KeithWikle.com

James Joyce
White, Irish and dead. Famous for Ulysses, a great thematic work of one single day in Dublin through the eyes of a Jewish Ad Man and his alter ego Stephen Dedalus, there are some juicy bits sprinkled throughout that got him in trouble. His book of short stories, Dubliners usually gets read by more college students. I like it all, it’s basically a great ride.

I think William Gibson beat me to the punch by posting this on his blog before me. I had to post this though, as I think my ideal writing machine cannot be celebrated enough. Steve Jobs eat your heart out, I want one of these beauties. It is an actual working laptop! This Japanese Steampunk Typerwriter kicks ass! The mouse is a telegraph button. (see below.

I watched Born into this last night. It is a documentary about the late poet Henry Charles Bukowski Jr.

I sometimes forget how much I really loved this guy. There are times I am sure I would have hated to have him as a friend. But as a poet, what he stood for, what he endured, his courage, and his art, he is the shining example of a poet.

This poem below was not one I had in my collection. He read the poem below during the film and it really struck me. I remember as a young man that this is exactly how I felt about myself and my place in the world.

I think I have gained some perspective and think more benevolently of my fellow man for the most part, but you have to give it to Charles Bukowski for being able to put this to paper. And this to me speaks to an America where people only care about themselves. Everything is down to the bottom line. All that matters is wealth, cars, how big your house is, how big your piece of the pie is. We don’t care about the little guy. We don’t care about things that enhance life. We only care about things that sustain life.

There will always be a need for folks who are able to enhance the meaning of life rather than just sustain it. You have to have something to make the ride worth it. Poetry enhances life, gives meaning to the little things, and clarifies the big things with the one thing that separates us from the baboons with the coconut bikini’s… poetry. Bukowski was one of the best.

The Genius Of The Crowd

there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day

and the best at murder are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace

those who preach god, need god
those who preach peace do not have peace
those who preach peace do not have love

beware the preachers
beware the knowers
beware those who are always reading books
beware those who either detest poverty
or are proud of it
beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average

but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to kill you
to kill anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect

like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock

their finest art

I saw the wind was dropping off. After my beating earlier in the week, my pride was fanny smacked, and wanted another shot at the title. So I saddled back up to head out. I unloaded at South Haven south beach again. The wind was further out of the northwest this time. The waves were peaking at about 7-8 feet on the big ones, the average was more in the five foot range. I stowed my gloves, (no pogies yet). I broke all the way out to past the pier with relative ease. 15-20 knot winds being well within my realm of strength. I turned and started watching for a wave to catch. I was immediately taken over by a big dumper that I hadn’t been looking for. I got my paddle to the surface and swept, felt my back clear the afterdeck of the boogie and I popped right up. But I had that pit of dread in my stomach that hadn’t been there before. It took a few more clean rides down large spillers to start to feel like myself again. By the end I seemed looser and ready to roll.

Confidence is definitely a two edged weapon that cuts evenly against either party. I think confidence is essential in order to surf at all. If you don’t believe you can roll in 8-10 foot surf you will swim every time. If you believe you can do it, you will more than likely come up every time until you are so exhausted you either go in, or you have a swim. Unfortunately you may have a day where your confidence for lack of a better term hands your arse to you.

I think having one of those days within some realm of safety is a good thing. For my part I see way too many complaisant paddlers who do not push themselves at all. The reverse of that particular medal may be that they live long, safe, but not particularly interesting lives. I always remind myself when I beat myself up about missing a roll, that I was out that day, no one else would go; and mainly because no one else wants to challenge themselves. For whatever modicum of daring and skill I possess, it is from continually trying to take on larger and larger challenges. I may have found that balance where I can now say that I know what the outerlimit is. 14-17 foot waves and 35 knot winds on Lake Michigan is pretty out there, and I feel no shame in having said I met my match. To those that would laiugh at my sudden turn in fortune, I say he who dares wins.

I cycled in to work yesterday through driving snow and building wind. My bike pushed me about 2 feet side ways with one solid gust on a downhil portion of the ride to downtown Kalamazoo. The forecast predicted a wersterly 30 knot gale force wind that would die over the course of the day into evening. After work I drove to the beach with the sea kayak and the surf boat on the Volvo. The sea kayak kept trying to take flight off the car from the gusts heading straight under the nose.

I arrived on the beach with the sand blasting the side of the car. I put on my drysuit with my new neck gasket, many thanks to: Amigo Drysuit Repair . I attached my fins to the boogie with numb fingers. Walking down into the wind was a challenge to get to the water, I felt my body fighting the urge to leave the ground like a kite.

I found a spot on the beach to launch and managed to get the skirt on with little trouble even while wearing gloves. More on gloves later.

I paddled like mad to reach the outer break as the sun was setting fast. Every muscle ached as I dug like mad to break out. The wind had not died below 30 knots. I braced a few times and felt the paddle go squidgy in my grip, just like it did last year when I tried surfing in the dark on the day of the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald. I didn’t like that feeling at all, as this meant I would have to trust that my indexing on the paddle was correct if I had to roll. I managed to get out past two or three sets, but was catapulted nose over tail by the fourth. I swept the paddle out calmly and tried to roll. The paddle sliced and I came up three-quarters and went back into the icy water. A wave caught me while I was upside down, so I waited until I felt calm at the surface. Once there was calm I tried again. The blade sliced again and I did not come up, I did manage to get a breath. I set up for a third time with the hail mary, the extended pawlata grip, a wave caught and pushed me again, and I lost my grip on the paddle. However I managed to get another breath. I thought, you know what, I bet I could handroll this thing up. I swept my body out to the surface, and pulled out that “angry thoughts hipsnap” ala Alex Pak, and I slapped like a beaver with both hands. I came up on my first try. Unfortunately, my paddle was loose in the water. Another set came in and nuked me over hard. Life was suddenly a lot more complicated. I set up again, and tried to roll up, no luck. I realized that this was going to be my first swim in 3 years.
No one could say I didn’t try everything I could think of, or that I was weak, I just had a FUBAR situation. I sighed, (sort of anyway while underwater). I yanked the skirt and was out. A drysuit and a lifejacket are both excellent things I realized. I found my paddle pretty quickly and started trying to swim for shore. A steady current of rip tide was heading in my exact direction straight out from shore. It felt like it was at least 4 knots, but I was no judge at the time. My boat was 30-40 yards ahead of me and still floating. This was my first wet exit out of the boogie so I was impressed that it was still floating, did I mention that I had no float bags in it?... I swam side ways and found a wave to push me in. I caught up to my boat and dragged it up to shore.

Three take-aways.

1. 30 Knots of wind is always stronger than me.
2. Gloves will screw up my indexing on my surf paddle.

1. Being able to handroll up my surfboat in conditions is sexy, but useless.

   I looked out, it was dark, I was alone, and I had swum. Hmmm, that handroll was a lot of use wasn’t it? I smell a Darwin award coming.

   No Tag

Mobley and I went out for a spin at Fort Custer again. We did some of the easier loops. I managed to stay in the saddle a lot more, but fell twice. One time hitting a stump at full speed with my front tire. I was pumping hard while climbing and didn’t pick my line up the hill very well. I thought I was going to “taco” my wheel. But managed to climb back on and run the bike to the top. Great fun, and not nearly as scary as last time. I’ve been watching youtube cyclocross videos. None of the race courses look as technical as the trails I’ve been riding. I hope this is the case for my race.

I am officially nominating myself for tree kissing duty. I was out hitting the trails again on my cyclocross bike.

Rob Chamberlain, Jason Roon and I are tentatively discussing the Oct 22, or the Nov 2nd cross race up in GR.

With that in mind I pedalled out to Kleinstock to poach their minitrail system. I got my body working hard in the mud, trying dismounts and remounts at speed. Good fun. I even bunnyhopped a tree root or two.

This will be my first bike race. I am pretty excited, but as I posted earlier I am out of my element on land. And all falls hurt man!