Tag Archive: musings


You win and you lose.

Truth of every fraction of time spent on this Earth.

A misty morning is the promise for a radiant sunny afternoon, you just need to climb where the rain doesn’t drop.

Sometimes this never comes to fruition for you don’t want to.

So comfortable in your cashmere coat and the constant sound of rain, so perfectly happy with your thoughts made in heavy lead.

You search light and warmth when you’re unhappy, then you’ll move.

Just don’t stop yourself at the first ray, go straight for the supernova and be blinded.

You talk nosense. You are the noise.

I talk of love lost.

1 § 2 § 3 § 4 § 5 § 6 § 7 § 8

I like to travel roads forgotten.

Gravel crunching and savage greenery deep.

There is lack of noise beneath leaves.

The road winds upon the hill like a coiled dormant snake under no sun.

Thoughts become louder every step of the way, muddy footprints in the labyrinth.

Water trickles, warm fog sticks on your coat.

Sometimes, while I walk a new street I stop and watch.

I try and imagine how would be to live there opposed to the city, the best apartment money could give.

I choose silence and difficulty.

My answer sure lacks logic to you.

1 § 2 § 3 § 4 § 5 § 6 § 7

6/? Liquid gold

I like the waters far below.

Cold, dark baritone enthralling.

Home of complex subjects that need to be thought extensively in contralto phrasing and uttered in sparse murmured word.

I can stand higher cords but just so.

Water trickling down, plinking.

Rain, laughter of the Gods, muffling the sounds of this city.

Good will of old drowning us in sanctity.

The current in the river diluting pains forgotten.

Washing away layer upon layer until the rock at the bottom glints.

Copper veins in the grey.

Why do you smile?

As this place wastes away we shall leave to return.

1 § 2 § 3 § 4 § 5 § 6

This is no medical condition.

Sometimes is better to have a conversation inside your brain then hear a shit ton of today’s music.

Noise…that’s screeching noise, darling.

Fairly simple to do, actually.

Shut all of your devices, not standy, SHUT THEM OFF.

Don’t worry you can live without them…your smartphone doesn’t make your heart beat nor your mouth eat.

Paper, pen, brain.

They won’t bite you, try to think with your mind.

Sometimes the harshest of sounds and sensations are inside yourself.

You won’t comprehend them at first, it’ll be just a matter of time.

And you’ll discover water depths.

Treacherous, never ending.

Mother’s womb.

1 § 2 § 3 § 4 § 5

That’s disgusting.

Rolling my eyes, putting one earphone on.

I tell you what’s disgusting: the level of noise in this goddamn city!

Noise…what noise?

I watch him for a full split second like he sprouted a second head.

Then I shake mine and start to walk past blaring clacsons, people shouting on their smartphones held far from them, dogs barking and messiahs preaching the end of something.

My notepad still totally pristine…proof of continuous interruptions.

The place where I come from is the total opposite of this hellhole.

People here fear silence or essential harmony.

They fear everything different than noise.

Sound of life gone to waste makes you deaf.

Mercifully coddling you into one direction and this one only.

I hate this city.

You couldn’t hear a coin drop in water.

Or a person scream.

1 § 2 § 3 § 4

Poised with a dilemma there are many roads you can take.

Steel cages and wings, yours to decide and mine to debate.

Still too much noise in my ears, unbearable city.

Wonderful in its diversity, unfeeling but supreme.

Time in double speed, piano strings waterfall.

Exquisite food that I can’t tuck into.

No one could eat with someone watching, waiting to strike.

The ice-blue in those eyes stepping onto my bones, grinding my teeth.

Done with this, chair creaks backwards.

Question time…shoot.

He looks surprised, taken back from a dirty dream.

Smile on my lips, napkin on my legs, no doubt it was dirty.

Won’t you eat?

A look, that’s all I need to shut him up.

I have a regret in front of me.

The perfect steak on my plate.

Bloody and rare.

Going cold.

1 § 2 § 3

2/? Mind gap

City of steel and glass.

Madhouse.

No way I will sleep.

It wasn’t fate, no.

It was human error.

Mismatched rooms…it looked too good to be true.

Still too tired, barely awake, perfectly able to comprehend.

A new key and already the thought of sleep.

Pair of ice-blue eyes, unintelligible.

I would like to buy you dinner.

Do I want to? Would I like it? How the heck could I know?

The depths I can’t see, things I don’t know.

Words out of my mouth with no filter. Now it’s too late.

He doesn’t smile, not with his eyes. Tomorrow then. I insist.

Thought process of a split second that feels like a whole bloody month of accusations.

Yes.

1 § 2

1/? Water

Another big town.

Same set of eyes, journey made of thoughts.

Streetlights on, shops never closed.

Avenues and bridges over water singing in the rain.

A pristine notepad in my Eastpak, stages in the back of my mind.

Earphones thunder loud in my ears.

For this city is noise and life, chaos unordered.

No void corner to hide, no place to park.

High palaces in the cloudy sky.

And the rain…oh the rain.

Low is my voice underwater for I’m sure

I’ll see you still with no light.

Laugh God.

1 § 2

Papercut

Words inside my veins.

Sliding in crimson, no more forcing their way out.

Still I dream while blood clots on the paper.

A new story dries up on the easel of the lost.

I salute you.

World dead before being born.

4545

I am living for the sunny days.
The rainy ones.
The hours I can escape.
The moments I know I closed a deal.
The tiny pleasures I find in the weirdest places.

I live in every breath in and out of my lungs while I ride.
I live for the lost days, the warmth of afternoons in the shade.
I live for the humid stillness of summer nights.

I run on my own two feet.
I run on my MTB down the hill at full speed.
I run on the chevrolet darling.
As the clock chimes the hour.

I am tired, I admit.
Life now is still sweeter than honey.
And my skin is turning golden under the sun.
As time goes and doesn’t come back.
As memories start to fade and music remains.
Screaming voices are getting dim in the ride.
Or maybe I’m just older.
And I still dream.

Okay, post molto neofita, molto tecnico e molto borioso su MTB retrò e ‘vecchie’. Bear with me.

Ora tutto questo con una premessa:
Di norma faccio giri bisettimanali (se fortunata) di 50-60 km (2, massimo 3 ore).
Se riesco a mantenere questo livello di allenamento arrivo a fine stagione (estate) capace di farne dai 75 agli 80 km senza fatica (dalle 3 alle 3,30 ore, dipende da che percorso scelgo).
In materia di velocità oraria costante vario in tiro duro dai 20/25 ai 30 km/h senza decelerazione di fine stagione.
La mia bici è sicuramente sopra ai 10kg.
Il mio peso corporeo varia dai 55kg ai 50kg, compreso lo sviluppo muscolare.
Un anno (quello della fine stagione con percorsi da 75/80km) sono arrivata addirittura a 49kg, praticamente ero pelle, ossa e prosciutti al posto delle gambe.

In teoria sono senza bici da 10 giorni, in pratica no.

Il mio ‘cancello’ preferito è da rifare totalmente davanti, dietro, sopra e sotto.
Il telaio era dei primi anni ’90 robusto come un ‘cancello’ appunto ma pesante per gli standard attuali e non sembra essersi fatto nulla a parte qualche graffio in più.
Purtroppo le leve, i fili del freno, e cerchione in alluminio da 26′ sono in stato pietoso. Il manubrio tubolare di ferro si è piegato visibilmente.

Il cambio uno shimano SIS tricorona con cassetta filetto a 6 velocità e catena grande sono riuscita a salvarlo ma era già da qualche anno che avevo intenzione di sostituirlo quindi…

Configurazione ora.
Tricorona 28-38-48T
Cassetta posteriore 14-28T

Se parliamo di sviluppo metrico la mia MTB si poteva già considerare una ‘ibrida’ perché sul piano in rapporto duro (48/14) riuscivo a fare 7,14 m abbondanti ad ogni giro del pedale e senza particolare fatica anche in leggera salita.
Sul rapporto agile (28/28)arrivavo a 2,02 m e di norma lo usavo solo con inclinazioni peggio che proibitive.

Ora…il mio desiderio nascosto è aumentare lo sviluppo metrico del rapporto duro.
Non sono particolarmente amante delle corone giganti quindi la mia idea era mantenere la vecchia impostazione e modificare il dietro (che in termini di sviluppo metrico conta di più di cosa si usa davanti) ma le mie buone speranze sono andate a P****.
Il mercato si è spostato sulle bicorone o monocorone con cambi posteriori a cassetta da 9/10/11/12 velocità.
Se volessi un rapporto 12/32 dietro sarei obbligata a cambiare la ruota posteriore per intero (l’unica che non si è fatta troppo male) oltre al resto.

L’unica opzione disponibile per ora è un cambio a filetto Sunrace vecchia scuola offertomi da un tizio, capace di portarmi a 7 velocità con 13/28 sul vecchio cerchio.
Sviluppo metrico duro 7,70 m (un buon mezzo metro!)

Ma col cambio del rapporto dietro sono obbligata anche a cambiare la catena da grande a sottile e qui il grande dubbio: la catena sottile sulla guarnitura 48/38/28 funziona?! Se sì come? Bene o male?
È meglio cambiare anche le corone?
Ed il deragliatore posteriore??
I comandi del cambio? (Il SIS montava anche cassette a 8v…mah?)

Dubbi amletici da non dormire la notte, giuro.

Intanto domani vado a recuperare un ‘cancello’ nuovo regalato e rimasto a prendere la polvere degli ultimi cinque anni.
L’ho già cavalcato e ho solo una cosa da dire: Lo odio ma sempre meglio che girarsi i pollici.
Per cronaca ha tre corone con ruote da 26 anche questo ma di massima 42t e la cassetta dietro 14/28, come il mio.
Sviluppo metrico duro 6,25 m
Ciò significa pedalate su pedalate ed ancora pedalate…per fare molta meno distanza.
In più ha una sella che dopo mezz’ora le chiappe doloranti sono il centro e culmine dei tuoi pensieri.

Oh…sarò di nuovo sulla strada presto…
Più lenta e con le emorroidi…
Ma sulla strada! 🚴🏻‍♀️💪🏻😎

Sometimes the past labeled ‘Hate’ comes back.
It’s like pushing the trigger of a gun.
The bullet is released and the sound of the shot just cracks in the still air.

For me it can only come back with songs, now.
It’s a good thing ‘cause I control pretty much anything I hear these days for technology is wonder.
Today I wasn’t that lucky and I hate when it happens.

For it’s just songs, not even that good for my tastes, never really liked but still kept in an old music archive.
It was barely 40 minutes – now agony – you said you liked.
Pop, hardly meaning anything profound.

Today it just went straight to my head,
with all those months thinking anything but rationally.
All those years mourning practically nothing.
Me, my cups and the fucking hope.
The sinister glint in my eyes under a canopy of trees long forgotten.
I truly hated for I wasn’t myself.
Search, find and destroy.

———————————-

I thank daily every deity for I am still here on this Earth.
For I find I’m not bitter if my triggers stay unreleased.
For if I have known ‘hate’ I did bid it goodbye a long time ago.
I never searched for you, never I will.
I don’t care anymore and in a way it amuses me how needs and feelings can change.
Life.
Sometimes I feel a little blue, I write/work all night (Yes, I write, I still do that!), Consume my poor Chevrolet darling, find the time to nurture and watch my orchids flourish.
Bright colours, fluorescent skies, rolling hills in pale green, the ticking of my bike going down at full speed.
The sounds of morning, sun on my windshield.
It feels like change.
I do have changed in ways I doubt you would understand.
For I love, I share and I try to help.
The past made me what I am.
And it won’t return.

Coexisting in life is never easy.

We humans have so many ways of thinking and seeing things and taking critics.

Sometimes you just try honestly to help and all you receive is scorn for ‘YOU are not sharing MY views, admit it!’

Of course I see what you see, but I also see what I see, and possibly have an opinion of what the rest could see…truthful or polluted it may be.

There are days I truly resent helping for I know what I will gain.

Other days I help and stay silent and regret.

Truth and pain walk on the same cobble street often.

Family is family, I guess.

30/30

He had simply left, his power gone, his money not.

Went for far away refuges, man amongst men speaking many tongues.

Fought  for wavering rightful causes, cried for solid dreams made of clay.

Bittersweet the day he returned where no-one remembered the slick handsome beast now made man and scarred by truths.

Years had left lines on his noble profile and wear on his clothes, specks of early silver in his hair.

Heart beating a stoic rhythm under tanned skin, eyes placid and mindful.

Steps surer in a long ago city he still remembered but no more owned or wanted.

The old concrete, the harsh light reflecting in the windows high above.

Summer was in full swing as the roses in the park bloomed and died in the span of a few hours.

Sickly sweet wisteria hanging limply from balconies, children running amok in the muddy shore by the lake.

Every path freshly covered in grey gravel.

He found that afternoon to be a shade of lie he could stand, softly blurring the edges of his vision; a picturesque world long gone.

Grass bending gently to the breeze, white jasmine flowers weaved in crowns over young girls hair.

The pale green of her dress was the first thing he saw.

Tiny bare feet peeked through the hem and hid in the grass as the leaves overhead moved.

Peaceful sleep softened her features, the dark silk of her hair cushioned her head, lavender wafting gently to his nose.

Was she part of that sunny lie?

Cold as winter, so long gone.

There he sat, patience now his to nurture.

The sun slowly descending, bright amber green rays on her face.

A hand in his lap while she yawned and stretched like a cat.

Eyes on him, sharp and searching, half-relief half-suspicion in the steel gray.

You never told me your name, Nemesis.

Her smile true, her voice soft.

You never asked yet you find me, Narcissus.

Fin

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