I just got back from the Folsom Cyclebration. An event so exciting the had to start smashing words together just to get the whole concept across without melting people's cerebellum. All sarcasm aside it was a fun event and I was able to attend with my sister and dad. All the big bike dealers were out, some very impressive machines out there. All in all and wholly suprising lack of pretension. Perhaps it has something to do with the pure nature of man's might expressed honestly through the best of machinery he has devised to cover ground: No motors to blame, nothing but rubber across terra firma singing harmony to the breathing.
Sister has been getting into triathlons. I think that's the perfection of the ideal. Here, we have devised various means of human locomotion across spans, various terrain, and water. About all there is save the skies. Let us place them all in single competition.
Currently reading Watchmen, by Alan Moore and Gibbons, and am finding it terrifically compelling. Borrowed from LG, major hat tip there, finding a lot of what I suspected, expertly delivered, however, with exceptional interplay between the text and the art. I can see the movie spawning a very receptive re-admiration for the piece. It having compelling contemporary parallels, "the War (Vietnam)," our current conflict etc; the decimation of the hero concept, predestination vs. human potential, and an overall existential angst almost. A true coming to the end of the humanist's equation with appropriate terror, desperation, and hatred. Dr. Manhattan plays the perfect visionary to the modern dilemma, and his cold, not entirely dispassionate, yet alienated (definitely author intended; a once-human finding home on Mars) sense of being is the phantasmic highlighting that remains dutifully subtle in order to counter-balance the main plot's spiraling insanity.
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