Mooseknuckler Cycling Alliance

Pablo Neruda wrote a poem entitled “America, no invoco to nombre en vano.” That title and first line has stuck with me ever since the first time I read it. It translates to “America, I don’t invoke your name in vane.” The idea of invoking America was something that Neruda introduced to me and that was stuck in my head relentlessly trying to get out. I started a poem about a year and a half ago, but was never able to finish. It has always bothered me to leave a muse untethered and this was no exception. Having read through my notebooks a few weeks ago, I ran across the unfinished expression. Ever since it has been taunting me to finish it. I did.

Yes, America

I invoke your name in vain

Not out of disrespect

But because of your complacency

I invoke your ideals,

Held so high, slaughtered

In the wake of your consumption

Your wayside littered with crumbling

Institutions & Freedom left for dead.

America, the sleeping giant

Trapped in contradicting policies

You are powerless to act, fading

All empires return to ashes.

I invoke your citizens to revolution

To evolve into active lives.

America, I fall by your side

And reduce myself to beg.

They all want you to remove your mask

They need you to truly lead

They fight for you to get out of the way

Invoke your genius to defend

Life, Liberty & Pursuit of Happiness.

Life to simply live by being

Liberty to not offend those rights

We would die to defend

Pursuit of Happiness to drive

Towards the greatness, we all

Possess to invoke in you.

Yes, America we invoke your name in vain

We invoke you to lead

We, your driving citizens

Who you’ve left outside

In the reigning failure of your democracy

Disenfranchised, we gave you power

You took more than was yours

In vane we invoke your name.

America, you have failed us

Left us without life, killing

Those who impede your wealth

Denied us of our liberties

Treating our rights as permissions

& failed to foment Happiness

Your institutions bleed

Screaming without being heard

America you have failed

And yet

We still invoke your name.

I hope you enjoyed.

Peace. Love. and Revolution.

I’m back in the Polar North, back where I don’t enjoy the riding because it all goes straight up hill, back where I live alone in a small cave with nothing more than my books and NPR to keep me company, back to where I don’t want to be but where I have to be now.

Being in SG was great. I saw a lot of friends that I didn’t get to see last time. The Gurrito was top on the priority list, check, cute little baby. Gurr may get upset at me for saying this but Papa Gurr is a proud papa, period. Again congrats Ryan and Lacy. If you’ve been over to the Crawling Spider Gallery, then you know that Bryce and I rode the Goose. It was worth the six hour drive and not sleeping to ride. I love the mountains, hell, I even learned to love the coast even if the ocean still scares the shit out of me, but the desert is home. The sand stone formations, the dry heat, the friends, the family, ah yes, I can finally call this place home. It saddens my heart to think that I probably won’t reside permanently in SG again for a while, or possibly never. The world is big, I’m small, gotta see it all.

I’ve mentioned this a couple of times, but never really came out and said it. I’ve been writing a lot. The silent absence that is my residence has fomented my creative juices. This is what I do, what I am and now what I work to not starve doing. I should graduate this year and writing has to take up  the slack after that. I guess I realized it was time to do it. I’ve been working.

Anyways… You’re all invited to escape the heat whenever you want, but I’ll be back in July.

 Peace. Love. and Revolution.

I sit here in silence wondering if the day of silence was felt by all of you. Here at Sunrise we listen to Pandora everyday. As I hope you all know, internet radio had a day of silence to protest the high royalty fees they will be paying soon if we all don’ say something. Go here and be involved.

I spent the weekend in SG. Yes, I rode the Goose. It felt good to be in the desert and to see all you knucklers.

Peace.

Ahhh! My legs are tired and I can feel the after morning burn caused by a long climb. You all know what I’m talking about. Waking up to feel like your legs are filled with lead and a grogginess that only the most lethargic of desert animals can top. I would much prefer to be vegging out in my small cave writing on lineless brown paper about my days happenings, that would leave you all out of the loop and cause certain people undue stress as the worry about my riding status.

The climb that gave me this morning’s  burn was none less than the Jardine Juniper Trail with 525 meters in about a 4 mile sustained grunt (altitude according to my Suunto watch). This is the same trail the Alliance adopted a few weeks ago and that is in desperate need of more love than this Knuckler can afford to give. I headed up the trail with my hand saw only to find that the Forest Service had already beat me to the punch and had cleared the trail from our last snow. On a side note, our last snow was about two weeks ago. One thing I have noticed about riding in Logan is the bloody pollen. I have no symptoms of allergy while in the valley but get me up on a mountain trail and my throat all but closes off. It is so bad that I can actually taste and smell the pollen in the air. I imagine, although I don’t really know, that what I experience must be somewhat similar to Asthma. Last night was no exception. I even had a new mishap that proved almost debilitating. My eyes were so itchy and swollen I could barely see. I alternated between eyes to try and alleviate a bit of the problem. I have to say that bombing a trail at full speed without full vision enhances the adrenaline rush.

We also rode Wednesday. Yup, the Alliance ride is happening and healthy up here in the polar north. I am finally starting to get new people out and feel that it is worth while to ride every Wednesday. A few of the people we ride with now are new to the area and having a few locals (who despite being locals tend to get lost a lot) to guide the way, we have been able to show riders trails they probably would have never done on their own.

How’s the riding in Cache County? We have a lot of trails. Probably close to a million of them, but without quality what is quantity. There are four or five trails that are easily accessed from within the city and all of the trails are really within riding distance if you have the time to spin your way up the canyon. With that said, I’d give my left nut to be able to ride SG again soon. I will be at Brian Head in the middle of July for a couple of days. If anyone is interested in riding please let me know and we will hook it up.

A todos modos, that’s about all I’ve got.

A nice quote to help you learn Spanish, “Puedo escribir los versos mas tristes esta noche.” Pablo Neruda. As I’ve mentioned I’ve been reading his autobiography and have started to reread El Canto General. His autobiography is the most interesting biography I’ve ever read. He knew everyone from Picasso to Aragon and about everyone in between. He was in Spain during their Civil War when Franco took over and was exiled from Chile during Videla dictatorship (yes sponsored by the U.S.). Having recently taken a Spanish history class, his book puts a lot of things into place that were left out of my crash course. And yes, Mr. Gurr he met and wrote about the Anarchists of the time.

Well, I should go back to work so I’m out. The title to this post is an allusion, figure it out.

Peace.

These are the missing fotos from the last post. Enjoy!

Yes, Mr. Gurr, I have been riding. I just haven’t been writing about riding here because I am working on a few things in other places that are taking up that energy. I will get some more riding stuff on here so you can be happy.

I spent last night reading a whole bunch of stuff written by this cracker jack, yes I refer to yours truly. Looking back on what I’ve written is a past time of mine that I enjoy once or twice a year. It allows me to reflect on where I was and where I am and what in Hell’s name happened in between. Two major thoughts became very prevalent in the undirected wanderings of my self absorbed verbage. First, everything about Veronica was either love or hate and nothing in between. It seems we teatered on seperation the entire time we were together. In light of that thought, I felt good about where I was. Second, I’ve been thinking the same things for a long time. I only had access to two of my most recent notebooks and would have liked to compare them to older thoughts in the books of Lukas. Unfortunately, they are in SG and I am not.

I’ve been reading Pablo Neruda’s (my favorite poet) autobiography. I think, mostly out of a deep respect and desire to emulate, but I see a lot of things that he wrote that are the same types of things that I have written about. Of course, his are on a level I would never assume to reach any time in this life. I’ve often wondered about why certain people write while others paint and so forth. I am yet to reach any kind of concrete observation, but out of my own experience, I feel I am compelled. I don’t always write and if I try to force myself to do so, it never comes out the way I would prefer. Many times I have written things that I have never thought and that have become part of my belief system. It’s the muses I suppose.

One thing that has always been a constant in my writing is the eternal need to define myself. The most accurate of these descriptions are always contradictions that impose a sense of opposing forces that make up my composition. I think such things are because of the conglomerative make up of our souls. Things that are seeming contradictions can and are many times juxtaposed within us. How else can we explain human behaviour?

What does all this babel mean? Nothing, it comes down to nothing and it’s inexplicable depth.

We are now arming insurgents in Iraq. English or Espanol.

This is an interesting twist to this pathetic occupation. If you look at it as a way to ally ourselves with the people and actually form a valid base upon which a democratic nation could be built, this is a great idea. The problem is these militias are the same ones who oppose the current democratically elected government. It would seem a bit counter productive to supply those who oppose the already in place government with arms and other necessities. I wonder what the Iraqi government officials think of this.

My View.

The question of the hour, my brothers in arms, has been bouncing around in the small chasms of my head. I’ve expressed this dilemma to a few of you on different occasions and am yet to come up with a decent solution. Where do we draw the line in the sand and refuse to compromise? Where do ideals and beliefs become the motivation for revolution? I ask you, my friends, where do you draw the line?

I have my thoughts, ideas and useless rhetoric to protect me, but in the end where is it that I will make my last stand and over what. There are many things that I would die to defend but very few I would kill for. I take a look at what the wars in this world are fought over and I can’t help but feel disillusioned with humanity. How can we kill for such useless things?

Anyways, those are my two cents for the day.

Peace. Love. and Revolution.

Yes, I know I haven’t really posted in a while. I also know that no one really cares, but I have to think so or I would go absolutely crazy up here. So, here’s a quick run down of what I’ve done recently.

I went to Minnesota. It’s green, flat and it feels like you never go anywhere even though you drive for hours. We rode some rides, saw a big mall, and met some people. That sums that up. I think I can lump the entire midwest into this trip. Been there, seen that.

If you’ve read the comments on this pathetic site, you also know that certain people feel as if they got the shaft. Well, deal with it. I made an effort, if it wasn’t enough for you all to be happy, then I’m not sure what would be.

I got a new bike, it kicks ass. It’s really light, rides nice and is way sexy.

Well, that’s my life.

Peace.

President Bush.