of what it is outside. Air conditioning gets used, usually timed for an hour at a time, and otherwise the fan is on all the time, and is on all night. Showers are cold.
Summer ended when thermometers started reading 83 degrees. No more air conditioning, but still electric fan action, but not all the time. Timer turns it off after I turn off the lights to go to sleep. Showers are still basically cold, but with some hot water to take off the edge.
A typhoon is just brushing the eastern edge of Taiwan, not expected to hit, but has brought clouds, rain and a stiff wind, adding to the feel that summer's over. It's a super-typhoon. A few days ago when it was in the Philippines, the winds were blowing precipitation down on mostly sunny days in Taipei.
It perplexes me that I'm still alive, striving along with no reason to.
I read the entire Lord of the Rings this summer. I read it because I haven't found any new "meaningful" reads, i.e. relevant to my existential situation, and I'm just killing time now. I read it because HBO aired all three films over the course of three nights and I wondered how different the films were from the books and I recalled seeing them in the public library.
There are, indeed, significant differences in the first and third parts, but the second part, The Two Towers, is pretty faithful. Oddly, The Two Towers, in my opinion, was the worst of the films. Muddled and scattered, but works fine in written form. Go fig.
Since finishing the book, only the first film, Fellowship of the Ring, has been aired again and I watched it again, and I realized how clever the dark arts of adaptive screenwriting is. Mind you, I think the films are instant classics just because of the scope of the damn thing. And the books are very long-winded with paragraph upon paragraph of descriptions of Middle Earth geography and meals and lore that were kinda lost on me.
But the screenwriters were ingenious in sticking in bits that were described at length in the book as mere tidbits that only a geek who lives and breathes Lord of the Rings or someone who just read the book would notice. It's out of necessity, I know. Otherwise the films would be impossibly long. Large swaths are left out of the films, but when possible, if the screenwriters were able to insert some tiny detail, they did.
I'm waiting for HBO to air The Two Towers and The Return of the King again. The third part was the least familiar when I was reading the book, whereas whenever I hit a portion of the first two parts that was covered in the movies, the visuals from the movie immediately took over. That's how effective the movie visuals were.
I didn't note how long it took to finish reading the book, but it was a pretty long ass time. Just a few hours a day in the library. And, mind you, the book and the films are better considered different entities. The films are sumptuous and grand and epic, but are no replacement for reading the book.
After Lord of the Rings, it also occurred to me to read The DaVinci Code because that also aired on TV, and I thought if scholars on the gnostic gospels are mentioning it, I should check out what this popular novel says about them. I don't know why, but I've been surprised that even many of my college peers have no idea what the gnostic gospels are.
I thought maybe that work of fiction could be a fun introduction to the topic, but . . . no. First of all, the film is a verbatim adaptation of the book. If you saw the film, you don't need to read the book, if you read the book, you don't need to see the film. And simply put, the addressing of the gnostic gospels is not at all scholarly, but appropriate for a thriller.
And that's what I did this summer.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Westward bikeways (Erchong)
Running out of steam on this getting-back-into-cycling-thing-because-now-I-have-a-GPS. I've started shying away from climbs (which was the thrill of cycling when I first started), ergo this quick and completely flat bikeway ride.
And after this ride, I won't ride for nearly three weeks despite numerous perfect days for riding, and by the time I go for another ride, summer will be officially over and it will show in the weather and temperatures. A typhoon will also stymie any attempt to ride through that third week.
Perfect weather days, I plan to ride, but then I just can't bring myself to drag my ass and my bike's ass out of the apartment.
I've noticed that these Garmin maps don't always load properly on the first try and require reloading to appear. The mildly perplexing part of that is that when they don't load properly, the default map is Manhattan, which includes my childhood stomping grounds in New Jersey, including Fort Lee.
It's a map that's immediately recognizable and as my childhood stomping grounds, has a hint of "home". Certainly more home than any map here in Taiwan.
Monday, September 10, 2012
I recently re-bought the Robert Thurman translation of the so-called Tibetan Book of the Dead. There are four translations. The first I think is marred by Western-centric chauvinism, the second by Francesca Fremantle includes an incredible introduction by Chogyam Trungpa, Thurman's is the third and is very scholarly and professor-ly (he writes in an open-minded way, sometimes muddled, that really encourages "getting" the ideas from one's own point of view), and the fourth one is currently the most complete and comprehensive translation of the available cycle of literature.
I think I first picked up a used copy of this translation at some bookstore on 16th St. in San Francisco some 9 or 10 years ago. It was my introduction to Tibetan thought and methodology.
Robert Thurman ordained as a novice monk in the 60s, but before fully ordaining, he returned his robes (not an uncommon occurrence) and returned to the States and became a scholar on Tibet; professor of Tibetan Studies at Columbia University and founder of Tibet House, based in Manhattan. Father to Uma.
It was pretty mind-blowing back then and I marked up that book real good. I gave that copy to my cousin in 2004 or 2005. The last I heard, she hadn't read it and I'm predicting she won't until I die or disappear, presumed gone for good.
It's not quite as mind-blowing this time around as the ideas are pretty standard Dzogchen teachings, which I've repeatedly been exposed to through the years. I've also gotten more acquainted with Robert Thurman's distinct style, and I'm reading that more in the book now. Although there's still a lot to appreciate, there's very little I'm marking this time around.
There is an aspect I've been delving into that makes re-reading it now very timely. I don't always like Robert Thurman's choice of terminology, but there are concepts that I've been exploring that are clearly the same as what he explicates in his book.
The Tibetan methodology on death studies I might describe as personal scientific. It has been referred to as "science of the mind", but I don't think many of the insights can't be objectively verified scientifically. They can, however, be subjectively verified, following the methodology, but even as such, they cannot be dogmatically insisted upon as being some truth. It's an aspect of faith that instructs, "go figure it out yourself".
Another book I've recently read and found illuminating is the Dalai Lama's Advice on Dying and Living a Better Life. Tibetan methodology on death sciences focuses intently on the nature of consciousness and meditation on it.
On the most basic level, it's important to separate gross consciousness, which is the result of our physical senses feeding information to our brain which processes the information to form what we call consciousness, from suggestions that other processes are involved which define our being and are important.
When we die, those physical senses fail and that gross consciousness which is the result of our senses becomes irrelevant. And it might be the other processes, perhaps described as inner winds or subtle winds, that carry our karma through to whatever's next for each individual.
It's suggested that our adherence to gross consciousness is the deepest form of karma there is. It's what keeps us in the cycle of life, death and rebirth because it has become habit to live according to these perceptions which create what we call consciousness and reality.
As Robert Thurman puts it: The "presence-habit" is the deepest level of misknowing conceptualization, which maintains the sense of "being here now" as something or someone finite . . . supporting addictive and objective instincts of self-preservation, and blocking awareness of the primal bliss-wisdom indivisible of the eternal reality of enlightenment.
So what else is there? I don't know if the Dalai Lama used the phrase, but the phrase I got out of his book was "energy body". Thurman mentions a "magic body" which might be the same thing, although that's an example of his terminology that I don't like. There's nothing "magic" or magical about it.
But it suggests we're not just living corpses. Take away the senses that we identify as providing our living aspect and we become corpses. There's more to our consciousness than what we grossly perceive through our senses. There's a lot going on with our bodies that we can't perceive through our senses and this comprises an "energy" body that carries subtle "winds" of our being that are just as important as sight, sound, touch, smell and taste.
On a physiological level, there's an analogy with electrical impulses of our nervous system, neurons firing in our brains, cellular formation, blood creation in bone marrow, skin dying, hair growing, etc., etc. It includes our heart beating and digestion and the functions of our major organs. We're not consciously aware of these things, but they are happening, and they are of great importance to our being alive.
The meditation starts with these functions, realizing them or imagining them or imagining being conscious of them, even though we don't know the particulars of what they are doing at any given moment.
But the energy body also contains emotions and impulse thoughts, intuitive thought and instinctive reactions. Humor is an example of one of these energy elements. As well as desire and hostility. Focusing on different elements can help different people start to be aware of and identify this "energy body" and the winds that carry aspects of our being we're otherwise unaware of or don't care about.
This is just the starting point. And there's a whole nother aspect of investigating it which involves sexual energies. It's something I'm certainly unwilling to go into. I don't think there's anything written down in terms of specific teachings because it can't be taught.
It might be within a category of intuition meditation where individuals have to figure it out themselves because any external teaching is suspect of being perverse or prurient. You can only learn it when you're ready, and when you're ready, you'll figure it out yourself, and no one else can know if you're ready and have the proper discipline to separate instinctive, animalistic sexual urge and lust from transcendent, "divine", sexually instigated understanding and wisdom. Wisdom not derived from consciousness based on our gross senses.
I've said too much already, meaning I've displayed too much of my ignorance already. Although Thurman's use of terminology such as "primal bliss-wisdom" and "orgasmic ecstasy" to describe the experience is specifically chosen and not unrelated to this, I shouldn't wonder.
I think I first picked up a used copy of this translation at some bookstore on 16th St. in San Francisco some 9 or 10 years ago. It was my introduction to Tibetan thought and methodology.
Robert Thurman ordained as a novice monk in the 60s, but before fully ordaining, he returned his robes (not an uncommon occurrence) and returned to the States and became a scholar on Tibet; professor of Tibetan Studies at Columbia University and founder of Tibet House, based in Manhattan. Father to Uma.
It was pretty mind-blowing back then and I marked up that book real good. I gave that copy to my cousin in 2004 or 2005. The last I heard, she hadn't read it and I'm predicting she won't until I die or disappear, presumed gone for good.
It's not quite as mind-blowing this time around as the ideas are pretty standard Dzogchen teachings, which I've repeatedly been exposed to through the years. I've also gotten more acquainted with Robert Thurman's distinct style, and I'm reading that more in the book now. Although there's still a lot to appreciate, there's very little I'm marking this time around.
There is an aspect I've been delving into that makes re-reading it now very timely. I don't always like Robert Thurman's choice of terminology, but there are concepts that I've been exploring that are clearly the same as what he explicates in his book.
The Tibetan methodology on death studies I might describe as personal scientific. It has been referred to as "science of the mind", but I don't think many of the insights can't be objectively verified scientifically. They can, however, be subjectively verified, following the methodology, but even as such, they cannot be dogmatically insisted upon as being some truth. It's an aspect of faith that instructs, "go figure it out yourself".
Another book I've recently read and found illuminating is the Dalai Lama's Advice on Dying and Living a Better Life. Tibetan methodology on death sciences focuses intently on the nature of consciousness and meditation on it.
On the most basic level, it's important to separate gross consciousness, which is the result of our physical senses feeding information to our brain which processes the information to form what we call consciousness, from suggestions that other processes are involved which define our being and are important.
When we die, those physical senses fail and that gross consciousness which is the result of our senses becomes irrelevant. And it might be the other processes, perhaps described as inner winds or subtle winds, that carry our karma through to whatever's next for each individual.
It's suggested that our adherence to gross consciousness is the deepest form of karma there is. It's what keeps us in the cycle of life, death and rebirth because it has become habit to live according to these perceptions which create what we call consciousness and reality.
As Robert Thurman puts it: The "presence-habit" is the deepest level of misknowing conceptualization, which maintains the sense of "being here now" as something or someone finite . . . supporting addictive and objective instincts of self-preservation, and blocking awareness of the primal bliss-wisdom indivisible of the eternal reality of enlightenment.
So what else is there? I don't know if the Dalai Lama used the phrase, but the phrase I got out of his book was "energy body". Thurman mentions a "magic body" which might be the same thing, although that's an example of his terminology that I don't like. There's nothing "magic" or magical about it.
But it suggests we're not just living corpses. Take away the senses that we identify as providing our living aspect and we become corpses. There's more to our consciousness than what we grossly perceive through our senses. There's a lot going on with our bodies that we can't perceive through our senses and this comprises an "energy" body that carries subtle "winds" of our being that are just as important as sight, sound, touch, smell and taste.
On a physiological level, there's an analogy with electrical impulses of our nervous system, neurons firing in our brains, cellular formation, blood creation in bone marrow, skin dying, hair growing, etc., etc. It includes our heart beating and digestion and the functions of our major organs. We're not consciously aware of these things, but they are happening, and they are of great importance to our being alive.
The meditation starts with these functions, realizing them or imagining them or imagining being conscious of them, even though we don't know the particulars of what they are doing at any given moment.
But the energy body also contains emotions and impulse thoughts, intuitive thought and instinctive reactions. Humor is an example of one of these energy elements. As well as desire and hostility. Focusing on different elements can help different people start to be aware of and identify this "energy body" and the winds that carry aspects of our being we're otherwise unaware of or don't care about.
This is just the starting point. And there's a whole nother aspect of investigating it which involves sexual energies. It's something I'm certainly unwilling to go into. I don't think there's anything written down in terms of specific teachings because it can't be taught.
It might be within a category of intuition meditation where individuals have to figure it out themselves because any external teaching is suspect of being perverse or prurient. You can only learn it when you're ready, and when you're ready, you'll figure it out yourself, and no one else can know if you're ready and have the proper discipline to separate instinctive, animalistic sexual urge and lust from transcendent, "divine", sexually instigated understanding and wisdom. Wisdom not derived from consciousness based on our gross senses.
I've said too much already, meaning I've displayed too much of my ignorance already. Although Thurman's use of terminology such as "primal bliss-wisdom" and "orgasmic ecstasy" to describe the experience is specifically chosen and not unrelated to this, I shouldn't wonder.
Thursday, September 06, 2012
I got together with an acquaintance today. I may have mentioned her before, her name is Tako and she was a co-worker from the China Post several years back. I never attributed much to our acquaintance, although we did converse a bit, even a little bit after our time at the newspaper, and seemed to have some bit of a connection.
Friend? No. Nothing elevated our interactions to the point of being able to call it friendship, despite having shared a lot, including a lot of music.
For the past year, she has been in Australia. Before she left for Australia, she asked if we could meet up. I declined. We're not in such constant contact that I was willing to meet up just to say goodbye, and I told her as much.
If our acquaintance was of any meaning, then we would have been meeting up regularly anyway. I would have known she was thinking of going to Australia! We hadn't been, so if she suddenly wanted to meet up because she was about to leave, fuck that. It's not worth my time or effort. I told her I'd welcome her when she came back.
After a year, she came back for a visit and asked if we could meet, and I expressed that I would not miss an opportunity to meet with her. So we met.
Meeting up with her affirmed any connection we had during our conversations before. She's a special person and I gave as good as advice as I could on life. Is she a friend? No. We met up, we parted and went our separate ways and she won't be occupying any mental space. If I never heard from her again, it wouldn't make any difference.
We spoke freely about anything that occurred to us, and one topic was about my penchant to walk away from any relationship I had; a self-destructive behavior that I don't recommend to anyone who wants to do anything with their lives, and I told her so. She asked me, as a request, not to walk away from her, and my response was easy. No.
My explanation was that I knew myself too well to not be able to promise that, but the truth is, despite whatever connection we seemed to be making, she doesn't come anywhere close to what I have considered a significant friend. If I made a list of the important people in my life, it would be an insult to the other people on the list, from my perspective and reckoning, to include her on it.
Friend? No. Nothing elevated our interactions to the point of being able to call it friendship, despite having shared a lot, including a lot of music.
For the past year, she has been in Australia. Before she left for Australia, she asked if we could meet up. I declined. We're not in such constant contact that I was willing to meet up just to say goodbye, and I told her as much.
If our acquaintance was of any meaning, then we would have been meeting up regularly anyway. I would have known she was thinking of going to Australia! We hadn't been, so if she suddenly wanted to meet up because she was about to leave, fuck that. It's not worth my time or effort. I told her I'd welcome her when she came back.
After a year, she came back for a visit and asked if we could meet, and I expressed that I would not miss an opportunity to meet with her. So we met.
Meeting up with her affirmed any connection we had during our conversations before. She's a special person and I gave as good as advice as I could on life. Is she a friend? No. We met up, we parted and went our separate ways and she won't be occupying any mental space. If I never heard from her again, it wouldn't make any difference.
We spoke freely about anything that occurred to us, and one topic was about my penchant to walk away from any relationship I had; a self-destructive behavior that I don't recommend to anyone who wants to do anything with their lives, and I told her so. She asked me, as a request, not to walk away from her, and my response was easy. No.
My explanation was that I knew myself too well to not be able to promise that, but the truth is, despite whatever connection we seemed to be making, she doesn't come anywhere close to what I have considered a significant friend. If I made a list of the important people in my life, it would be an insult to the other people on the list, from my perspective and reckoning, to include her on it.
Tuesday, September 04, 2012
Xindian->Rt. 110->Dahan River east bank
This was a revisit of a ride that I used to do when I lived in Xindian, south of Taipei. Now I live in east Taipei, and the rides I discovered while I lived in Xindian require the extra ride of going to south of Taipei, so I haven't done any of them in quite some while.
Although I knew this ride could be of considerable distance, I knew this ride didn't have any challenging climbs. As it turned out, at 35 miles, it wasn't even of considerable distance, although there were a couple of ways I could've extended it well beyond 40 miles.
This ride had 3 sections: the urban ride through Taipei and down through Xindian, then the significant portion of the ride on route 110, which is pretty rural and contains the only modest climb, and then the return home which is almost all on riverside bikeways.
Towards the beginning of the route 110 section, I caught up and passed another cyclist who was decked out in full cycling gear, riding a fancy bike. I wasn't trying to be dominant or drop him, I was simply riding faster than him at that point.
It didn't bother me when he got on my wheel and got in my draft. Sadly, many Taiwanese riders I've encountered aren't aware of cooperative drafting and their responses to me drafting them have been pretty variable and some silly.
Basically drafting is when you ride right behind someone else. The person in front is doing all the work of cutting through the air, and the person behind benefits from being in the slipstream and not using as much energy to maintain a certain speed.
In professional cycling, a person takes a turn in front and then peels off and goes to the back to let someone else take a turn. In hobbyist road cycling among strangers, it's not that organized or certain that they have the concept, and if someone gets on someone else's wheel, instead of the person in front peeling off, the person behind will push forward to let the person in front know they are taking a turn.
And with this guy, I thought I found someone who knew drafting etiquette; he got on my wheel and then pulled in front to take a turn, then I pulled in front to take a turn, but then he pulled in front on a hill and dropped me. He even looked back to see if I was going to challenge him. Fuck no, you keep your Tour de France fantasy, I'm too old for this shit.
I dunno. Did he think it was some competition? I sure didn't and didn't give a crap. Although the fact that I couldn't keep up with him emphasized the fact that I am old and I've gotten seriously weak, and should be wondering how long I'm going to keep this charade up just because the market has produced the bike GPS device I wish had existed more than 10 years ago.
Monday, September 03, 2012
It's all good and fine to do the best one can in tackling mindfulness issues, one of mine being negativity, with one push-button issue of (karmic) violence and aggression. I'm generally not violent or aggressive in any way. Even when I feel an instance of anger flare up, I'm quick to extinguish it.
That instance of anger is important and I'll come back to it, but as to violence and aggression, I'm wary about this part of my mindstream that runs through scenarios where I encounter a confrontational situation where I take offense and lose any mindfulness or equilibrium and go ape shit on the other person.
Part of me says not to worry about it, it will never manifest, I'll never act on it. But then yesterday morning I had a dream where I did act on it. I don't remember specifics of the dream except that a situation arose, there was a sense of either offense or threat, and I went all out and attacked with the intention to destroy.
I don't remember the result, except that I came out fine, and that the person was somewhat reminiscent of someone I knew in my first year of college. That person was someone I had no problem with and totally respected.
She was an upperclassman, a bass player and a bit of a bull dyke. I think she was an East Asian Studies major and spoke Japanese, so maybe she was a bit of a lesbian rice queen. No problem there. And in reality she could've kicked my ass, as I think she also had some military experience in her background. No idea there.
The point about the dream, and the rest of it was also filled with my own fear and being threatened, is that it was scary because it establishes that violent and aggressive nature in my karma in a definitive way. The way I see it is that as it manifested in a dream, it was proven that it is something real in my subconscious that I have to worry about and deal with.
That flaky mindfulness thing about "I'll do the best I can" is not good enough. And I think this may be an important point about enlightenment, where serious transformation must be faced and achieved. Where doing the best you can is, quite frankly, easy. How about doing what you can't. Open your eyes and don't see. I can't. Well, do it.
I'm led to believe my karma has issues of violence and aggression, and it's rooted in anger. I've gotten good at clamping down on anger flaring up. As soon as I encounter a situation where I react in even the mildest offense of "What the hell are you doing?", I shut it down.
That's no reason to pat myself on the back. That may be doing the best I can. The impossible is wiping out any mote of anger flaring up at all, and that's what needs to be done in the scan of my perception of reality. Wipe out that karma completely. How do you wipe out karma that was created by someone else (previous life/lives)?!
It has become instinctual and immediate. It is part of my fabric. How do I not get angry for even a microsecond, how do I not react? But it has to be done no matter how impossible it seems. That's what may be considered transformational.
That instance of anger is important and I'll come back to it, but as to violence and aggression, I'm wary about this part of my mindstream that runs through scenarios where I encounter a confrontational situation where I take offense and lose any mindfulness or equilibrium and go ape shit on the other person.
Part of me says not to worry about it, it will never manifest, I'll never act on it. But then yesterday morning I had a dream where I did act on it. I don't remember specifics of the dream except that a situation arose, there was a sense of either offense or threat, and I went all out and attacked with the intention to destroy.
I don't remember the result, except that I came out fine, and that the person was somewhat reminiscent of someone I knew in my first year of college. That person was someone I had no problem with and totally respected.
She was an upperclassman, a bass player and a bit of a bull dyke. I think she was an East Asian Studies major and spoke Japanese, so maybe she was a bit of a lesbian rice queen. No problem there. And in reality she could've kicked my ass, as I think she also had some military experience in her background. No idea there.
The point about the dream, and the rest of it was also filled with my own fear and being threatened, is that it was scary because it establishes that violent and aggressive nature in my karma in a definitive way. The way I see it is that as it manifested in a dream, it was proven that it is something real in my subconscious that I have to worry about and deal with.
That flaky mindfulness thing about "I'll do the best I can" is not good enough. And I think this may be an important point about enlightenment, where serious transformation must be faced and achieved. Where doing the best you can is, quite frankly, easy. How about doing what you can't. Open your eyes and don't see. I can't. Well, do it.
I'm led to believe my karma has issues of violence and aggression, and it's rooted in anger. I've gotten good at clamping down on anger flaring up. As soon as I encounter a situation where I react in even the mildest offense of "What the hell are you doing?", I shut it down.
That's no reason to pat myself on the back. That may be doing the best I can. The impossible is wiping out any mote of anger flaring up at all, and that's what needs to be done in the scan of my perception of reality. Wipe out that karma completely. How do you wipe out karma that was created by someone else (previous life/lives)?!
It has become instinctual and immediate. It is part of my fabric. How do I not get angry for even a microsecond, how do I not react? But it has to be done no matter how impossible it seems. That's what may be considered transformational.
Saturday, September 01, 2012
泰安路 (Taian Road, 1,473 ft.), Cidu
Another example of the advantage of having GPS on a bike. I was planning on doing a tried and true ride out to Ruifang and Taiwan's east coast and looping back through Keelung and heading home. I recall the ride being long, but with only a little climbing.
But while heading out to Ruifang, I came across a road that had always intrigued me and made me wonder if there was anywhere worth riding. There was a bunch of signage at the intersection that led under a railroad overpass that made me think it was a tourist destination.
So I checked the GPS, found that it was a climb, but it was an out and back road. It didn't go anywhere. I decided to abandon the original ride and do the climb, knowing it was out and back, and having done an unplanned climb, I could just go home with a satisfactory ride.
The climbs I've been doing have been increasing little by little. I'm still convinced I'm cooked on climbs, due to age and/or alcohol. I just can't do them like I used to. I have yet to break either a 2,000 foot climb or 2,000 feet of accumulated climbing.
And there are limitations to the GPS because of human error. I found a certain bridge closed on my return home, and in plotting an alternate route to bypass the bridge, I didn't follow what looked on the map to be the most direct way to get back on the road to Taipei and went on what was familiar and "made sense" and ended up taking the long way just to backtrack to the exact opposite side of that closed bridge. I ended up riding several more miles than I had to, albeit the shorter way would've been through car and truck-choked urban streets of Xizhi.
Shortening miles isn't necessarily the point of rides or GPS, but sometimes it comes in handy when running out of fuel or time.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Danshui
Completely flat ride to Danshui, one that has been typical during the past two years that I say I haven't been riding. Riding on riverside bikeways is not riding. Training perhaps. There's nothing challenging about riding on riverside bikeways aside from not getting annoyed at other people on them who aren't cyclists or who don't know proper etiquette.
The big loop on the map is due to the GPS when I decided to test navigation using the GPS without having pre-planned where I was going, and it worked like a charm and I was easily able to figure out where I was and where I wanted to go based on previous experience (although annoying is that the MRT red line is depicted by a . . . red line, the same that indicates the GPS route).
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Shenkeng-Shiding climb
Shenkeng-Shiding climb
This ride was the product of having a GPS on a bike, for better or worse. The GPS allows, either upon doing or reviewing a ride, to discover other possible routes and roads to try. In this case it was a road that I noticed and decided to try. It was a climb and slightly higher than the climbs I had been doing, and ended up in familiar territory.
As a climb, it was fine, and fortunately with the GPS, when I went off course two times, I noticed and was able to get back. But the descent into Shiding was pretty miserable with ridiculously steep downhills and ending up on a bit of road that was unpaved, making this a ride that I won't be doing again.
I thought of returning to Taipei using an easy climb from Shenkeng that I found earlier, but I started late in the afternoon and it looked like it might get dark while still on inclines, so I abandoned that idea and backtracked my way home.
Friday, August 24, 2012
My day to days are simply getting from day to day. Can't say I'm particularly happy, but certainly not unhappy. I have nothing to complain about, but I do sometimes and then I stop myself.
I don't feel particularly desirous for anything, but I'm aware of my human nature, which by nature has the concept of desire in the mix. I'm at a measure of peace with myself, but I still grapple with my negativity, staring it down as an improper and unworthy way to be in this world.
I've never been one to bore easily, it's quite easy for me to amuse myself uselessly, but my day to day has taken it to epic levels. I'm wasting my life away in epic fashion (but aren't many people similarly wasting their lives away? . . . only much more busy, filled with things they do to give their lives meaning, but ultimately may be vain and fruitless).
Over the past recent years, I've lost most interest in all of the things I used to do that identified me. And at about the same time I've developed this "thing", this resonance over Korea. It's internal and not something to act on. I'm not going to start taking language classes or traveling to Korea or trying to meet Korean people. Not even re-connecting with the Korean people in my past. I'm not idealizing Korea, I'm fully aware of the faults of Korean society.
But a thought occurred to me that I totally don't believe in, but I'm gonna float it out anyway. With this whole unsuccessful suicide thing looking to becoming the story of my life (even though I feel suicide is my goal and purpose in life as a culmination of my understanding), I had this bizarre thought that on some plane of existence, in some imaginal or psychic realm, I have died and this psychic part of me is continuing on despite my not having died yet.
That psychic part of me got fed up with me blithering on about suicide, and finally said, "You keep being undecided about your physical self that you're obviously so attached to, I'm moving on". And there went all the things I used to enjoy, the things I used to do that identified me. Died.
And as I seem to have this idea that my next life will actually be in South Korea, in this imaginal, maybe mystic realm, my current consciousness has become very sensitive towards imprints and stimuli of South Korean culture.
If I had actually gone through with it and was re-born in South Korea, I'd be experiencing the real deal with no need for psychic or mystic realms. But since I'm not there physically, my current consciousness is responding to stimuli and imprints of where I should be.
I have no theoretical mechanics to offer to even try to explain this. Karma, or the same metaphysical substrate that might theoretically carry karma, may be involved. Maybe a sort of "reverse karma". When I do die and if I end up in Korea next, actual karma and this reverse karma just meld, and what is disjunct now come together.
As weird as that is even for me, the universe is a very weird place. The further scientific exploration takes our understanding, the weirder things get. So why not?
I don't feel particularly desirous for anything, but I'm aware of my human nature, which by nature has the concept of desire in the mix. I'm at a measure of peace with myself, but I still grapple with my negativity, staring it down as an improper and unworthy way to be in this world.
I've never been one to bore easily, it's quite easy for me to amuse myself uselessly, but my day to day has taken it to epic levels. I'm wasting my life away in epic fashion (but aren't many people similarly wasting their lives away? . . . only much more busy, filled with things they do to give their lives meaning, but ultimately may be vain and fruitless).
Over the past recent years, I've lost most interest in all of the things I used to do that identified me. And at about the same time I've developed this "thing", this resonance over Korea. It's internal and not something to act on. I'm not going to start taking language classes or traveling to Korea or trying to meet Korean people. Not even re-connecting with the Korean people in my past. I'm not idealizing Korea, I'm fully aware of the faults of Korean society.
But a thought occurred to me that I totally don't believe in, but I'm gonna float it out anyway. With this whole unsuccessful suicide thing looking to becoming the story of my life (even though I feel suicide is my goal and purpose in life as a culmination of my understanding), I had this bizarre thought that on some plane of existence, in some imaginal or psychic realm, I have died and this psychic part of me is continuing on despite my not having died yet.
That psychic part of me got fed up with me blithering on about suicide, and finally said, "You keep being undecided about your physical self that you're obviously so attached to, I'm moving on". And there went all the things I used to enjoy, the things I used to do that identified me. Died.
And as I seem to have this idea that my next life will actually be in South Korea, in this imaginal, maybe mystic realm, my current consciousness has become very sensitive towards imprints and stimuli of South Korean culture.
If I had actually gone through with it and was re-born in South Korea, I'd be experiencing the real deal with no need for psychic or mystic realms. But since I'm not there physically, my current consciousness is responding to stimuli and imprints of where I should be.
I have no theoretical mechanics to offer to even try to explain this. Karma, or the same metaphysical substrate that might theoretically carry karma, may be involved. Maybe a sort of "reverse karma". When I do die and if I end up in Korea next, actual karma and this reverse karma just meld, and what is disjunct now come together.
As weird as that is even for me, the universe is a very weird place. The further scientific exploration takes our understanding, the weirder things get. So why not?
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
two easy climbs
FDK->ShenKeng->舊莊 (2 easy climbs)
This turned out to be an anti-climatic ride. The first climb was Fudekeng that I'm well-acquainted with as an easy climb. I anticipated the second climb to be more challenging in my old age and alcoholism, and while doing it I was constantly paranoid of finding I couldn't do it. After multiple instances of going down to my grandpa gear, I realized the climb wasn't going any higher and I was on the descent, and it was, in the end, easy.
*Normative views of self or yourself are not assumed or condoned by this blog. Nor the view of "kill" for that matter.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Qidu hills
七堵 hills (Keelung)
Because of this Garmin GPS, I've been starting to ride again for the first time in two years. I don't think I rode at all last year, and any riding was all on flat, off-road riverside bikeways.
Unfortunately, due to age and alcohol intake, I'm a lot weaker now than I was even 4 years ago and hills are killing me. I just can't tackle them the way I used to and I wonder if I'll be able to even challenge more serious climbs.
But I've been testing myself on lesser climbs. The climbs in Cidu, east of Taipei and a part of Keelung district, I knew were probably manageable. Although before the GPS, I never got a feel for the routes because the previous times I went there, there was always some issue that never allowed me to discover a definite route through the hills.
Now it all makes sense, and there is a definite main course through the ride, and with variations that can take me into Keelung or other routes to complete the same climbs. With a maximum height of 858 feet, it should be a very manageable climb, and after the first cursory moments of suffering, I did manage it just fine.
And the GPS has been awesome in keeping me on course. Already several times I've started in the wrong direction and then noticed it only because of the GPS and was able to turn around and not get lost.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Minor double climb
Fudekeng/Jiannan double climb
Neither Fudekeng nor Jiannan is a major climb. Fudekeng is a 600 foot climb on an easy grade, and Jiannan is a slightly steeper grade, but a lesser 500 foot climb. The two climbs are separated by almost 10 miles of flat riverside bikeway (about 37 minutes).
I did cut this ride short because of time, and once I finished the Jiannan climb and descent into Shilin district, near the National Palace Museum, I took a shortcut through a tunnel back into Neihu district where the climb started, rather than taking an extended route on the riverside bikeways in Shilin, which was the plan, which would have added perhaps a few miles to the route, and which I'll probably do at some point.
For the love of god, I have no recollection of publishing the last two posts, much less completing them. Imagine my surprise opening up the post directory and seeing those drafts published and then rushing to check if it wasn't some regrettable drunken mistake.
And they were, no doubt, drunken mistakes, but upon looking them over, I think they're what I was getting at. That's a little comforting. It used to be that drunken blogging led to sober regret and immediate deleting of posts.
So, you see, I have progressed. Now I blog drunkenly and don't remember what I wrote or when I published it and then look at what I posted, and go, "well OK, then".
I did leave out geeking out about that specific ride, which I suppose I would've boringly done if I had the Edge 800 when I was younger. Emphasizing that it was a training ride, 700ft of climbing is not a show-off point, nor an 11mph average.
41 miles is a decent length, but after the short climb, it was all flat and included a snack break in the town of Shenkeng, famous for its stinky tofu. And Shenkeng stinky tofu is the only edible stinky tofu for this foreigner because they slather it in a tasty peanut sauce and stuff it with Korean kimchi.
And a lot of the ride was slow going because we had a typhoon (Saola) last week and the government is still clearing, cleaning and fixing the riverside parks. And I give credit to Taipei for taking the clean-up seriously, they've done a fantastic job, but it takes time to make them sparkly and shiny and there were some sections they were working on that were still caked with mud.
The Edge 800 is turning out to be great. It marks the total time of rides, but it also records the time that you were actually moving. So if you're stopped at a light or taking a break, it doesn't include that.
I probably won't remember publishing this post, either. I so don't remember how my nights end that I've started to record into a micro-cassette recorder I keep on my nightstand what time I turn off the lights and what I had been doing to be turning the lights off that late.
I'm sure I haven't mentioned that I broke my only shot glass (a double) several months ago. Drinking from a shot glass kinda acted as a regulator. I'd drink a shot and then there'd be some lag time until the next one.
But now I'm just drinking out of glasses, so I just fill them up to what may look to some to be an impressive level, and I sip, but there's still more there, and so I just keep drinkin' it and re-fillin' it and all of a sudden I'm thinkin' in a Scottish accent.
You're not really drunk until you're speaking in strange accents. But since I have no one to talk to, it's just thinking in strange accents. Mind you, my kind of drunkenness still entails washing my glasses and brushing my teeth before turning off the lights.
And they were, no doubt, drunken mistakes, but upon looking them over, I think they're what I was getting at. That's a little comforting. It used to be that drunken blogging led to sober regret and immediate deleting of posts.
So, you see, I have progressed. Now I blog drunkenly and don't remember what I wrote or when I published it and then look at what I posted, and go, "well OK, then".
I did leave out geeking out about that specific ride, which I suppose I would've boringly done if I had the Edge 800 when I was younger. Emphasizing that it was a training ride, 700ft of climbing is not a show-off point, nor an 11mph average.
41 miles is a decent length, but after the short climb, it was all flat and included a snack break in the town of Shenkeng, famous for its stinky tofu. And Shenkeng stinky tofu is the only edible stinky tofu for this foreigner because they slather it in a tasty peanut sauce and stuff it with Korean kimchi.
And a lot of the ride was slow going because we had a typhoon (Saola) last week and the government is still clearing, cleaning and fixing the riverside parks. And I give credit to Taipei for taking the clean-up seriously, they've done a fantastic job, but it takes time to make them sparkly and shiny and there were some sections they were working on that were still caked with mud.
The Edge 800 is turning out to be great. It marks the total time of rides, but it also records the time that you were actually moving. So if you're stopped at a light or taking a break, it doesn't include that.
I probably won't remember publishing this post, either. I so don't remember how my nights end that I've started to record into a micro-cassette recorder I keep on my nightstand what time I turn off the lights and what I had been doing to be turning the lights off that late.
I'm sure I haven't mentioned that I broke my only shot glass (a double) several months ago. Drinking from a shot glass kinda acted as a regulator. I'd drink a shot and then there'd be some lag time until the next one.
But now I'm just drinking out of glasses, so I just fill them up to what may look to some to be an impressive level, and I sip, but there's still more there, and so I just keep drinkin' it and re-fillin' it and all of a sudden I'm thinkin' in a Scottish accent.
You're not really drunk until you're speaking in strange accents. But since I have no one to talk to, it's just thinking in strange accents. Mind you, my kind of drunkenness still entails washing my glasses and brushing my teeth before turning off the lights.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Testing. And blowing my mind. And pondering:
FDK->ShenKeng->full bikeways home
So about that windfall I mentioned. I've been loosening my attachments towards money, about which I profess is not an issue in this lifetime, and it isn't. I really believe it isn't.
I've been buying stuff, but it's not like I'm suddenly indulging in new found luxury. Mostly I've just been replacing stuff that I've been holding out upgrading. And the things I've been upgrading have been long due.
The Casio G-shock altimeter watch replaced the Timex Helix that I've had for about 10 years and which finally died while I rode over cobblestones that it couldn't handle. My focus on G-shock was specifically related to that.
I bought new tires for my bike, which replaced tires I bought 4 years ago, and it was not the first time I rode tires to the point of being able to see the steel wires at their core. Believe me, by that point, you've been riding on tires much too long.
New cycling gloves were not a big deal, but the cycling shorts I've been riding on for the past 10 years, I can tell you 10 years is beyond their lifetime. Extended rides were getting reasonably painful and my new padded shorts have been . . . just fine.
And my new shoes are no joke. I can't believe I've been suffering my old cycling shoes for over 10 years. They'd gotten to the point of being painful on extended rides (not unlike the shorts), and with the new shoes extended distances put no further strain on my feet.
I really appreciated the local Giant bike shop from which I got my new shoes when they told me the clips on my old shoes were fine and could be transferred onto the new shoes and I didn't need to replace my pedals.
But the point of this post is the Garmin Edge 800 bike GPS I bought. All of the things I've purchased as a result of this recent windfall has been replacement stuff or enhancement of perishable stuffs. That's important. If I'm spending money to acquire stuff, there needs to be a point.
I justify the Edge 800 purchase because it is something I wanted all along. It sucks that this technology comes so late in my life. It is exactly what I would have wanted 10 years ago when I was doing rides around the Bay Area.
I'm not riding like I was 10 years ago, nor am I the rider that I was 10 years ago. 10 years ago I was tackling hills of any size with gusto to test myself. Now, I'm struggling with hills, wondering if I can do the easiest of them. Buying this Edge 800 GPS unit is basically just an overdue gift to myself.
I would have loved to have a device that recorded my rides 10 years ago in the Bay Area; climbs, altitudes, pace, routes, etc. I was just happy with my basic Cateye bike computer that told me distance and speeds.
In the same way I would have loved to have grown up with an iPod, being able to put all the music I found in one location. Keeping all the music I found despite technology advancements from LPs to cassettes to CDs to MP3s.
But without the technology lag, I wonder if artists would have found the freedom to create the music they did before technology became such a dominant factor in consumers' lives.
I was into 70s progressive rock and 90s indie rock. Could either of those genres have survived in the digital era? I honestly don't know. But they did survive in people appreciating them like me in spite of the digital era.
I can only wonder if future generations can appreciate that kind of music. If they can, it's their gain. If they can't, it's not their loss, I shouldn't wonder. If they don't appreciate it, you can't fault them. It's just not for them.
Time has passed me by through technology. I didn't need to buy this Garmin Edge 800, I don't need my iPod(s). They enhance my appreciation of my general being here, but I'm not attaching to them.
As a product review, the Edge 800 is everything a cyclist could want in a bike mounted GPS unit, I shouldn't wonder. Certainly future models might improve on it, but until that happens, you need to have a pretty specific workout routine to be unhappy with this product.
FDK->ShenKeng->full bikeways home
So about that windfall I mentioned. I've been loosening my attachments towards money, about which I profess is not an issue in this lifetime, and it isn't. I really believe it isn't.
I've been buying stuff, but it's not like I'm suddenly indulging in new found luxury. Mostly I've just been replacing stuff that I've been holding out upgrading. And the things I've been upgrading have been long due.
The Casio G-shock altimeter watch replaced the Timex Helix that I've had for about 10 years and which finally died while I rode over cobblestones that it couldn't handle. My focus on G-shock was specifically related to that.
I bought new tires for my bike, which replaced tires I bought 4 years ago, and it was not the first time I rode tires to the point of being able to see the steel wires at their core. Believe me, by that point, you've been riding on tires much too long.
New cycling gloves were not a big deal, but the cycling shorts I've been riding on for the past 10 years, I can tell you 10 years is beyond their lifetime. Extended rides were getting reasonably painful and my new padded shorts have been . . . just fine.
And my new shoes are no joke. I can't believe I've been suffering my old cycling shoes for over 10 years. They'd gotten to the point of being painful on extended rides (not unlike the shorts), and with the new shoes extended distances put no further strain on my feet.
I really appreciated the local Giant bike shop from which I got my new shoes when they told me the clips on my old shoes were fine and could be transferred onto the new shoes and I didn't need to replace my pedals.
But the point of this post is the Garmin Edge 800 bike GPS I bought. All of the things I've purchased as a result of this recent windfall has been replacement stuff or enhancement of perishable stuffs. That's important. If I'm spending money to acquire stuff, there needs to be a point.
I justify the Edge 800 purchase because it is something I wanted all along. It sucks that this technology comes so late in my life. It is exactly what I would have wanted 10 years ago when I was doing rides around the Bay Area.
I'm not riding like I was 10 years ago, nor am I the rider that I was 10 years ago. 10 years ago I was tackling hills of any size with gusto to test myself. Now, I'm struggling with hills, wondering if I can do the easiest of them. Buying this Edge 800 GPS unit is basically just an overdue gift to myself.
I would have loved to have a device that recorded my rides 10 years ago in the Bay Area; climbs, altitudes, pace, routes, etc. I was just happy with my basic Cateye bike computer that told me distance and speeds.
In the same way I would have loved to have grown up with an iPod, being able to put all the music I found in one location. Keeping all the music I found despite technology advancements from LPs to cassettes to CDs to MP3s.
But without the technology lag, I wonder if artists would have found the freedom to create the music they did before technology became such a dominant factor in consumers' lives.
I was into 70s progressive rock and 90s indie rock. Could either of those genres have survived in the digital era? I honestly don't know. But they did survive in people appreciating them like me in spite of the digital era.
I can only wonder if future generations can appreciate that kind of music. If they can, it's their gain. If they can't, it's not their loss, I shouldn't wonder. If they don't appreciate it, you can't fault them. It's just not for them.
Time has passed me by through technology. I didn't need to buy this Garmin Edge 800, I don't need my iPod(s). They enhance my appreciation of my general being here, but I'm not attaching to them.
As a product review, the Edge 800 is everything a cyclist could want in a bike mounted GPS unit, I shouldn't wonder. Certainly future models might improve on it, but until that happens, you need to have a pretty specific workout routine to be unhappy with this product.
Thursday, August 02, 2012
There's a line in Richard Bach's book Illusions which goes something like, "If you're wondering whether your mission in life is finished, if you're alive, it isn't".
I'm still alive, but I do have a feeling my mission in this life is finished. Actually, I'll prefer to say that I'm at my journey's end, and have been for a while. If life is a path, I'm literally at the end of it, there's no where to go for me from here; from this cruddy little apartment in Taipei.
The physical path has ended, and only the temporal path has been lingering until I decide to have a personal breakthrough regarding existence and reality.
There's nothing I want to do, nowhere I want to go. I'm not going anywhere, not on my own accord. I don't feel bad about it, I feel free, only trapped by my own mind, limitations and neurotic. And I do consider myself very, very fortunate. But I can't even conceive of taking the very first steps to move again, whether to another apartment, to Kaohsiung, or back to the U.S.
If I wanted to, I could continue with a mission. I could become a participant in my young nephews' and nieces' lives, but there's nothing compelling me towards that mission. They'll be fine without me, I shouldn't wonder, and with me there's no establishing they will be better off for it.
My path is just my own path. I decide when the mission is done.
I'm still alive, but I do have a feeling my mission in this life is finished. Actually, I'll prefer to say that I'm at my journey's end, and have been for a while. If life is a path, I'm literally at the end of it, there's no where to go for me from here; from this cruddy little apartment in Taipei.
The physical path has ended, and only the temporal path has been lingering until I decide to have a personal breakthrough regarding existence and reality.
There's nothing I want to do, nowhere I want to go. I'm not going anywhere, not on my own accord. I don't feel bad about it, I feel free, only trapped by my own mind, limitations and neurotic. And I do consider myself very, very fortunate. But I can't even conceive of taking the very first steps to move again, whether to another apartment, to Kaohsiung, or back to the U.S.
If I wanted to, I could continue with a mission. I could become a participant in my young nephews' and nieces' lives, but there's nothing compelling me towards that mission. They'll be fine without me, I shouldn't wonder, and with me there's no establishing they will be better off for it.
My path is just my own path. I decide when the mission is done.
Monday, July 30, 2012
"Issues I'm dealing with in this lifetime". I was introduced to that idea in my first year of college, I think from Richard Bach's Illusions. We choose our issues, our problems that we have to work on to grow spiritually. We are the otters of the universe.
Back then, suicide was already on my agenda, although much more angsty and not the edifice of philosophically developed bullshit I seem to think has a leg to stand on now. I labeled the issue I'm dealing with in this lifetime as "existence". And now that I think of it, that hasn't changed much through the years. As pretentious as "existence" sounds as an issue when I first identified it, I haven't replaced or upgraded it to anything else. Suicide for me is an existential issue.
But presently, I can tuck that issue in my cap because of another issue I'm recognizing in my self-imposed isolation. I'm not sure what to call it, but it feels like some sort of paralysis. I don't want anything, I don't want to do anything anymore. And by "paralysis", I mean that simply as a descriptive and not as something negative. Perhaps perplexing, but not negative.
People, if they're not depressed, want to do something. I understand it. For a large portion of my life, I wanted to do music. I wanted to practice, I wanted to play. I don't anymore. I may pick up an instrument now and then and noodle, but there's no feeling or wanting anymore. It's wet noodling. I used to be a runner, and that was almost a compulsion. If I didn't run, I would get antsy. It was even metaphor and motto, "you don't stop", á là A Tribe Called Quest. You don't stop meant the pursuit and the passion, which included towards suicide, as death is a part of life. I stopped. Then I got into cycling, and I still go for rides, but it's a major production in my head and a chore to get myself out the door by the scruff of my neck. It's not that I want to ride, I'm practically forcing myself.
People, if they're not depressed, want to be social and hang out with friends. I just don't want to. Some people I know have called me out and after reluctantly agreeing and meeting up with them, they subsequently haven't made any contact. Maybe I've become socially inept. I didn't feel I was inept, but it also may have just been the vibe I gave off. As much as I tried not to give it, it was, "I don't want to be here and want to leave as soon as I can".
I haven't rented a movie in an awful long time, because I just don't care to. I've been to Blockbusters since, but I would just walk out empty-handed.
Family in Kaohsiung have made overtures, but I just have no interest. I can't imagine a visit to Kaohsiung. What would I do there? Stare at family members I can't communicate with or be marginalized by family members having a conversation I can't participate in? Been there, done that.
I could travel now if I wanted with that windfall, but I just have no interest. Not even Taiwan, much less respond to Madoka's entreaty to visit her in Japan after she heard about the windfall. As much as I love Madoka and feel comfortable with her, I can't imagine going there and interacting with her in close quarters for whatever amount of time I'd be there. I'd want to be alone. I can't even imagine making the effort to go visit her.
And love itself. Just NO INTEREST. I don't want to be loved, I don't need to be loved, I'm perfectly happy not loved. Love, sex, intimacy: no interest. Connection: no interest.
And New Jersey family is asking me if I'm going for a visit for my father's 80th birthday, and I just have no interest. I'm still composing my email response that I don't want to go. Birthdays have never been a big deal in our family and family gatherings I've always found to be awkward. I can't imagine a visit to New Jersey. I'm trying to make the email not sound grim. If they do press for me to go, I might concede, though. Everything's a big whatever, meh.
I do things during the course of my days because I have to do something. I'm not a vegetable yet. I've already said I'm not a hermit. I can watch TV or DVDs or surf the net all day. I read at bookstores and the library. I go out to eat and I do eat, but I can't say I have much of an appetite these days. I don't ever feel hungry. I go out and eat because it's something to do and to ward off what I expect will become hunger if I don't.
I know, it all sounds like depression, but I don't think I'm depressed. I don't feel depressed. I'm fairly at peace, I really have nothing to complain about, so I don't for most part and dismiss it when I do. I cultivate happiness just for the sake of happiness; happiness not being the result of desire or acquisition, but just from this idea of conscious human existence. I'm here, why not be happy? I'm here, why be miserable?
Back then, suicide was already on my agenda, although much more angsty and not the edifice of philosophically developed bullshit I seem to think has a leg to stand on now. I labeled the issue I'm dealing with in this lifetime as "existence". And now that I think of it, that hasn't changed much through the years. As pretentious as "existence" sounds as an issue when I first identified it, I haven't replaced or upgraded it to anything else. Suicide for me is an existential issue.
But presently, I can tuck that issue in my cap because of another issue I'm recognizing in my self-imposed isolation. I'm not sure what to call it, but it feels like some sort of paralysis. I don't want anything, I don't want to do anything anymore. And by "paralysis", I mean that simply as a descriptive and not as something negative. Perhaps perplexing, but not negative.
People, if they're not depressed, want to do something. I understand it. For a large portion of my life, I wanted to do music. I wanted to practice, I wanted to play. I don't anymore. I may pick up an instrument now and then and noodle, but there's no feeling or wanting anymore. It's wet noodling. I used to be a runner, and that was almost a compulsion. If I didn't run, I would get antsy. It was even metaphor and motto, "you don't stop", á là A Tribe Called Quest. You don't stop meant the pursuit and the passion, which included towards suicide, as death is a part of life. I stopped. Then I got into cycling, and I still go for rides, but it's a major production in my head and a chore to get myself out the door by the scruff of my neck. It's not that I want to ride, I'm practically forcing myself.
People, if they're not depressed, want to be social and hang out with friends. I just don't want to. Some people I know have called me out and after reluctantly agreeing and meeting up with them, they subsequently haven't made any contact. Maybe I've become socially inept. I didn't feel I was inept, but it also may have just been the vibe I gave off. As much as I tried not to give it, it was, "I don't want to be here and want to leave as soon as I can".
I haven't rented a movie in an awful long time, because I just don't care to. I've been to Blockbusters since, but I would just walk out empty-handed.
Family in Kaohsiung have made overtures, but I just have no interest. I can't imagine a visit to Kaohsiung. What would I do there? Stare at family members I can't communicate with or be marginalized by family members having a conversation I can't participate in? Been there, done that.
I could travel now if I wanted with that windfall, but I just have no interest. Not even Taiwan, much less respond to Madoka's entreaty to visit her in Japan after she heard about the windfall. As much as I love Madoka and feel comfortable with her, I can't imagine going there and interacting with her in close quarters for whatever amount of time I'd be there. I'd want to be alone. I can't even imagine making the effort to go visit her.
And love itself. Just NO INTEREST. I don't want to be loved, I don't need to be loved, I'm perfectly happy not loved. Love, sex, intimacy: no interest. Connection: no interest.
And New Jersey family is asking me if I'm going for a visit for my father's 80th birthday, and I just have no interest. I'm still composing my email response that I don't want to go. Birthdays have never been a big deal in our family and family gatherings I've always found to be awkward. I can't imagine a visit to New Jersey. I'm trying to make the email not sound grim. If they do press for me to go, I might concede, though. Everything's a big whatever, meh.
I do things during the course of my days because I have to do something. I'm not a vegetable yet. I've already said I'm not a hermit. I can watch TV or DVDs or surf the net all day. I read at bookstores and the library. I go out to eat and I do eat, but I can't say I have much of an appetite these days. I don't ever feel hungry. I go out and eat because it's something to do and to ward off what I expect will become hunger if I don't.
I know, it all sounds like depression, but I don't think I'm depressed. I don't feel depressed. I'm fairly at peace, I really have nothing to complain about, so I don't for most part and dismiss it when I do. I cultivate happiness just for the sake of happiness; happiness not being the result of desire or acquisition, but just from this idea of conscious human existence. I'm here, why not be happy? I'm here, why be miserable?
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