"The limits of excess are governed by one's ability to surpass expectations."
- Me, just now.
I'm pretty sure that's plagiarism, but Google won't reveal to me the original thinker who came up with it, so I'm going to use it and hope for the best. I've been reading, and riding, and baking bread, as usual without a lot of surprises. There was a decent couple loaves of bread using ground steel cut oats and cranberries, there were a few decent rides on Minnesota Nice Ride bicycles and I finally read The Stand by Stephen King.
I know, I'm really undershooting this.
Thanks.
I did just get out and ride a couple of routes I had been thinking about for awhile - cycling to Marine On St. Croix and back from St. Paul was a solid seventy miles, riding out to Lake Minnetonka and back, (including a new trail bridge on the Luce Line) has been a reliable fifty miles, (even though one particular stop light reminds me of a family portrait where everybody has to stand and wait until the moment is right, and then do it over because somebody heard a mouse fart or something), I rode through West Saint Paul and got through a couple of challenging climbs without too much trouble...
...a lot of these rides are probably daily or weekly routes for some of the areas more competent cyclists, for me, between trying to stay employed and trying to keep my feet on the ground, they are something to look forward to.
The thing I do not look forward to is getting into trouble. Be it other cyclists not appreciating my attitude, local citizens charging me with disrespectful behavior or those close to me saying I am flippant and narcissistic, I guess a lot of it seems redundant and perfunctory. Until I get pulled over by a police officer, while riding a bike, for going through a red light. Or pulled over by a parks and recreation officer for riding through a closed trail section. I don't know what to say about it, other than this is not the platform for those legalities. I would welcome open and relevant discourse from a reader who felt disconcerted after reading this, then meeting me, and finding that I am not who they thought I would be.
I get frustrated. I get angry. I get downright mean sometimes. Believe it or not, I am not only my own worst critic, I am my own worst enemy. Shaquile O'Neal says having the right attitude is the only thing an athlete can completely control, and I guess if you can shatter backboards you have a valid point. He wasn't much for the free throws though, was he.
Here's my latest Goodreads review, on a collection of short stories by Ian McEwan.
First Love, Last Rites by
Ian McEwanMy rating:
2 of 5 starsLast Day of Summer is pretty magnificent. There is a lot of Flannery O'Connor in it, but there is also a tension that is brought out throughout the narrative that seems to reside in the story itself. Although it is a tragedy, it reads like a triumphant lesson in love.
Cocker at the Theater is the other story that really got my attention. Very short, very funny and still a bit bawdy. The other stories in this collection, (besides Last Day of Summer) had more than their fair share of reproductive body parts in reference and function, yet this one was the only one that caught a play within a play, and set the quality of lasciviousness as humorous and just a little bit of harmless fun. Something to be tolerated and forgotten, rather than lauded, dramatized and sensationalized.
So, two of these stories really impressed me, and yeah, I know, it's Ian Mcewan and who the hell am I, but that's what I'm going with.
View all my reviews
