-ny-lon-i-swear-

have you heard? i have adult problems now.

pity there's nothing i can do except the close-your-eyes-wish-it-away. lecture the walls now and then.

lp8. monday13h20. was positively hollywood ft.cooperative sunrays, empty public spaces.

as if by magic

i admit i diss the ptot constantly here&everywhere and yet SAXO/IS/STARTING.

all is now forgiven (except the new&improved 1st stage: almost certainly means i'll miss l-b-l entirely. but then i suppose it's better than missing p-r entirely.)

in other news, i'm a spoiled brat who does none of the work required to make things happen in the real world.

and yet

i care about cycling

they keep harping on and on and on and on about tourism

and about how we are now in cycling's champions league

well guess what

cycling doesn't have a champions league

ask the man himself

so tell us pat, how hard did you have to try to make it appear so?

(and even if we took his vision seriously we'd still have one more level to go but who needs facts anyway)

on and on about how we'll be just like the tour, promise

(as if everyone that's going to read that newspaper are idiots that cannot fathom the existence of other bike races)

such a fantastically ignorant statement that it makes me want to smash things and cry and whatever it is that spoiled brats do

which reminds me i shouldn't take these things so seriously

you don't take these things seriously

i don't know how you do it

shouldn't people talk about things like these? but you need to establish goodwill first and how that happens i have no idea. i don't even know where in the net turkishpeopleinterestedincyclingofthewatchingkind go, or if such a place even exists. what's the point, besides, if i'm already convinced i know better & have an alarming tendency to assume other people are idiots and take refuge in the ivory tower of cycling wisdom that is my stupid brain, what then?

maybe i should just shut up.
make sure i don't starve in the not-so-near future.

i don't know how you do it.

breaking news

turkey officially hates cycling.

collegiate alpine skiing? really?

ten thousand years of peace.

i am sick of swings that are designed not to swing. with backs. armrests. slippery seats. cagelike contraptions to ensure little people don't slide out but everyone else perishes of somethingoother reflex. ones where a perfectly acceptable seat is attached to heavy five meter long chains.

and yet there i was (&feeling slightly uneasy because it was one of those moments when the real reality approaches to this romanticised version of itself where i wear hats and scarves and am endearingly quirky) listening to tju-tju (or, as some people [unless stats lie, more cycling-loving than you] may call it, txu-txu), watching the planes land, and if i didn't feel like i'm the most coordinated person to ever walk the earth like i do on more proficiently executed swings, well. it could be worse. i might have written a song about them.

there's this place where, let's say there is much circumambulation. it looks like the frickin' milky way. so warm and wide and floodlit and nice i can't handle it. (ask your own rhetorical question here.)