we are all a diameter.
The horses with their black manes, walk in circles around a post. How is it that their thin legs hold them, one with a small woman sitting atop its back? She wears a black helmet and riding pants. My mind jumps. I am on that beach in the Dominican Republic with Suzanne, riding one of the gentle beasts through the woods along the sand. It was hot, and my shirt was off. Long hair on the back, the humidity oppressive.
I look right and see a green field spotted with black cattle, their necks bent to the ground. Giant pink tongues slipping out, and pulling the grass into their giant pink mouths, a mess of teeth. Crows standing in a bunch. Huddled like old women, chatting about something or other. Worms perhaps. Their bird bone feet the tiniest of claws, quietly crunching on twigs. I imagine the sound of ice. Snowshoes. I have never worn snowshoes.
A farmer in the driveway leading up to the barn. He waves as I ride by. I imagine him shaking his head at all of the people out there in tight clothing on those bikes with such skinny tires. I am amazed at the trust we place in small diameters. Tires one inch across, if that. Dreams we can’t even measure. Hearts the size of an apple. Phone lines made of copper wire. I imagine this thin line running the length of the earth. As thin as veins, and full of the same blood. People calling other people to tell them they love them. People calling other people to tell them goodbye. People calling other people to tell them their son is dead. Their mother.
I push my legs up the hills and they burn. My mind complains about my bike being too stiff and hurting my hands, and then I think of Heather Starshine Jeavons, over there in Liberia watching people die in a refugee camp. Doing all that her enormous heart, steeped in courage can do to save those people, but some cannot be saved. Pregnant women who stumble into the bush to die.
I won’t even begin.
We are such fools here with our American bullshit. Cars and movies and houses and gluttony gluttony gluttony gluttony gluttony. More more more more lmoemr eomroemroemromeormeomre. Give me more.
And then the sound. The buzzing. I begin cussing immediately. Fuckers. You fucking pieces of shit. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU. And in a blinding mess of yellow and blue, the last one in red, the motorcycles pass me going 100 {?} mph. 100. How will I ever live to be 134 with these assholes out there. They hug the turns which means their right/left knee drops and they drift into the bike lane. Diameter. Distance. Small, small, distance. You are a mere 9 inches or so from me sir. One slight twist at the wrong instant, and that’s it. Lights out for Jeff Pitcher. You too you fuck. They should make those motorcycles cost more. Much much much much more. It shouldn’t be so easy to thin the already thin line of my existence. They whir off into the vast expanse of road, and I carry on.
I am back to Heather, and remember how quickly our own woes take over. our lives are truly relative. How do we empathize with others?
I look down at the storm drain. The sides of it climbing up and forming a sloping gutter, are covered in moss, and a rust colored stain. The amber, and deep reds are overwhelmingly beautiful with the green. Somehow, the water running its course looks white. Is white. I’m not sure how, but it is. Its beauty causes me to stop. it is one of the most beautiful things i have ever seen. I Drink water, and think about my favorite things. Remind myself that patience is indeed a virtue.
I grab the bars, and pedal. Push and push and push and push and push…..
We are all horses walking the circle. We are all a diameter of some sort. A measurement. A life.
Posted by jeff pitcher at February 29, 2004 01:51 PM
....................................
J,
"thou art to me a delicious torment"
~(r.w. emerson)
Posted by: m at February 29, 2004 10:48 PM
my best friend owns acres of farmland up north. idyllic rolling hills all around. fun haystacks to dive into.
no goats though, but horses, yes...& 2 adorable pet pigs that think they're dogs, always herding cattle. their names: oscar & mayer. =)
Posted by: B at March 1, 2004 01:49 PM
Actually we are all 1.618, ask Da Vinci. If anyone here gets this I will be truly amazed.
John "smarter than you all" Rensing
Posted by: John REnsing at March 1, 2004 02:03 PM
And another thing. You seem full of anger jeff. So many FUCK YOUs in that post. That's just righeous indignation though. Those guys on the motorcycles must have missed the "jeff pitcher only" sign posted at the begining of you ride. I am jealous of you jeff. you see the world with such clarity, no scales on your eyes! Must be nice. I wish I had my own blanket of righteousness to wrap myself in. (Ha ha, Now that's funny people, C'mon!)
But I digress...
jeff, I have come to the conclusion that you hate people. Every time you come back from one of your outings you chastise humanity for being there. "Fucking pieces of shit" Hmmm. Time for some earl grey and introspection. Maybe you should stay off that bike, too dangerous. Find another hobby. I prefer to stay home and clean the guns. Much more healthy.
E ala E, everyone, E ala E.
JOhn Rensing
Posted by: John Rensing at March 1, 2004 02:35 PM
Bumper sticker on a taxi truck yesterday -"Speed on brother, you don't want to lose your place in hell."
Posted by: k at March 1, 2004 03:11 PM
Simply for the sake of faint interest, 1.618 relates to the measure of PHI. It is the Golden Mean, the fleecing mathematical answer to any and all.
I too experience times where humanity has no place in my limited field of vision, most often it revolves around those oppressing opinions.
Posted by: ChinRingDingO at March 1, 2004 04:10 PM
Chin, Chin, Chin. Impressed me and humored me in less than two weeks. Oppression? Feeling put upon? Rainy day with too much time on my hands. Me and Styx.
pitcher. I ME MINE. Beatles. Pretty much sums it up. If life were only as simple as racecar spelled backwards. Man I've gone off the deepend here. Heres to the ratio of head to toe divided by navel to toe.
John "tied with Chin" Rensing
Posted by: John Rensing at March 1, 2004 05:09 PM
Who be this clown, wasting our collective time hating on Jeff? Has he nothing better to do? Perhaps he needs a hobby, a life, a purpose. Set some goals, start eating right. That sort of thing.
PS - Phi, as its Greek name implies, was first discovered (or is that invented?) by the Greeks and was also utilized in the constuction of the Egyptian pyramids. Wait, that's before Da Vinci, right? Perhaps he's not as smart as he claims...
Posted by: Fibonacci at March 5, 2004 10:26 AM
Yeah, I'm John Rensing numb nuts. It says so at the bottom of my posts. Apparently your reading comprehnsion skills leave something to be desired. I never said Da Vinci "invented" PHI.
Idiot. And doing a search on google of PHI does not make YOU smart. Idiot. And I am as smart as I claim, I have institutions of higher learning that will back me up. My brain eats people like you for breakfast. And I have too many hobbies, too many, I tell ya. That mountain bike is a black hole, on my wallet and my time. And my orchids! When was the last time any of you took care of a couple dozen orchids? The watering! The fertilizing! Oi! And my reptiles are going to eat me out of house and home. My Geochelone salcata wieghs in at 20 lbs. And is still growing! My Varanus albigularis is pushing six feet. Two rats a day everyday (weekends off) will do that to a monitor. Leaves so little time for reading. A book every week and a half or so isn't bad. Eeh, more like every three weeks.
Collective time? That is so fitting for this web site. The collective. Fuckin' lemmings.
John Rensing
Posted by: John Rensing at March 5, 2004 03:02 PM
And I'm NOT impressed with your Fibonacci reference.
John Rensing
Posted by: John Rensing at March 5, 2004 03:07 PM
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Posted by: full moon's comin' at March 5, 2004 08:47 PM
