Bike. The Story.

So sometimes I get carried away with life and forget to chronicle certain things.  Sometimes that time is always, at least since September 30th.  It's not like the three people who read this actually care because they are people that I talk with more or less on a regular basis anyways, but the act of writing is enjoyable and I regret not getting my jollies off at your expense.  I regret not being able to talk more about my jollies.  Well this is My Blog 2.0, now with 100% more personal jolly removal, which will promptly be forgot once more until My Blog 3.0, Tokyo Drift is released.

The main reason I'm updating now is that I've finally finished purchasing all the parts that one needs to build a bike, and furthermore, I've even started building it.  There are a few things that got in the way of forward progress prior to last night.  One is that I don't actually own a decent set of tools, and there are more than a few specialized tools when working on bikes that make everything easier, if not outright possible where things were previously not.  For instance, there is this high tech tool for installing the fork crown race:

Yes, those are cassettes whose sole purpose for existence is to be a spacer.  Eventually we had another stem attached on there, with handlebars no less, to get the spacers about the top of the fork for hammering.  Also, a perfectly docile peice of wood was reduced to shards in this process.  12/15/2001 - The day the wood gave its life for bicycles.  Any professional mechanic who saw this would immediately assume that I was this animal:

Anyways, here is some bike porn.  Check out my parts:

Also shown, sick tablecloths.  I should take this opportunity to note that my friend Nate Mlot, who is a self-trained, entirely proficient, generally insane bike mechanic and grad student in Dr. Hu's lab helped me with many things, including but not limited to: having any idea what the fuck was going on; owning tools like the one above (also, some actual tools that are more exotic like bottom bracket tools and an improvised headset installer); and torquing things down when my pathetic excuses for shoulders exceeded their capacity to apply forces greater than 5 lbs.  With his help, the bike slowly went from looking like a pile of parts, a few old wheels, and a designer device for hiding the tops of tables from food items to a bike.

Slowly shit is getting added on.  Check out that sick saddle.  You like that matching blue, don't you?

Addition of fork, rear wheel, crankset, cassette, rear derailleur

SAME SHIT, DIFFERENT VIEW

Later, back at my place, it's starting to look like a bike!

So really there are just a few things to do at the moment.  One is I need to cut down the steer tube on the fork to the proper size and finish installing the headset.  Then I need to a bunch of smaller shit, like tape the bars, add the shifters, route the cable, adjust the cable tensions, put the chain on, add pedals, bask in the glory of a new bike, etc.  One minor thing came up, however.  Apparently without all the cabling in place, the handlebars will swing around violently if left to their own devices.  I had the bike propped up against a bike stand when this happened and the bike slid down the side of the stand and fucked up the paint on the top tube kinda near the Quest logo.  It's minor and cosmetic, but I know its there so now it's all I look at.  That being said, this thing is looking sick as hell.  When I get around to it, I'll take some photos with my G9 so that the camera phone blur is removed and you can be as excited as I am.  ETA for completion is Sunday (just gotta get that steer tube cut and the rest will be cake).  Badass. 

-Dt

You gotta help me

You gotta help me, doc doc doc doc docta beat



What is up with that hat?  It's like the flying nun meets Krusty the clown.  It's terrifying.  I don't know how I should handle my eyeballs anymore.

At least I know how to handle my earballs:



This song greeted me at Octane this morning and really just set the tone right for the rest of my day.  Getting work done, thinking about bikes, not getting work done anymore because I'm thinking about bikes, not being able to ride bikes because of my shoulder, stopping thinking about bikes, getting work done, etc.  And then at the end of it all will be this:

http://fluxprojects.org/

Balling with the ballerifics.  Big shout out to Eliot for his work on the dodecacycle, which will obviously be pulling a gypsy band in tow as it rolls through Castleberry Hill.  Obviously.  But wait, what is a dodecacycle?  12 wheels, 6 bikes, all linked together, riding like a parallel tandem bike down the street with Big Pimpin' playing in the background (sans the music).  Should be pretty wild.

And now, the last week in review:

Someone came to Ultimate on Saturday (in which I did not play, but partook with beer on the sidelines) with this crazy dog.  This crazy dog that fits in a frisbee.  Chester's frisbee.

 I super want this bag, although it's huge... but I guess that's the point.  Super weatherproof, super rad, can expand to 65 fucking liters.  That is the size of my backpacking pack.  Ridic.

 Picture review of Fox Bros BBQ in Atlanta:  We (Eliot + David) got to the restaurant, tucked away in South Atlanta and packed out because the weather was awesome.  We were seated inside almost immediately, after which we were assaulted by good looking waitresses demanding our orders for foods.  Because it was our first time at FBBBQ, we went for the tantalizing appetizer of deep fried pork ribs.  Yep, that happened.  Grade: A

 Part 2:  After (during?) a delicious Sierra Nevada Torpedo IPA, our main courses arrived, which were not so much courses as duplications of one course, because great minds think alike.  Pulled pork is, after all, the litmus test of good BBQ, and I was not disappoint.  The white meat was a little tough, but the darker stuff just fell apart, and the Fox-a-roni (brunswick stew + mac and cheese) was incredible.  Decent sauce too.  I can see the fuss (the ribs were better).  Grade: B+ (deductions for tough whiteys)

 Then I got bored in my Transducers class.

And ate some corn like a boss.

It's been a pleasure.

More to come after FLUX tonight.

-Dt

Tech Students be Stealin...

Fellow Yellow Jackets,

 

 

 

 

Students stealing the ‘T’s on Georgia Tech’s campus has become an urgent matter.  Not only is it aesthetically displeasing, it has also become a heavy financial burden on the Institute, costing well over $100,000 in the past year alone.  While the issue is more widespread amongst the undergraduate population, as a student you should be aware of the "Keep the 'T' in Tech"campaign.
 

We know that you have pride in our Institute and want for our campus to reflect that pride.  The campaign simply intends to remind all of us that we do not support vandalism of our beautiful campus and that we want to Keep the ‘T’ in Tech.  There are many ways to show your support this week-
 

All Week: Signature CampaignCheck out sga.gatech.edu/t

Tuesday: Open Forum
Want to be a part of the solution?  Stop by and share your opinion at 7:30pm in Room 117 of the Flag Building.

Wednesday: Amnes‘T’y Day
If you’ve ever stolen a T before this week, now is your chance to do the right thing.   Drop off your T to the Ramblin’ Reck on Tech Walkway from 11am-2pm or drop it off in the SGA office from 9-5pm.  We don’t care who, what or why. 

After this one Wednesday, the administration will be enforcing serious disciplinary measures in any situations where a student is found to have stolen a T at any point in time.

***Also Wednesday - Live the True Tradition***
Wednesday night, 8:30 pm, Tech Tower
See with your own eyes the tradition that you’ve only heard stories about.

Thursday: ‘Make your own T’ Day
You don’t need to steal Ts off buildings- make your very own!  Stop by Tech Walkway from 11am-2pm to paint, glitter and bejewel your very own T.

Friday: Check out the Technique!

Thank you for your time and for supporting Yellow Jacket pride!

Student Government Association

Hilarious.  I heavily appreciate the no questions asked T-returning day policy.  Reminds me of Dogma.

-Dt

So last weekend, I got seriously Mom'ed.  Yes, that's a word because I am the president of words, and yes, I got flown back to LA for a weekend (last minute trip) because Mom wanted me to get checked out by "real doctors".  I'll be the first to admit that the doctors at student health centers are typically not the elite members of their profession, but this seemed a little excessive.  Then again, even against fervent denials from Mom, I think this was a thinly veiled attempt to get me home for some quality time.  Can't say I didn't like it.

I arrived Thursday night and went to the see the doctor at 8:30 the next morning.  She moved my arm around, had me move my arm around, then had me move my arm around while pressing against her arm (not moving around), and lo and behold, the shoulder was still fucked in exactly the same way.  Science!  I did, however, get a flu shot and a tetanus vaccination out of the deal, so now I am well fortified.  Forty-fied?  That came later.

The real highlight of the impromptu vacation was the quality time I got to spend with my favorite LA residents (sans one or two, you know who you are): Mom and Joe, Sara and Dylan, John, Ian, and Dave.  In the short span of 3 nights, the world became clear once more and the shenanigans piled high into the sky like divine nachos.  Of course, considering that I was mostly drunk between the hours of 5pm and 2am each night, I didn't get a chance to take many pictures with my intelligent communications device, but I will do my best to use my words and describe a few highlights.  In the form of Haiku.

My shoulder is broke
Woe is me, what shall I do?
Barkeep, more beer please.

Music from up high.
Is that His divine presence?
Nay, John's house growls.

Sometimes you need air
As well as thirty dollars
To buy a giraffe.

Farmer's Market is,
among other things, a place
for great merriment.

A long time apart.
Old friends are the truest friends.
They become new again.

Drinking to excess,
To the past or to fight Zool?
Do them both at once.

Family is there.
Tired soul, weary body,
Family takes care.

And a smattering of pictures:

 Self explanatory

 That happened.

 It's impossible to put you in my head, but if you'd have been there when I took this, it would have been magical for both of us.

HAH.  It's a myth.

Not pictured: insanely good ramen, shrimp toast, and chicken meatballs at Robata Jinya (thank you again, Dylan!).  Get it.

-Dt

Yep.

Yup.

-Dt

Proof that Critical Mass is the source of all the world's misery

http://www.transalt.org/newsroom/magazine/2011/Summer/10

My favorite part:

Let's get right down to it: Do police officers hate cyclists?

No. But a lot of things have changed since the Critical Mass incident in 2007, when that rookie cop pushed a cyclist off his bike in Times Square. Now whenever an officer views a cyclist, he immediately associates them with Critical Mass riders and that incident. Even when I ride my bike to the precinct, I get that: “You riding Critical Mass? You one of them?”

Fuck Critical Mass.

-Dt

Man, I have to stop waiting so long between these damn posts.  Once a month is a terrible update schedule... I forget everything.  My mental sieve is completely incapable of retaining a single grain of time-sand, the most exquisite sand of all, not unlike kitty litter.  Each memory itself is too fine to be held in any meaningful container, but when the feline of experience takes a big fat piss and creates adventure, the time-sand clumps together so that we may observe said time-sand and admire its nugget-like properties.  Here are my recent time-nuggets.

Dagron*Con:

Dragon Con was a wild ride this year.  First off, they didn't let anybody into the con without a badge or a room key for a room in one of the host hotels.  The usual number of gawkers, crowd watchers, and general party dudes (cosplayers dressed as Michaelangelo notwithstanding) was drastically reduced because of this policy, but clever people, or people who were once clever and made friends the right sort of people, had no problem sneaking in and skulking about.  Meet spider 1 and spider 2:

 Spider 1: Obviously not a golfer.

Spider 2: Super green.  He doesn't want one solo cup, he wants all solo cups.

I got in with a little help from a Spartan:

Looks like a crime drama.

And then proceeded to drink a bike bottle half full of vodka (seriously, not a joke) and half full of monster.  The perfect social lubricant, and riding that high, Quonulous and myself began to weave our way through the crowd and play the pointing game.  The rules are simple:  Spider 1 picks any person they see and points at them and Spider 2 must go and engage in earnest conversation, usually around 5 minutes as a target.  Lets just say that I met a lot of people and had a lot of bizarre conversations.  I present to you a few of my favorite shots without commentary:

Thanks, Quon.

Also, if you even happen to be at Checkers at 3am, wearing an eye patch, and try to approach a group of people to talk to them by starting in with conversation about how you are missing an eye, and maybe, just maybe, some jerk decides to call you out and say you are faking with your patch, the best strategy (I have found) is to get really indignant and outraged about him calling attention to your disability.  Especially when you rally crowd support in your favor.  Just saying, if that ever happens, that might be the best bet.

*Wayne's World alternate ending woodelley woo effect*

Mobile Social:

So I did it.  I broke down and finally betrayed my own sensibilities.  I participated in a group bike ride (with a caveat).  

I'm sure all of you know why I hate Critical Mass.  I'm sure that, me being me, and me understanding that I'm me and what that means for the people around me, you've heard me say "don't get me started on Critical Mass" or "I don't want to talk about Critical Mass right now", which is immediately followed by me ranting about Critical Mass for about a half hour if nobody puts an end to the madness.  Lets just say it touches many nerves in many places in many interesting (from a Spanish Inquisition perspective) ways.  Thus when Eliot (again!  There is a common thread here) approaches me and tells me about a ride that follows traffic laws and doesn't parade itself around as false activism, I relented and joined.  I'm glad I did, because it's been a while since I rode anything with purpose other than commuting and it felt great to be the social part of a mobile social.  I find myself talking to random strangers a lot these days.  I guess it took a wakeup call to break the bubble.

I have no pictures (I was on a bike most of the night, fools), but a short summary includes a walk through a kind of shitty art gallery street, lots of hot dogs and beers at Elliot Street Pub, a free bike bottle, watching people pour molten hot iron into molds, and a night at Hand in Hand pretending to be a doctor/RN/Red Jesus in order to engage in conversation with a seemingly endless supply of first year Emory med students (called M1's I now know).  Ending with a cheesesteak from Woody's is only fitting.  Well played, David's life.

Tragedy:

And thus, we end on a sad note.  I have been getting into ridiculously good shape playing ultimate, soccer, and going to the gym a hell of a lot, and now all of that comes to a grinding halt.  While playing the first IM season ultimate game I tore up my shoulder, separating the AC joint (kind of a cool thing to read about, but shitty to feel) and removing myself from all athletic considerations for at least 3 weeks.  The upshot is that Mom doesn't trust the doctors at the health center and now I get a free trip to LA.  Time to get an MRI, mother fuckers!  I hear the best cure for shoulders is LA bar crawling.  I heard.  Somewhere.

Love and beers,

Dt