Life, in timelapse.

 I've loved this song since I first heard it in the early 1980s. It's amazing to think it's been that long: when I first saw the film, its central message seemed to encapsulate a world fraying at the edges. In retrospect, it was actually a golden time compared to the shitshow we're currently living through. Anyway, "The Grid" is the obvious highlight of the record, and its shifting sense of psychedelia has stayed with me ever since. 

Seeing the notation for the song, though, was the moment in which the real importance of the music hit me. It's an unerringly accurate representation of what it feels like inside my mind. Everything is ostinato, and the patterns constantly shift, repeating, jumping, and underlining the power and intensity of the voices within. More than that, the intervals which pulse through those patterns give the impression that the song is moving from half-time to double-time. In reality, of course, the music merely keeps its steady state, moving relentlessly forward. There's a deep sense of wonder to see the shifting components of the song move and fragment - then coalesce once again. It's a dance, and it's the heartbeat of my life. 

What do I ride?

So, I thought it might be good to take a snapshot of my cycling preferences. 

it's been almost three years of intense riding, or tweaking all of my setups, of learning what works for me. This, is all of it.

Shoes: Le Col, also Shimano S-Phyre RC902. 

Socks - Pongo.

Tights - Le Col Aqua zero

Bibs - Le Col lightweight, Le Col indoors, Le Col Pro. La Passione Pro. Wanyudo club kit (Miltag Pro fit)

Jerseys - as above

Helmet - S-Works Prevail II Vent

Computer - Wahoo Elemnt Bolt V.2

HRM - Wahoo Tickr

Trainer - Wahoo Kickr Axis, 2020

Bar Tape - Deda Elementi. Black.

Bars - Giant Contact SLR.

Stem - Giant Contact SL, Specialized S-works, Deda Zero, 110mm

Groupset - Dura Ace 9100, 9150.

Cranks - 50/34, and 52/36 - 170mm

Chain - KMC gold

Brakes - Dura Ace (rim) Ultegra (disc)

Cassette - 11-32

Tyres - Pirelli P-Zero Race, 28mm, also 26mm. Goodyear Eagle, for tubeless, 28mm.

Saddle - Selle San Marco Mantra - various iterations, comfort, Superleggera, Racing Dynamic. Always narrow fit, normally carbon rails. 

Pedals - Assioma Favero Duo power pedals, Look Keo on the trainer, for compatability.

If there's anything I've missed, I'll try and update this list!

 

Museum piece.

 This was a huge surprise - the little fanzine I made in 1985, will end up in a collection in the Museum at Manchester University. 

I really have no idea how this came about, but it feels so bizarre that I can't quite believe it. DWT was my first real attempt at a fanzine, very much inspired by "Groovy Black Shades" (made by Paul Groovy) and "Adventures in Bereznik" (by Simon Bereznik), 'zines which were handed out at gigs I went to, throughout 1984 and 1985. The whole culture of fanzines was very DIY, and inspiring - go out and make your own, get involved! 

So, in the late summer of 1985, when I returned to Lancaster Uni, I got down to business. First, I made collages and cut-outs, from magazines and other found media. Then,I typed out all of the articles, poems, jokes and content, reducing the type so it would fit. Then - painstakingly - it was all assembled and glued together, on two giant "master" pages. These were then photocopied again, so I could fold one huge sheet into a small fanzine. There was a definite plan for distribution, too. These weren't going to be for sale; it was very much a labour of love. I would get a plastic bag full of 'zines, take them to gigs, and give them to people who I hoped would enjoy them. That's why there's a "free?" on the cover. Looking back on my work, it's naive - sure, but it's absolutely in keeping with the way I feel about life and music. you're sharing a little bit of yourself, when you make something like this, and that's the best feeling. I'm gobsmacked that it ended up in a museum, but I'm also enormously proud. 

Bonus points for noticing that DWT ended up as the title of my MP3 blog, a couple of decades later. 

A little pause, for breath.

I had a few days when all of the pressure was really starting to get on top of me. So I withdrew. It kind of helps, but at the same time, it doesn't, if you know what I mean? All you're really doing is kicking that can down the road, but it's essential for your sanity. 

Anyway - back to it. Specifically, organising an American tour,m which is an enormous undertaking. Here's hoping it'll be a blinder.  

Georgie James have been helping me straighten myself out. This is pure comfort, for me. Always has been. 

Skateboarding unlocked my mind

 All these years later, I'm only now starting to understand how much of my life has been shaped by Skating, not just by Skating itself - but by reactions to it and how I looked for the same creativity everywhere. 

Skating taught me that talent wasn't everything - style was. Skills and tricks are fine, but there's an attitude and a flow, which only the greatest skaters have. They display that attitude, even when rolling along, not doing much at all. The video above, of Antwuan Dixon, is a case in point: it's amazing in terms of tricks - hammers, everywhere. But more than that, he is the epitome of a style and flow which is at once effortless yet completely breathtaking to watch. At around 55 seconds, he lays down a nose slide to 270. Every time I see it, I'm stopped in my tracks. It's like he's not even aware of what he's doing or how good he is. He is just....there, in the moment. 

Ever since I stepped on a board, I've been looking for those moments constantly. Not just in Skaters, either: in musicians, TV presenters, actors, friends, and lovers. Do they have that flow, that sense of being at ease, that creative grace? It's like a door you can open to let your true self shine out. 

Dreams, and their reasons.

 I dream of University years a lot. I did it last night. There doesn't ever seem to be an external impetus for dredging up these thoughts: it's something which has been internalised. My uni years were really a story in two parts. Firstly, the opportunities which I seized, which would come to define my life. i learned how to be a DJ, met all of the bands who passed through the colleges and clubs, and made friends and contacts throughout the musical community. Little by little, I was moving towards some sort of career where music would play a part. 

But also, it's a three-year period marked by academic underachievement and disappointment. I never worked, never stretched myself. I never applied my mind to my studies, and that's always a source of regret. Could it be that? Could it be those regrets that still bubble up and bother my subconscious?

Moonlight thoughts

 I love that shot - the moonlight pouring in through the patio window. The light really was like that; there were no filters. Around 10.30pm. 

There I was, looking out at this magical landscape, thinking about time again. I've been obsessed with the idea that time is cyclical (something I know I've referenced before in this blog), but a recent dip into a book about Zen has refined my thinking process. I've narrowed it down to the tension between duality and unity. The thought that the duality of our location in a simultaneous past and future can be anchored by the unity of a grounding in the present. The power of that sudden explosion of perfect stasis, an acceptance of one's current position. 

All of that whilst looking at moonlight on a rug. I love how (without being too tautological) that moment can be truly momentary, yet that's its greatest impact. 

And even more!

 Marmalade wasn't enough. 

Today I made Semolina. With jam. Bloody hell, it was great. 

I'm now listening to Aberfeldy, and I'm just a little overwhelmed at how wonderful they were. I love music when it does this to me; it fills me with a sense of wonder and thanks. Still, it's bewildering to think that I first heard them exactly twenty years ago. The same timespan as this blog. Life stretches out around me, I'm forever thankful for it's marvels. 

More nostalgia

I'm sitting here with memories flooding over me. The Met line was a massive part of my life when I lived in Hatch End. That's partly in terms of the sheer volume of journeys I made, but it's also about how those journeys opened the city up. The Metropolitan felt unique to me, a bridge from the suburbs to the centre of London. The carriages were different to other lines, as well. Because the journey time from places like Amersham or Rickmansworth could be over an hour (or more!), the seats were in transverse blocks. It gave the impression that you were embarking on an adventure, settling in to watch the countryside change from fields to houses to the cut-and-cover of the centre of town. It was in contrast to other lines, some of which you passed on your way to Baker Street. You would take the fast line from Wembley Park down to Finchley Road and pass Jubilee Line trains dawdling past Neasden or Dollis Hill. These looked and felt like city-centre tubes but out in the open. A series of stops in a constant, unbroken line. Whereas the Met line would be powering on, past it all. It felt like a way to unlock the city whilst maintaining your place far from it in a suburban Idyll. 
 

Getting traditional.

 I've no idea how it happened, but I've suddenly felt the need to eat Marmalade for Breakfast. I guess it could be a hankering for stability, nostalgia and comfort, but it's still odd, seeing as I've never really eaten the stuff before. Got to say, though, I love it. that tightrope between bitter and sweet, the refreshing zing of citrus, the perfect wakeup routine. 

And breakfast is all about routine for me. I like to start the day in order, in a calm and steady state. I need to feel predictable, planted and prepared. Marmalade seems to give a roadmap for the day ahead. 

However, it's a roadmap which doesn't include anything outdoors, for now. the bike is still in the shed, and the trainer is still taking the strain. The Ice is subsiding, but it's cold, and miserable out there. Spring may well arrive soon, but it's not here yet. 

I need to get out.

 

It's just one of those days. The pipes are freezing again, we need a plumber. it's cold, misefable and bleak. I want, more than anything, to get on my bike and ride off into the sun. i'd like to be powering up Sa Batalla, or even Coldharbour, for that matter. I'm not fussy.

Memories

And lots of them.

Today I had one of those moments when time stops being linear. I know I've been banging on about this for a while, but my life really does seem to be cyclical - like there's no end and no beginning, but the flow of time is constantly all around me, in all directions.  I was picking milo up from school when I suddenly felt and saw all the other days I'd been there. Through the various stages of his life. The sunny afternoons, the plasters on the knees, the excited clambering up the climbing frame. And it's not just the past, but it's the potential of all the days of his life moving forward, too. It was immensely moving - quite breathtaking. One of those moments when time doesn't just slow down, it rushes outwards, like ripples in a pond. And there I am, in the middle of it all. As I slowly move around, I can see the past and the future. Life's amazing. 

Analogue blues

 I don't know where musical urges come from. I'll be gripped by a sudden need to hear something at certain points. The oddest thing, though, is that it doesn't even have to be a particular song. It can just be a genre, a sound, a feeling, or a memory. It's like grasping for something: pulling a solid shape from a shifting background. 

So today is all about sawtooth waves. SH101's. Analogue synthesisers. I feel comfortable when I hear them: I'm not sure why. It has to be nostalgia - but it's less cut and dried than wanting to hear old records. It's tied in with how they were made and the boundaries that were being pushed in their creation. A feeling of hope and possibility. A feeling that now was tomorrow. A fluttering in the stomach and a spring in one's step. Looking out at a world which was brimming with potential. All of it within reach. 

not learning lessons

 Hammered up the Galibier yesterday. Looking at my stats, I did 94% of the climb at threshold, which is just daft. I did end up with a PB but was exhausted by the end of it. 

There really is something about the Galibier for me. It's that, of all the climbs, it has that sense of dread and foreboding. As you ascend, the landscape becomes ever more empty and barren, unlike Ventoux, where it's lunar, but - post-apocalyptic. There's a sense of battle being joined: just you and the hill. That's the kind of challenge that I relish - but it always ends up being rather too gung-ho for my own good. 

Overall though, there's been a marked improvement in my cycling since I started Xert, and did my best to train properly. My FTP is up, but that's a sometimes inaccurate gauge of ability. Many of my gains can be attributed to learning to pace rides properly. I'm trying not to go off too hard, to drop my watts by about 20 or 30. that means I can sustain the effort. 

Also, a lot of the ennui and nihilistic despair I felt last week seems to have dissipated. There's a lesson: hang on it there; it will always get better. I'm very grateful for that. 

Straight out of the blocks

See that? That's basically last week's big ride. Part one of the Sella Ronda, in the Dolomites. I have this propensity to just go off, way too hard, for the first ten or fifteen minutes. That's an Xert graph, so the purple line is my MPA, or maximum power. As you can see, when you continually crank out the watts, your theoretical maximum power will drop, to the point where your effort crosses that line. That's known as a "breakthrough", but it invariably comes when you've pushed so hard that you can't do much more. All well and good - but perhaps not in the first 10% of a ride!

Thus, I've been working on getting more pacing into my rides. A little more restraint. Will it work? I'd like to hope so!