Tomorrow will be the first day in almost two weeks that I won't have a car to drive myself to work. As many free drink I've still been seeing every weekend, the cars have been being loaned to me nearly as frequently.
And as incredibly convenient that they have been in cutting down the commute to work and allowing me to use them for little errands like grocery shopping, as soon as I have to fill them up with gas I am immediately reminded just how little interest I have in actually have in owning a car again.
It's an incredibly generous offer that I will take every time from a friend in borrowing a car. But as soon as I would have to pay insurance, repairs (etc) would be when my interest in an automobile would cease.
And despite the colder weather now arriving, I still haven't abandoned my bike. In fact, I used it to go food shopping today. Today was the very type of day that I had been romanticizing when living in Portland and such a day that I wanted to ride my bike on just to show it possible. Once I got past the brief moment that I thought I was fucking crazy for ever romanticizing such a stupid thought, I warmed up and made it back and forth with an enjoyable ease even with the winds picking up.
So even on a day when I was mostly lazy (but not drinking at least), I did manage to accomplish something I had set out to in my return.
Showing posts with label bikes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bikes. Show all posts
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Tuesdayoff
I'm doubtful that today's day off couldn't've gone much better.
After making my initial posts here for the day I went on to finish reading the book, Jailbird, I had started a few days ago. From there, very restless with the amount of free time I had on my hands, I went for an hour and a half bike ride.
For whatever reason, I have long accepted the notion that Buffalo is a small city and that the only healthy areas it has are Elmwood, Hertel and, to a lesser extent, Main St.
The truth is that Buffalo is a small city relative to the many other cities on the planet. And 280,000 people is still a lot of people unless compared to the 6,500,000,000 of us funny little creatures running around on the same planet. A planet which we also accept as small, but this is true only when compared to other known planets.
But to me, on a bike, the planet is fucking enormous. And even Buffalo is big. Big enough even to house neighborhoods I have never been in. Thankfully, I found a few of them today. In fact I went down eleven streets I had never been on before: Florida St, Hedley Pl, Hughes Ave, Blaine St, Beverly Rd, Meech St, Oak Grove Ave, Loring Ave, Burbank Dr, Meadowview Pl, Agassiz Cir that lead me to the previously unvisited Medaille College that anyone who has ever driven on the 198 has been next to while waiting at the light at Parkside.
Some of the views include:
Beverly Rd, which with its consistent row of houses with the median in the road and those seemingly ancient street lights rotating direction gives me yet another street scape that makes me immediately think of Buffalo:
Trees on Hughes Ave, right behind Canius College, that I didn't think grew that tall in Buffalo. Or survived the October storm for that matter:
Florida St, where I see five distinct Buffalo characteristics in this view:
1. Parking Lot Front property (though that may be more of an American characteristic than specifically just a Buffalo one)
2. An empty parking lot
3. Sparse, unhealthy looking trees
4. A boarded up attic window
5. A plastic covered window
From there I slowly made my way through Forest Lawn Cemetery for a few pics:
Death Front Property:
Once I returned home I caught up with a lot of the small daily distractions that I tend to put off in the name of not annoying myself like straightening up my room, catching up on emails (I'm still behind) and continuing some other things I've been meaning to spend some time working on.
I did catch a couple of brief naps, as well as a brief Seinfeld for my only TV (as opposed to those long Seinfelds). By the end of the day I did take one more bike ride after making dinner and am now winding up the day with a little bit of posting here and the hopefully some reading before I go to bed.
All in all, not a bad day. Seeing what I can do with an entire free of drinking or a hangover it almost makes me wish I didn't drink.
Almost.
After making my initial posts here for the day I went on to finish reading the book, Jailbird, I had started a few days ago. From there, very restless with the amount of free time I had on my hands, I went for an hour and a half bike ride.
For whatever reason, I have long accepted the notion that Buffalo is a small city and that the only healthy areas it has are Elmwood, Hertel and, to a lesser extent, Main St.
The truth is that Buffalo is a small city relative to the many other cities on the planet. And 280,000 people is still a lot of people unless compared to the 6,500,000,000 of us funny little creatures running around on the same planet. A planet which we also accept as small, but this is true only when compared to other known planets.
But to me, on a bike, the planet is fucking enormous. And even Buffalo is big. Big enough even to house neighborhoods I have never been in. Thankfully, I found a few of them today. In fact I went down eleven streets I had never been on before: Florida St, Hedley Pl, Hughes Ave, Blaine St, Beverly Rd, Meech St, Oak Grove Ave, Loring Ave, Burbank Dr, Meadowview Pl, Agassiz Cir that lead me to the previously unvisited Medaille College that anyone who has ever driven on the 198 has been next to while waiting at the light at Parkside.
Some of the views include:
Beverly Rd, which with its consistent row of houses with the median in the road and those seemingly ancient street lights rotating direction gives me yet another street scape that makes me immediately think of Buffalo:
Trees on Hughes Ave, right behind Canius College, that I didn't think grew that tall in Buffalo. Or survived the October storm for that matter:
Florida St, where I see five distinct Buffalo characteristics in this view:
1. Parking Lot Front property (though that may be more of an American characteristic than specifically just a Buffalo one)
2. An empty parking lot
3. Sparse, unhealthy looking trees
4. A boarded up attic window
5. A plastic covered window
From there I slowly made my way through Forest Lawn Cemetery for a few pics:
Death Front Property:
Once I returned home I caught up with a lot of the small daily distractions that I tend to put off in the name of not annoying myself like straightening up my room, catching up on emails (I'm still behind) and continuing some other things I've been meaning to spend some time working on.
I did catch a couple of brief naps, as well as a brief Seinfeld for my only TV (as opposed to those long Seinfelds). By the end of the day I did take one more bike ride after making dinner and am now winding up the day with a little bit of posting here and the hopefully some reading before I go to bed.
All in all, not a bad day. Seeing what I can do with an entire free of drinking or a hangover it almost makes me wish I didn't drink.
Almost.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Tonight's Bike Ride, Part II: Do Nothing About It
If the best things in life are indeed free then what are we working ourselves to death for?
For me, it’s the desire for travel. To move around and stay in motion because that motion is a motion against the stability of the settling down I still swear I am against. I am aware of the possibility to do it as a hobo for no money at all, but I am also aware of a certain standard that I am still unwilling to compromise.
(And it is in having something to actually work for—Goddamnit—that ultimately prevents me from begrudging anyone who does work, whether it be for a home or a family or what have you, because we each have our carrot on the stick that we find worth working for. If nothing else, maybe I am just trying to chase a stick of celery, one I will salt the hell out of, instead of a the same carrot stick?)
And that’s why I still work: just for the possibility of going somewhere else again.
Yet it’s hard for me, even with that possibility lingering, because, besides having to tell myself I am not compromising my idea of doing nothing, when I work I pressure myself to be constructive with my time when I come home and if I am not I almost overwhelm myself with a sense of disappointment (with myself). But when I don’t work, I do not have that urge to do anything at all; only the desire to literally do nothing at all and find little disappointment with such a thing. Perhaps that is yet another reason why I grow so easily frustrated with the idea of work: it requires of me (thanks to internal pressure from myself) to do a specific kind of nothing instead of whatever kind of nothing I wish to do. It inhibits even my options of nothing.
And it’s always hard for me to do something specific (just to sit here and write this is usually difficult because I always know that I could be doing something else—I still haven’t hung up the picture my roommate drew of me sleeping on the couch; I could put my rear light back on my bike) because doing something specific is doing something. And vice versa, doing something is to do something specific. Or, doing nothing specific is doing nothing.
Like the Renaissance Man who is an expert in nothing but familiar with everything, I do not want to be tied down to one specific thing at any given moment. I do not need an expert to support what experience itself can show me and thus can find myself overwhelmed by all the options that are before me when I wish to do nothing at all.
By the end of my bike ride, my body was well exercised and my mind a bit more focused. I was glad to be riding in Buffalo but knew that I didn't plan on staying there forever. And I was even reassured that it would be alright for me to sit here for a short time and write out some thoughts, and even waste a few more months working, because it was by no means ever required to do so. Nothing specific ever is required for me to do. I just find myself thinking that it is sometimes and that's when I need to do nothing about it, like go on a bike ride. Then I find myself back at ease and in the moment of eternal nothingness.
For me, it’s the desire for travel. To move around and stay in motion because that motion is a motion against the stability of the settling down I still swear I am against. I am aware of the possibility to do it as a hobo for no money at all, but I am also aware of a certain standard that I am still unwilling to compromise.
(And it is in having something to actually work for—Goddamnit—that ultimately prevents me from begrudging anyone who does work, whether it be for a home or a family or what have you, because we each have our carrot on the stick that we find worth working for. If nothing else, maybe I am just trying to chase a stick of celery, one I will salt the hell out of, instead of a the same carrot stick?)
And that’s why I still work: just for the possibility of going somewhere else again.
Yet it’s hard for me, even with that possibility lingering, because, besides having to tell myself I am not compromising my idea of doing nothing, when I work I pressure myself to be constructive with my time when I come home and if I am not I almost overwhelm myself with a sense of disappointment (with myself). But when I don’t work, I do not have that urge to do anything at all; only the desire to literally do nothing at all and find little disappointment with such a thing. Perhaps that is yet another reason why I grow so easily frustrated with the idea of work: it requires of me (thanks to internal pressure from myself) to do a specific kind of nothing instead of whatever kind of nothing I wish to do. It inhibits even my options of nothing.
And it’s always hard for me to do something specific (just to sit here and write this is usually difficult because I always know that I could be doing something else—I still haven’t hung up the picture my roommate drew of me sleeping on the couch; I could put my rear light back on my bike) because doing something specific is doing something. And vice versa, doing something is to do something specific. Or, doing nothing specific is doing nothing.
Like the Renaissance Man who is an expert in nothing but familiar with everything, I do not want to be tied down to one specific thing at any given moment. I do not need an expert to support what experience itself can show me and thus can find myself overwhelmed by all the options that are before me when I wish to do nothing at all.
By the end of my bike ride, my body was well exercised and my mind a bit more focused. I was glad to be riding in Buffalo but knew that I didn't plan on staying there forever. And I was even reassured that it would be alright for me to sit here for a short time and write out some thoughts, and even waste a few more months working, because it was by no means ever required to do so. Nothing specific ever is required for me to do. I just find myself thinking that it is sometimes and that's when I need to do nothing about it, like go on a bike ride. Then I find myself back at ease and in the moment of eternal nothingness.
Tonight's Bike Ride, Part I: Any Road
With the continuation of summer that we are experiencing here in Buffalo I made the most of it tonight by taking an unplanned bike ride with no destination in sight.
I’ve been having a lot of thoughts running through my mind lately and a body in motion calms the mind.
The bike ride took me through some of the North Buffalo neighborhoods. It was a little after eight o’clock and there was still enough traffic and noise to remind me that I wasn’t in the suburbs though the houses and wide streets in the area certainly suggested the possibility. For a brief second I thought that, were I in the market as a homeowner—and my how I laughed at the idea of picturing myself being one, if not more than a little frightened that one day I will probably concede defeat and find myself begrudgingly mowing my lawn on a Sunday morning (because if you think I’m going to pay someone to do something that I can do myself you must be fucking crazy!)—this would be the sort of neighborhood that I would look for a home in.
But looking for a home is the very thing that someone who is doing something with their life would do. And I, a no one wishing to do nothing with his life, want nothing to do with that. At least not now.
In fact, many of my thoughts lately have dwelled on what I my next move is going to be.
I have been more than happy to be back in Buffalo. And I still have a lot of things to do that I wished to do in moving back. But at the same time it has also come to a point where it’s feeling a little weird being back here too. Perhaps some nouns—or people, places and things if I was taught correctly—that I found in Portland are missed more than I thought they would be; perhaps the idea that there are so many other nouns to be discovered everywhere; or perhaps even the idea of doing nothing only in Buffalo sounds static enough to me that I have begun weighing my options.
And thus, I keep working so as to have those options.
I’ve been having a lot of thoughts running through my mind lately and a body in motion calms the mind.
The bike ride took me through some of the North Buffalo neighborhoods. It was a little after eight o’clock and there was still enough traffic and noise to remind me that I wasn’t in the suburbs though the houses and wide streets in the area certainly suggested the possibility. For a brief second I thought that, were I in the market as a homeowner—and my how I laughed at the idea of picturing myself being one, if not more than a little frightened that one day I will probably concede defeat and find myself begrudgingly mowing my lawn on a Sunday morning (because if you think I’m going to pay someone to do something that I can do myself you must be fucking crazy!)—this would be the sort of neighborhood that I would look for a home in.
But looking for a home is the very thing that someone who is doing something with their life would do. And I, a no one wishing to do nothing with his life, want nothing to do with that. At least not now.
In fact, many of my thoughts lately have dwelled on what I my next move is going to be.
I have been more than happy to be back in Buffalo. And I still have a lot of things to do that I wished to do in moving back. But at the same time it has also come to a point where it’s feeling a little weird being back here too. Perhaps some nouns—or people, places and things if I was taught correctly—that I found in Portland are missed more than I thought they would be; perhaps the idea that there are so many other nouns to be discovered everywhere; or perhaps even the idea of doing nothing only in Buffalo sounds static enough to me that I have begun weighing my options.
And thus, I keep working so as to have those options.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Blowin' in the Wind
If Buffalo wasn't already so self-conscious about it's weather reputation--not to mention the inevitable lawsuits that Buffalonians would certainly level against any signs of such change--I would suggest it should do it's best to rightfully claim for itself the title of "The Windy City" from Chicago.
I already knew that statistically speaking Buffalo is windier, but this has also been something that I've noticed the entire time I've been back, especially on bike. It seems that it is windy almost all of the time here. And not just breezy, but actually windy.
It certainly helps keep the air moving on yet another unseasonably warm day like today (unless you live on the east side of a duplex that faces north and south) but you can't prepare for how sharp it's going to get in the winter. Probably a lot worse in wind chill factor than Chicago.
As to why Buffalo is afraid to embrace anything that allows it to claim any sort of distinction, even if is supposedly bad whether (you really couldn't spin that into a positive in any way? How Buffalonian to be so easily defeated!), I would be surprised and confused about if only I needed to look no further than everywhere to see just how alike each of us is and just how negatively most react to even the slightest observed difference, if not an altogether supposed defect, we see in others.
As the old adage goes something like, I am the only one who can allow myself to be embarrassed. It's too bad Buffalo seems so embarrassed about being a cold weather city. Strange, but certainly human. But, whatever, let Buffalo continue to deny it's windy and cold reality. I however know it's best to ride a bike towards the east and preferably during the summer around here.
I already knew that statistically speaking Buffalo is windier, but this has also been something that I've noticed the entire time I've been back, especially on bike. It seems that it is windy almost all of the time here. And not just breezy, but actually windy.
It certainly helps keep the air moving on yet another unseasonably warm day like today (unless you live on the east side of a duplex that faces north and south) but you can't prepare for how sharp it's going to get in the winter. Probably a lot worse in wind chill factor than Chicago.
As to why Buffalo is afraid to embrace anything that allows it to claim any sort of distinction, even if is supposedly bad whether (you really couldn't spin that into a positive in any way? How Buffalonian to be so easily defeated!), I would be surprised and confused about if only I needed to look no further than everywhere to see just how alike each of us is and just how negatively most react to even the slightest observed difference, if not an altogether supposed defect, we see in others.
As the old adage goes something like, I am the only one who can allow myself to be embarrassed. It's too bad Buffalo seems so embarrassed about being a cold weather city. Strange, but certainly human. But, whatever, let Buffalo continue to deny it's windy and cold reality. I however know it's best to ride a bike towards the east and preferably during the summer around here.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
A Short Open Letter: To the City of Buffalo
(Which leads me to this.)
Buffalo:
You know I love you—even if I don’t necessarily know why (see: obvious painful end to Bills’ game on Sunday)—which is probably why you don’t give a damn about these complaints. As such, they must be aired.
It’s bad enough that you’ve allowed the majority of both the people and jobs to move away to the suburbs—as opposed to having them all in one obvious place like downtown maybe—all but requiring a car due to the lack of any light rail system like most cities might have in the 21st century. And it’s bad enough that everyone here instinctively suggests that I should just get a car as the obvious solution to such travel demands. But if you had one person for every ten shards of glass in the streets, New York City would be the Queen City; if the streets weren’t lined with nails and potholes perhaps those jobs in the suburbs would seem a bit more accessible.
But they’re not and they won’t be any time soon. And so I get pissed off at you and how demanding you can be and the mindset of the people here—though I’m really enjoying getting to hear the accent again—even though I know I still love you.
But that doesn’t mean I will allow you to change me. I won’t change for anyone or anything no matter how much I love them. I gave up on the car for my own reasons and I will only take it back up for my own as well, if I ever do at all. But I can assure you that if I do it will not be for a job, and especially not one in the fucking suburbs.
So now I’m leaving it up to your Metro System. Maybe, even though the subway/light rail line doesn’t go all that far, perhaps the buses will make up for that. Holding my breath will be withheld, though I hope to be surprised.
Just be reliable long enough before I ultimately quit. Maybe a month or two. That’s it.
That shouldn’t be too much to ask and I hope it isn’t, not even here because I am glad to be back and hope to be here a while still. Should I need to leave for reasons as arbitrary as poor public transportation I will do so with no hard feelings but would do so still nevertheless.
So now it’s up to you. Thanks.
And, hopefully, thanks for the ride.
Buffalo:
You know I love you—even if I don’t necessarily know why (see: obvious painful end to Bills’ game on Sunday)—which is probably why you don’t give a damn about these complaints. As such, they must be aired.
It’s bad enough that you’ve allowed the majority of both the people and jobs to move away to the suburbs—as opposed to having them all in one obvious place like downtown maybe—all but requiring a car due to the lack of any light rail system like most cities might have in the 21st century. And it’s bad enough that everyone here instinctively suggests that I should just get a car as the obvious solution to such travel demands. But if you had one person for every ten shards of glass in the streets, New York City would be the Queen City; if the streets weren’t lined with nails and potholes perhaps those jobs in the suburbs would seem a bit more accessible.
But they’re not and they won’t be any time soon. And so I get pissed off at you and how demanding you can be and the mindset of the people here—though I’m really enjoying getting to hear the accent again—even though I know I still love you.
But that doesn’t mean I will allow you to change me. I won’t change for anyone or anything no matter how much I love them. I gave up on the car for my own reasons and I will only take it back up for my own as well, if I ever do at all. But I can assure you that if I do it will not be for a job, and especially not one in the fucking suburbs.
So now I’m leaving it up to your Metro System. Maybe, even though the subway/light rail line doesn’t go all that far, perhaps the buses will make up for that. Holding my breath will be withheld, though I hope to be surprised.
Just be reliable long enough before I ultimately quit. Maybe a month or two. That’s it.
That shouldn’t be too much to ask and I hope it isn’t, not even here because I am glad to be back and hope to be here a while still. Should I need to leave for reasons as arbitrary as poor public transportation I will do so with no hard feelings but would do so still nevertheless.
So now it’s up to you. Thanks.
And, hopefully, thanks for the ride.
Bend But Don't Break
Even though my stated goal to “work as little as possible” automatically suggests a certain amount of work will have to be performed, I nevertheless despise the time that must be dedicated to the act. Obviously. And my constant irritation over the last week was only amplified as I have slowly begun to feel as though I’ve been completely compromising myself in the way in which I have been working.
My spending for the month of August, though exactly on par as to what I said I would spend per month over the course of the year, still felt far too extravagant. There is no reason why I should be spending nearly $1000 a month—especially not on going out so much. Also, the willingness I’ve shown in spending the necessary time to travel the nine miles each way to the job—not even all that noticeably shorter by car—is equally excessive in its extravagance in my opinion. Combined with my savings being lower than where they should be—and thereby making me feel as though I had to keep working even though they are enough to get me by for at least the next month and a half—and, by last week, a mounting misery was accumulating.
And then, in the face of yet another flat tire on the way to work, I realized that, while I will bend my beliefs—and hopefully only temporarily—I will ultimately not allow them to be broken. As I have tried every which stubborn way to get to work on my bike with only frustrating success at best, I told the kid I’ve been working with that I will no longer be riding my bike to work and will instead rely only upon rides from friends and public transportation. If that will not work, I told him, then I will simply have to find something else closer to home. Even if that means less pay.
And from that came a soothing sense of relief. It may not quite be a teenage girl standing in front of an army tank, but it at least reminded me there’s only so much I’m willing to do in the course of working. Just as well, it reminded me to stop allowing my thoughts to be governed by arbitrary numbers that must continually accumulate and simply trust that I will be able to eat each day and, beyond that, nothing more need be considered necessary.
My spending for the month of August, though exactly on par as to what I said I would spend per month over the course of the year, still felt far too extravagant. There is no reason why I should be spending nearly $1000 a month—especially not on going out so much. Also, the willingness I’ve shown in spending the necessary time to travel the nine miles each way to the job—not even all that noticeably shorter by car—is equally excessive in its extravagance in my opinion. Combined with my savings being lower than where they should be—and thereby making me feel as though I had to keep working even though they are enough to get me by for at least the next month and a half—and, by last week, a mounting misery was accumulating.
And then, in the face of yet another flat tire on the way to work, I realized that, while I will bend my beliefs—and hopefully only temporarily—I will ultimately not allow them to be broken. As I have tried every which stubborn way to get to work on my bike with only frustrating success at best, I told the kid I’ve been working with that I will no longer be riding my bike to work and will instead rely only upon rides from friends and public transportation. If that will not work, I told him, then I will simply have to find something else closer to home. Even if that means less pay.
And from that came a soothing sense of relief. It may not quite be a teenage girl standing in front of an army tank, but it at least reminded me there’s only so much I’m willing to do in the course of working. Just as well, it reminded me to stop allowing my thoughts to be governed by arbitrary numbers that must continually accumulate and simply trust that I will be able to eat each day and, beyond that, nothing more need be considered necessary.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Flat Tires
Over the last three weeks I have had four separate occasions in which my bike tire(s) went flat. It’s almost like the world wants me to have a car. And had they been car tires I would have let these instances single-handedly ruin my days, if not weeks. But because I know how to patch up a bike tire I tend to take the flats a little more in stride. Not to mention that the do-it-yourself ability of patching a tire up is a lot better than having to wait for AAA or a car mechanic to help you out. It’s just the tip of the iceberg in the do-it-yourself mentality that fills up entire books with ways to become more self-sufficient.
Though four times is a bit steep, so after the latest I finally wised up and bought a new tube.
Though four times is a bit steep, so after the latest I finally wised up and bought a new tube.
Monday, August 20, 2007
I Can Stand a Little Rain
I don’t know what it was about riding a bike in the rain today—with very little brakes and having almost wiped out turning a corner on a rain run off (thingie?)—that not only didn’t piss me off but actually had me slightly smiling like a mad man. But I’ll be damned if I am going to sit here and try to think of a reason. Sometimes feelings about a feeling aren’t even necessary and it’s just best to allow the original feeling to exist on its own. But the fact of it is that I was even willing to stop off and do some food shopping and lugged home the bag willingly even though the rain had yet to subside. The open air can always have an intoxicating effect if one simply lets it.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Cheap Reads
To start off my bike ride today, I made my way up to Oracle Junction on Delaware Ave in Kenmore. If Buffalo were the size of a real city—not in population but in land size (only Miami, Boston, and San Fran, off the top of my head, are comparable in land size)—then Kenmore would certainly be a part of Buffalo. (And so even though I was technically in the suburbs I didn’t feel like it was cheating. And yes, this is something I have to justify to myself.) The stretch between Kenmore Ave and just north of Mang Ave is as much as city streetscape as any of the other notable streets in Buffalo with its many storefronts that come to the sidewalk and require parking in front of the stores or on side streets, allowing for a structural consistency that is not broken up by annoying parking lots. And though I have no official stats to back up this statement, I wouldn’t be surprised if the stretch actually has a higher occupancy rate than any of the other streets in Buffalo. It certainly appeared to be the case.
For all the attention that Rust Belt Books gets for being Buffalo’s great used bookstore—always voted the winner in the Best of Buffalo polls—despite not having hours posted and often being closed when I ride down to it at a time I’ve seen it open before (weekday between 6-7pm), Oracle Junction easily has it beat, even if you don’t take advantage of calling it “OJ.”
Used books—hell, books in general—should be amongst the cheapest commodities in our economy, passed on as much for the money to be made (of course money has to be made) as much as the information being exchanged. But Powell’s in Portland charged at least $5 for used paperback books; Rust Belt charges seemingly no less than $3 for most; Oracle Junction charges $1 (sometimes $1.50).
And today they were having a 1/3 off sale.
Though it does not have the immediate availability of some more modern writers—I’d’ve immediately bought any Bukowski, having finally recently discovered him, had they had any of his books—my brother, who let me in on the OJ secret and frequents the place far more than I do, has said you can find them if you look hard and frequently enough. They do however have just as an extensive, if not more so, collection of most of the writers collectively called the Classics as Rust Belt at the previously said cheaper rate.
So just in knowing that I was paying less I was more eager to give a book or two a chance that I wouldn’t otherwise think twice about not buying for a few bucks more. I walked up to the counter with 7 books and as I handed over the $6 to pay my $5.40 bill, the owner gave back the dollar and kept the five saying that was good enough.
It just kept getting cheaper. (And I guess so do I.)
In contrast, from there I road over to Main St. to check out Talking Leaves, the only independent new bookstore that I know of in Buffalo (I could be wrong and wouldn’t mind if I was). I had in my hands a copy of Wittgenstein's Mistress that I’ve really wanted to read for some time. But it was $12.95 (plus tax in Buffalo). And even though that was, by new book standards, a very reasonable price, I had seven books in my bag that I had just bought for $5, not to mention a stack at home of unread books that I bought for $.50 apiece a couple months ago as well as the book I was currently and eagerly reading that I had just been given for free (thanks Sarah).
This all compounded by the fact that I have been sluggish in my reading habits as of late. Reading is not something I look to do to kill time and keep me entertained—I hardly have a moment where I don’t have something I want to do—but instead only something I do to be inspired and influenced by. But I’ve only read two books and two longer short stories since the beginning of July, mostly because I haven’t needed inspiration from any foreign source lately, but also because so many books seem to be so accepting of the idea that work is a necessary part of our daily lives and would have served only as unwanted distractions that would have kept me from working on this idea of my own.
So even though I really wanted that book, I couldn’t justify paying that much for it. It didn't have anything to do with Talking Leaves charging too much. New books just cost too damn much. I’ve gone this long without it I’m sure I can continue to do so.
That’s an attitude that could keep a hell of a lot more people out of debt. And maybe even drive down prices of a lot more things (for those interested in such thoughts).
For now at least, there's still Oracle Junction for me.
For all the attention that Rust Belt Books gets for being Buffalo’s great used bookstore—always voted the winner in the Best of Buffalo polls—despite not having hours posted and often being closed when I ride down to it at a time I’ve seen it open before (weekday between 6-7pm), Oracle Junction easily has it beat, even if you don’t take advantage of calling it “OJ.”
Used books—hell, books in general—should be amongst the cheapest commodities in our economy, passed on as much for the money to be made (of course money has to be made) as much as the information being exchanged. But Powell’s in Portland charged at least $5 for used paperback books; Rust Belt charges seemingly no less than $3 for most; Oracle Junction charges $1 (sometimes $1.50).
And today they were having a 1/3 off sale.
Though it does not have the immediate availability of some more modern writers—I’d’ve immediately bought any Bukowski, having finally recently discovered him, had they had any of his books—my brother, who let me in on the OJ secret and frequents the place far more than I do, has said you can find them if you look hard and frequently enough. They do however have just as an extensive, if not more so, collection of most of the writers collectively called the Classics as Rust Belt at the previously said cheaper rate.
So just in knowing that I was paying less I was more eager to give a book or two a chance that I wouldn’t otherwise think twice about not buying for a few bucks more. I walked up to the counter with 7 books and as I handed over the $6 to pay my $5.40 bill, the owner gave back the dollar and kept the five saying that was good enough.
It just kept getting cheaper. (And I guess so do I.)
In contrast, from there I road over to Main St. to check out Talking Leaves, the only independent new bookstore that I know of in Buffalo (I could be wrong and wouldn’t mind if I was). I had in my hands a copy of Wittgenstein's Mistress that I’ve really wanted to read for some time. But it was $12.95 (plus tax in Buffalo). And even though that was, by new book standards, a very reasonable price, I had seven books in my bag that I had just bought for $5, not to mention a stack at home of unread books that I bought for $.50 apiece a couple months ago as well as the book I was currently and eagerly reading that I had just been given for free (thanks Sarah).
This all compounded by the fact that I have been sluggish in my reading habits as of late. Reading is not something I look to do to kill time and keep me entertained—I hardly have a moment where I don’t have something I want to do—but instead only something I do to be inspired and influenced by. But I’ve only read two books and two longer short stories since the beginning of July, mostly because I haven’t needed inspiration from any foreign source lately, but also because so many books seem to be so accepting of the idea that work is a necessary part of our daily lives and would have served only as unwanted distractions that would have kept me from working on this idea of my own.
So even though I really wanted that book, I couldn’t justify paying that much for it. It didn't have anything to do with Talking Leaves charging too much. New books just cost too damn much. I’ve gone this long without it I’m sure I can continue to do so.
That’s an attitude that could keep a hell of a lot more people out of debt. And maybe even drive down prices of a lot more things (for those interested in such thoughts).
For now at least, there's still Oracle Junction for me.
Hangover Free Saturday
Despite my ongoing efforts to minimize my spending, I’ve still managed to go out every Friday night. Last night was the first to the contrary as I saved some money by doing laundry at my folks' house and I and my friends were too tired to go out by the time we got back up to Buffalo.
So in lieu of sleeping through a hangover today, I was able to get up at the incredibly early (weekend) time of 10:00AM. I almost felt like a normal adult—it’s not the best feeling in the world, but it has an (only) advantage over a hangover in that you aren’t required to shake through it—as I went food shopping first thing on my Saturday morning. I made my first trip to Guercio’s in almost three weeks and was immediately reminded why I love that place so damn much after only spending $11.70 on what will be most of my food for the week.
From there I came back to prepare for something that I’ve done every year with my friends that I’ve known ever since elementary school. And even though I have an increasingly waning interest in it, one that has prevented me from being competitive in it in years, it does keep me in touch with them and it is, after all, free. I speak of course of our fantasy football draft. (My teams have gotten so bad that my keeper this year was Rudi Johnson.)
The draft started at 1:00 so I naturally began preparing for it at just about 12:40 for the first time. And of course, even though I had the second pick overall, my preference was taken first and I was left to settle for plan B. All told the draft took a little more than two hours, which isn’t even that long, but by the end I was getting terribly impatient because today was a beautiful, cool summer day and I didn’t care to be wasting it indoors sitting at my computer (I am currently indoors sitting at my computer writing this -ed.)
So as soon as we finished (Michael Vick was my last pick) I was almost immediately on my bike. Come fall I'll be more (but still not overwhelmingly) willing to waste time on the Internet. But summer is too short to be letting it pass me by.
So in lieu of sleeping through a hangover today, I was able to get up at the incredibly early (weekend) time of 10:00AM. I almost felt like a normal adult—it’s not the best feeling in the world, but it has an (only) advantage over a hangover in that you aren’t required to shake through it—as I went food shopping first thing on my Saturday morning. I made my first trip to Guercio’s in almost three weeks and was immediately reminded why I love that place so damn much after only spending $11.70 on what will be most of my food for the week.
From there I came back to prepare for something that I’ve done every year with my friends that I’ve known ever since elementary school. And even though I have an increasingly waning interest in it, one that has prevented me from being competitive in it in years, it does keep me in touch with them and it is, after all, free. I speak of course of our fantasy football draft. (My teams have gotten so bad that my keeper this year was Rudi Johnson.)
The draft started at 1:00 so I naturally began preparing for it at just about 12:40 for the first time. And of course, even though I had the second pick overall, my preference was taken first and I was left to settle for plan B. All told the draft took a little more than two hours, which isn’t even that long, but by the end I was getting terribly impatient because today was a beautiful, cool summer day and I didn’t care to be wasting it indoors sitting at my computer (I am currently indoors sitting at my computer writing this -ed.)
So as soon as we finished (Michael Vick was my last pick) I was almost immediately on my bike. Come fall I'll be more (but still not overwhelmingly) willing to waste time on the Internet. But summer is too short to be letting it pass me by.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Traffic Lights
All these years driving in Buffalo and hitting, seemingly, every goddamned light red, I finally realized what the lights were timed for: 12mph bikes. I hit 22 out of 30 lights without having to stop on my last bike ride. On my most recent car drive I probably came to the same number of lights and there was no way I hit more than a 1/3rd of them green. Who says cars are always quicker?
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
[bad idea] Bum In a Lane
If bike riders were to get bike lanes for equal access to the streets (and they have), it would stand to reason that the only natural reasonable progression of unprejudiced access of the road for all would be to next begin lining the streets with lanes reserved for shopping carts being pushed by bums. The "bum lane" we could call it (I'm sure I'll even use it one day). I’ve had to pass enough bums and carts—not always both at the same time oddly enough—in the last few days to recognize this fact. Perhaps Buffalo could even be the leader in such progressive thinking. It’d be the first such instance for the city since electricity, but they’re somewhat comparable achievements. And definitely equally worthy of admiration and pride.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Job Hunt Begins
For the obvious affordability of being able to go out and still get drunk, on Wednesday nights such as these, at least when having some money to spend, I usually go down to Chippewa St. to La Luna for their $5 cover charge to drink at their open bar from 11-1am. Since the bartenders are amongst the best I’ve encountered, and on this night swamped with work, I usually walk out having spent around $10 total after tips. Win, win? As far as I can see it (which isn’t always so far by 1:00).
However, I’ve come to the point now, financially, that I pretty much cannot afford to go out, even for practically free booze, and find myself home instead tonight. When faced with the predicament of not working but not being able to go out, or working but being able to go out, I’m sure a man testing a theory of not working would stand by his guns and be resigned to not go out.
But let the record show—and I can’t stress this enough—I am no man. (And if all goes accordingly to plan I never will be.) Obviously I would prefer to be able to drink and not work but sometime ago, not knowing precisely how long, it was decided—collectively?—that we should not enjoy ourselves all that much and should instead spend our precious time working. For what I don’t know, but it is inarguable. So instead, I’m now left living with the compromise that I would rather work and drink than not drink at all.
(I could still be drinking but it is my desire for both beer and home that separates me from being a bum—and that may be all, which I am fine with.)
And so, foreseeing this forthcoming event, I began the all too depressing idea of searching for a job today. I did it quickly on my first day, like ripping off a band-aid, and hope something will come of it soon and simply end the search as quickly as possible. At this point, I see no difference between one job or the other no matter what the pay or what the job—they are all simply jobs. I will almost guarantee that I will take the first possible job that comes my way (though, it will be interesting to see just how much stubborn pride I harbor that might effect just how much I truly believe that).
To forget that I was even out looking for a job today though, I immediately took up my housemate Daren’s offer to go on a bike ride right after I got home. He too just moved back to Buffalo after a three year hiatus under the same circumstances as me: he just wanted to come back because he missed the feeling of it, saved some money to do so, and will also possibly be looking for a job soon enough (though another friend, Todd, might have lined him up for one already—one I was more than willing to concede to Daren for the simple reason that it was full-time).
Armed with similar enthusiasm to see the city again anew, we road down to the water with no particular end in mind and cameras in hand. For a city that rightfully dreams constantly of a more developed waterfront, I have been surprised to find just what there already is in the way of access to the Niagara River and Lake Erie. In the last two weeks alone I’ve found bike paths going onto Squaw Island at two different locations, and the bike path that goes under the Peace Bridge, down along the lakefront through LaSalle Park, all the way to HSBC Arena.
There are always things to do and places to do them. It’s only a mindset. Just as much as people are willing to believe that the only way to move back to Buffalo is by having a good job lined up, if people are willing to believe that there is nothing to entertain them at all on the waterfront, they will not even bother to test otherwise and accept this as a truth. But it doesn’t always take a proverbial Columbus to prove the world isn’t flat. For the exceptions who have personally gone down to the Squaw Island and LaSalle Park bike paths they have found one of the many pointlessly unknown reserves of the city that I can now proudly say I know of too.
Along these paths we stopped several times to take pictures. Both Seinfeld fans, Daren and I, we also realized that we now have an area where we can go down and contemplate a possible engagement and even began thinking of how we could recreate those moments from the show, even using the seagulls down by the water.
From the viewpoint in LaSalle Park we got a good look at the new windmills—how dare they build those on land that has historically been vacant and useless: it’s historical land!—that were recently put up and decided to try to bike our way down there. But, not knowing that the Sky Way—we can’t knock that down, it’s a historical eyesore; a part of our history!—is the only way over both the Buffalo River and the City Ship Canal, thus cutting us off from the shoreline temporarily, we rode around a little, got to take in the work along the excavated parts of the Erie Canal—how dare they excavate historically unexcavated lands!—and then decided upon just riding back up through downtown.
We probably spent another half an hour riding around downtown taking a few more pictures including a really cool alley view of the back of a building and its old fire escapes near Washington and Lafayette Square that Daren found while [ticketable action deleted] at Thursday in the Square last week.
All told we road around about two hours. We were able to take in and appreciate a number of places and views that we hadn’t bothered to find before and swore we would upon our return. And, perhaps more importantly, I realized that, as we sat on our front porch to cool off on a much more endurable summer evening, I even forgot about the impending doom of the job hunt.
The medicinal powers of a body in motion.
As for next time, we plan on riding all the way out to see the new windmills up close.
However, I’ve come to the point now, financially, that I pretty much cannot afford to go out, even for practically free booze, and find myself home instead tonight. When faced with the predicament of not working but not being able to go out, or working but being able to go out, I’m sure a man testing a theory of not working would stand by his guns and be resigned to not go out.
But let the record show—and I can’t stress this enough—I am no man. (And if all goes accordingly to plan I never will be.) Obviously I would prefer to be able to drink and not work but sometime ago, not knowing precisely how long, it was decided—collectively?—that we should not enjoy ourselves all that much and should instead spend our precious time working. For what I don’t know, but it is inarguable. So instead, I’m now left living with the compromise that I would rather work and drink than not drink at all.
(I could still be drinking but it is my desire for both beer and home that separates me from being a bum—and that may be all, which I am fine with.)
And so, foreseeing this forthcoming event, I began the all too depressing idea of searching for a job today. I did it quickly on my first day, like ripping off a band-aid, and hope something will come of it soon and simply end the search as quickly as possible. At this point, I see no difference between one job or the other no matter what the pay or what the job—they are all simply jobs. I will almost guarantee that I will take the first possible job that comes my way (though, it will be interesting to see just how much stubborn pride I harbor that might effect just how much I truly believe that).
To forget that I was even out looking for a job today though, I immediately took up my housemate Daren’s offer to go on a bike ride right after I got home. He too just moved back to Buffalo after a three year hiatus under the same circumstances as me: he just wanted to come back because he missed the feeling of it, saved some money to do so, and will also possibly be looking for a job soon enough (though another friend, Todd, might have lined him up for one already—one I was more than willing to concede to Daren for the simple reason that it was full-time).
Armed with similar enthusiasm to see the city again anew, we road down to the water with no particular end in mind and cameras in hand. For a city that rightfully dreams constantly of a more developed waterfront, I have been surprised to find just what there already is in the way of access to the Niagara River and Lake Erie. In the last two weeks alone I’ve found bike paths going onto Squaw Island at two different locations, and the bike path that goes under the Peace Bridge, down along the lakefront through LaSalle Park, all the way to HSBC Arena.
There are always things to do and places to do them. It’s only a mindset. Just as much as people are willing to believe that the only way to move back to Buffalo is by having a good job lined up, if people are willing to believe that there is nothing to entertain them at all on the waterfront, they will not even bother to test otherwise and accept this as a truth. But it doesn’t always take a proverbial Columbus to prove the world isn’t flat. For the exceptions who have personally gone down to the Squaw Island and LaSalle Park bike paths they have found one of the many pointlessly unknown reserves of the city that I can now proudly say I know of too.
Along these paths we stopped several times to take pictures. Both Seinfeld fans, Daren and I, we also realized that we now have an area where we can go down and contemplate a possible engagement and even began thinking of how we could recreate those moments from the show, even using the seagulls down by the water.
From the viewpoint in LaSalle Park we got a good look at the new windmills—how dare they build those on land that has historically been vacant and useless: it’s historical land!—that were recently put up and decided to try to bike our way down there. But, not knowing that the Sky Way—we can’t knock that down, it’s a historical eyesore; a part of our history!—is the only way over both the Buffalo River and the City Ship Canal, thus cutting us off from the shoreline temporarily, we rode around a little, got to take in the work along the excavated parts of the Erie Canal—how dare they excavate historically unexcavated lands!—and then decided upon just riding back up through downtown.
We probably spent another half an hour riding around downtown taking a few more pictures including a really cool alley view of the back of a building and its old fire escapes near Washington and Lafayette Square that Daren found while [ticketable action deleted] at Thursday in the Square last week.
All told we road around about two hours. We were able to take in and appreciate a number of places and views that we hadn’t bothered to find before and swore we would upon our return. And, perhaps more importantly, I realized that, as we sat on our front porch to cool off on a much more endurable summer evening, I even forgot about the impending doom of the job hunt.
The medicinal powers of a body in motion.
As for next time, we plan on riding all the way out to see the new windmills up close.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Heat and Humility
The nearly unbearable heat and humidity that last couples of days has basically prevented me from doing just about anything other than irritably and immaturely overreacting to the constant sticky feeling that I’ve had for the last three days. When I’ve ridden my bike that breeze is only a temporary relief to the full body sweat that is awaiting me as soon as I stop, so I haven't ridden that much. It’s been so hard for me to concentrate to even so much read that I watched a movie yesterday, something I rarely do, and the entire baseball All-Star Game tonight, something I probably haven’t done since I was twelve (just a couple of years ago if you ask the right person), just to take my mind off of the heat. And I swear that the next fucking bug that lands on my monitor (I write this in the late night dark, undried from a shower just to be able to sit still long enough to hopefully finish it) just might land a perfectly justifiable punch that will more than likely break my hand rather than the monitor. And yet I’m still not convinced that I won’t do it.
Still, I was able to get my weekly food shopping in this morning. When your house is on the eastern end of a duplex and facing south (or north for that matter), there isn’t much in the way of what is popularly known as “air movement” brought on by wind blowing into your house unless you have a fan or two (we only have one and it’s on the opposite side of the house from my room). This lack of movement creates a somewhat—that is: somewhat insufferable—warm, uncomfortable, and still air that sits smugly in the house all night and day. If you manage to get any sleep, it’s not even that good of a sleep and makes you wish you didn’t even bother wasting your time.
So when one finally steps out of the house from this sort of setting, it seems a lot cooler than it is. So as my roommate and I walked out to ride our bikes to Wegman’s, we thought it was far cooler than it was. Only after getting to Wegman’s and leaving did we finally realize otherwise.
(A bug came by again and I tried to smack the shit out of it—I went with more of a slap—but I goddamned missed him. It won’t happen again.)
After unloading those groceries we then went to my new favorite place for food, and where I now do the majority of my grocery shopping, Guercio and Son’s market over on Grant St. By no means a well-kept secret, as evident by the lines always accompanying the deli and the checkouts, I nevertheless had never gone there until just a couple weeks ago. It is now a weekly stop if not more frequent.
For a store that has an old-time feel in the face of the overabundance of a Wegman’s and the impersonal convenience of convenient store, it offers exactly all I need in the manner of both abundance and convenience. Half the bike ride that it is for me to Wegman’s and, by all noted calculations, cheaper or on par with most of the items that I buy there, it’s an obvious preference for me
(And why in the hell does my left hand smell like a goddamned flower/weed all of a sudden?)
Combined between the two stores I spent just over $24 for the week. Other than the half gallons of milk that I’ve been buying at the Lexington General Store just across the street for $.99 (better even than a gallon deal at Wegman’s), that will pretty much be the entirety of my spending for food this week. In fact, it is just under half of the $52.23 I’ve spent thus far for at least two weeks’ worth of food, putting me right in the $100-$125 per month on food, which I will be tallying as a separate field and figure that it will either be the second or third biggest expense each month.
This is more than affordable enough, especially considering that today I found out that we haven’t paid our deposit in full and we’ll have to pay a little extra over the next few months in rent to even that out, thus giving me my first unexpected expenditure of the year. This normally wouldn’t be a big problem except that normally people have a job to pay such bills. To make matters a little more irritating I finally did my federal tax return today (filed for an extension in April due to a long overdue W-2) and am getting $100 less that I originally thought and planned for. This of course means that I have to step up my job search immediately.
And by step up I mean begin. And that might be the most irritating idea of the entire irritating few days.
(You never really know just how much you have to look at the keyboard for characters like ‘$’ or parenthesis until you try typing in the dark, which you’re only doing in hopes to spare yourself of the one more degree the light would add to the room.)
I hear that it isn’t supposed to be more than 80 degrees for the next week and I certainly hope this is true. Because my room still feels like 95 degrees, I haven’t got a decent night’s sleep in three days and probably won’t again tonight, bugs keep coming out of nowhere and in different shapes (just had to kill a spider spinning down from the ceiling that went right in front of my face), the beads of water that I didn’t dry from my body now feel like bugs so that they very water I meant to cool and calm me is now further irritating me, and I think my right hand now smells like that weed or flower as well.
(And now my computer, with propitious timing, is acting obnoxiously slow.)
If it’s the little things in life that make it enjoyable then it’s certainly true that it’s the little things that make it sometimes insanely irritable.
At least I have food and a place I like to get it.
Still, I was able to get my weekly food shopping in this morning. When your house is on the eastern end of a duplex and facing south (or north for that matter), there isn’t much in the way of what is popularly known as “air movement” brought on by wind blowing into your house unless you have a fan or two (we only have one and it’s on the opposite side of the house from my room). This lack of movement creates a somewhat—that is: somewhat insufferable—warm, uncomfortable, and still air that sits smugly in the house all night and day. If you manage to get any sleep, it’s not even that good of a sleep and makes you wish you didn’t even bother wasting your time.
So when one finally steps out of the house from this sort of setting, it seems a lot cooler than it is. So as my roommate and I walked out to ride our bikes to Wegman’s, we thought it was far cooler than it was. Only after getting to Wegman’s and leaving did we finally realize otherwise.
(A bug came by again and I tried to smack the shit out of it—I went with more of a slap—but I goddamned missed him. It won’t happen again.)
After unloading those groceries we then went to my new favorite place for food, and where I now do the majority of my grocery shopping, Guercio and Son’s market over on Grant St. By no means a well-kept secret, as evident by the lines always accompanying the deli and the checkouts, I nevertheless had never gone there until just a couple weeks ago. It is now a weekly stop if not more frequent.
For a store that has an old-time feel in the face of the overabundance of a Wegman’s and the impersonal convenience of convenient store, it offers exactly all I need in the manner of both abundance and convenience. Half the bike ride that it is for me to Wegman’s and, by all noted calculations, cheaper or on par with most of the items that I buy there, it’s an obvious preference for me
(And why in the hell does my left hand smell like a goddamned flower/weed all of a sudden?)
Combined between the two stores I spent just over $24 for the week. Other than the half gallons of milk that I’ve been buying at the Lexington General Store just across the street for $.99 (better even than a gallon deal at Wegman’s), that will pretty much be the entirety of my spending for food this week. In fact, it is just under half of the $52.23 I’ve spent thus far for at least two weeks’ worth of food, putting me right in the $100-$125 per month on food, which I will be tallying as a separate field and figure that it will either be the second or third biggest expense each month.
This is more than affordable enough, especially considering that today I found out that we haven’t paid our deposit in full and we’ll have to pay a little extra over the next few months in rent to even that out, thus giving me my first unexpected expenditure of the year. This normally wouldn’t be a big problem except that normally people have a job to pay such bills. To make matters a little more irritating I finally did my federal tax return today (filed for an extension in April due to a long overdue W-2) and am getting $100 less that I originally thought and planned for. This of course means that I have to step up my job search immediately.
And by step up I mean begin. And that might be the most irritating idea of the entire irritating few days.
(You never really know just how much you have to look at the keyboard for characters like ‘$’ or parenthesis until you try typing in the dark, which you’re only doing in hopes to spare yourself of the one more degree the light would add to the room.)
I hear that it isn’t supposed to be more than 80 degrees for the next week and I certainly hope this is true. Because my room still feels like 95 degrees, I haven’t got a decent night’s sleep in three days and probably won’t again tonight, bugs keep coming out of nowhere and in different shapes (just had to kill a spider spinning down from the ceiling that went right in front of my face), the beads of water that I didn’t dry from my body now feel like bugs so that they very water I meant to cool and calm me is now further irritating me, and I think my right hand now smells like that weed or flower as well.
(And now my computer, with propitious timing, is acting obnoxiously slow.)
If it’s the little things in life that make it enjoyable then it’s certainly true that it’s the little things that make it sometimes insanely irritable.
At least I have food and a place I like to get it.
One Bike, No Car
Of my few monthly expenditures one may immediately notice my lack of a car payment. A little over a year ago now I decided to give up owning a car. I had more than enough of the monthly payments just to keep it, the insurance payments, the rising costs of gasoline, the parking tickets one is more than likely to get in a city, and, more than anything, the random unforeseen repair expenses of having a used car.
So now, other than the occasional ride I take from a friend going to the same place, I use my bike. I ride to the grocery store, to my friends’ houses, to the bars—just about anywhere not in walking distance. Economically speaking—and I’d say that’s the biggest reason I do not want a car anymore—I figure it saves me $2000 alone on gas and insurance alone over the course of a year, and that’s an amount based on having to pay lower insurance rates for a used car and only accounting for $20 a week in gas. Not to mention, as another example, that a bike, for all the people spending money to join gyms, is free daily exercise for me.
Best yet, bike time is slow time, allowing a man to think about nearly anything without the stress of hoping to hit each light green or of having to slow down due to traffic. No matter how fast I ride I won’t really make up any time, so I plan my time much more accordingly on a bike (though, not currently having a job, I rarely have to be anywhere by a certain time). The streets and people are more personally accessible and all the surroundings of a city within reach. The breeze more noticeable, the heat and cold more personable.
A common assumption generally made is that in hearing an endorsement of one thing, one can then assume the opposite to be something the endorser is against. But this is based on the one-dimensional thinking that we have been trained to think within—left or right; blue or red; black or white; wrong or right, never a third option or another possibility. But my personal endorsement in my own particular way of living, such as abandoning a car for a bike, should not be viewed as a complete rejection of its opposite. It is such a frustrating and seemingly natural instinct amongst the human species to assume that one is either for us or against us when the overwhelming truth may just be that one is completely disinterested in, but unthreatening to, us—or anything for that matter—because they have their own personal ways of thinking, unalterable by others no matter how convincing or convenient.
I have friends who make far more money than me, have far more traditionally secure jobs and others who drive cars. And yet at the end of the day they are my friends, not enemies. I do not expect them to think exactly as I do. If we are to surround ourselves only by those who are exactly like us we seclude ourselves from our own weaknesses, our own inevitable narrow mindedness.
So in living in this manner, I am simply seeking to set an example and show how it is possible to live in this manner and endorse it, and all the details that come from it, for my own self and no further. I do not find it necessarily any better or worse than any other way except in the way it directly relates to my life and my experience. Perhaps it’s stubborn mistake but I trust that everyone is the one best capable of deciding what’s best for themselves so long as it does not directly harm others. I am no different and will not encroach on one’s own ability to think for themselves so long as they grant me the same.
That said, this past Sunday I met up with a group that meets at midnight for a late night ride to somewhere and anywhere in Buffalo. Other than the Forty I bought, the ride was free. I’d say the group this week, my first time on the ride, had at least 80 people along for the ride, maybe more. We met just off of Richmond, headed down to Allen and then back up Elmwood before ultimately heading towards the river. I found new bike routes, traveled through the cool Sunday night Buffalo air—an air I remembered and missed since the moment I originally left it—and also got to meet a few new people who, refreshingly sharing in our common interest of riding our bikes, might have different views on other ways of living and thinking.
And I hopefully will never get tired of hearing and finding new ones of those.
So now, other than the occasional ride I take from a friend going to the same place, I use my bike. I ride to the grocery store, to my friends’ houses, to the bars—just about anywhere not in walking distance. Economically speaking—and I’d say that’s the biggest reason I do not want a car anymore—I figure it saves me $2000 alone on gas and insurance alone over the course of a year, and that’s an amount based on having to pay lower insurance rates for a used car and only accounting for $20 a week in gas. Not to mention, as another example, that a bike, for all the people spending money to join gyms, is free daily exercise for me.
Best yet, bike time is slow time, allowing a man to think about nearly anything without the stress of hoping to hit each light green or of having to slow down due to traffic. No matter how fast I ride I won’t really make up any time, so I plan my time much more accordingly on a bike (though, not currently having a job, I rarely have to be anywhere by a certain time). The streets and people are more personally accessible and all the surroundings of a city within reach. The breeze more noticeable, the heat and cold more personable.
A common assumption generally made is that in hearing an endorsement of one thing, one can then assume the opposite to be something the endorser is against. But this is based on the one-dimensional thinking that we have been trained to think within—left or right; blue or red; black or white; wrong or right, never a third option or another possibility. But my personal endorsement in my own particular way of living, such as abandoning a car for a bike, should not be viewed as a complete rejection of its opposite. It is such a frustrating and seemingly natural instinct amongst the human species to assume that one is either for us or against us when the overwhelming truth may just be that one is completely disinterested in, but unthreatening to, us—or anything for that matter—because they have their own personal ways of thinking, unalterable by others no matter how convincing or convenient.
I have friends who make far more money than me, have far more traditionally secure jobs and others who drive cars. And yet at the end of the day they are my friends, not enemies. I do not expect them to think exactly as I do. If we are to surround ourselves only by those who are exactly like us we seclude ourselves from our own weaknesses, our own inevitable narrow mindedness.
So in living in this manner, I am simply seeking to set an example and show how it is possible to live in this manner and endorse it, and all the details that come from it, for my own self and no further. I do not find it necessarily any better or worse than any other way except in the way it directly relates to my life and my experience. Perhaps it’s stubborn mistake but I trust that everyone is the one best capable of deciding what’s best for themselves so long as it does not directly harm others. I am no different and will not encroach on one’s own ability to think for themselves so long as they grant me the same.
That said, this past Sunday I met up with a group that meets at midnight for a late night ride to somewhere and anywhere in Buffalo. Other than the Forty I bought, the ride was free. I’d say the group this week, my first time on the ride, had at least 80 people along for the ride, maybe more. We met just off of Richmond, headed down to Allen and then back up Elmwood before ultimately heading towards the river. I found new bike routes, traveled through the cool Sunday night Buffalo air—an air I remembered and missed since the moment I originally left it—and also got to meet a few new people who, refreshingly sharing in our common interest of riding our bikes, might have different views on other ways of living and thinking.
And I hopefully will never get tired of hearing and finding new ones of those.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)