After inadvertently riding about 30 miles with some friends last night...Here's the story: you know how sometimes you're out riding and see someone you know? Well, I ended up seeing like four of them that I hadn't seen in a while, so why not? Got back late and went to bed after a quick bite for an early shift at FIndlay Market, which appears to me at least, to be struggling a bit. Everyone's numbers up and down the aisles have been sliding.
Today I ended up in a hilarious conversation regarding appropriate ways to meet people. I hate meeting people through other people, because then the entire framework of any new relationship is still the relationship you had with the first person. And I refuse to be set up with people, because it's awkward, and evidently I'm a little too intense for a set-up date situation. Friends have tried before to set me up with their friends, and it always just ends up with at least one person being mad or disappointed in me.
This all got me thinking about wether or not there are organic and authentic ways to meet and interact with people anymore, and then I realized last night talking to a friend that all of the places where those communities still exist still call cyclists "fags"...
But then again, no one really seems interesting enough to keep up with me in a relationship - which is why I haven't really given a shit. For the next 9 months in Cincinnati, I need to tie up a bunch of loose ends and have some very serious conversations with a few people.
I've got a backlog of reading for school to hit, but later in the week I'd like to get into urban planning a bit more, as well as some cycling events throwing down this weekend
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
October 26, 09
School is gearing up and the year is winding down. Everything is slowly sliding into place ( to avoid a Radiohead reference ), and hopes are high for 2010. In as much as I'm using this blog for the semi-public chronicling of my life in OTR and within the biking culture, I intend use it for personal archive purposes as well. IF I stay up to date, this should provide me with a decent body of work to draw from when creative companies want to see what I'm capable of.
Today, I got my first ever question about my blog - from a pseudo internet stalker (interesting side story about this later). She wanted to know why I'd named this "White Kid on a Bike" instead of resurrecting a prior blog that I'd already established and let go by the wayside. Partially I wanted to focus on different topics than any other blogging I'd done. Another part of the decision was that I felt a new blog could give me a better launching ground, something that I could prove instead of something I already had a bad history with. So, in naming the blog I settled upon the nickname I was given during my first few months in OTR.
Men in tall tees standing on street corners would yell, "yo, white kid on a/the bike" trying to sell me something different depending upon which street I was on. Weed on Vine, Heroin on Elm and Crack on Walnut. They all sound like name for something totally dysfunctional, but a lot of OTR is...so what can you do?
A lot of my interactions with these same people that used to yell at me are now deeper in ways since it's been made clear that I live here and am out in the community just as much as anyone else. This is in part thanks to a few select individuals that avoid the rain on my front stoop slinging dubs and the occasional dog food. I know who these people are, and I'm sure the police have to know as well...so I often wonder why nothing happens. If you're selling weed literally hidden in a gaping sidewalk crevice, I don't have a whole lot of sympathy if you get caught. Seems like an inevitability in ways.
Much of what goes on in OTR centers around the trafficking of drugs. I get offered them all the time and have learned the effective ways to say no while still being polite so that people don't think I'm a raging dick, or a cop (the latter being more important on the street). However, most of the people involved in the OTR drug culture don't live in the neighborhood and simply commute. Some from Avondale or Colerain or a variety of any other neighborhoods that aren't OTR or in the Clifton Area, since most college kids have been warned, and largely stay out of OTR.
As much as drugs permeate OTR life through the smell of blunts burning on street corners, there is another pervasive theme in the neighborhood, struggle. A lot of people here don't want to be here - I love it, but I admit the circumstances are much different - and so often you see people at the lowest of lows trying to get food or find a place to defecate. Things in everyday life that so many people don't even think about. And that in many ways has shaped my experiences in OTR more than someone trying to sell me drugs. As long as you stay a healthy distance away from the drug game, chances for survival are much higher. And having a little big of a head on your shoulders doesn't hurt either. Things totally acceptable in Clifton would get ugly in OTR and visa vera. It's funny to me how one single mile can make such a big difference in communities. In some instances it's 1/4 mile up a hill to a totally new world.
Today, I got my first ever question about my blog - from a pseudo internet stalker (interesting side story about this later). She wanted to know why I'd named this "White Kid on a Bike" instead of resurrecting a prior blog that I'd already established and let go by the wayside. Partially I wanted to focus on different topics than any other blogging I'd done. Another part of the decision was that I felt a new blog could give me a better launching ground, something that I could prove instead of something I already had a bad history with. So, in naming the blog I settled upon the nickname I was given during my first few months in OTR.
Men in tall tees standing on street corners would yell, "yo, white kid on a/the bike" trying to sell me something different depending upon which street I was on. Weed on Vine, Heroin on Elm and Crack on Walnut. They all sound like name for something totally dysfunctional, but a lot of OTR is...so what can you do?
A lot of my interactions with these same people that used to yell at me are now deeper in ways since it's been made clear that I live here and am out in the community just as much as anyone else. This is in part thanks to a few select individuals that avoid the rain on my front stoop slinging dubs and the occasional dog food. I know who these people are, and I'm sure the police have to know as well...so I often wonder why nothing happens. If you're selling weed literally hidden in a gaping sidewalk crevice, I don't have a whole lot of sympathy if you get caught. Seems like an inevitability in ways.
Much of what goes on in OTR centers around the trafficking of drugs. I get offered them all the time and have learned the effective ways to say no while still being polite so that people don't think I'm a raging dick, or a cop (the latter being more important on the street). However, most of the people involved in the OTR drug culture don't live in the neighborhood and simply commute. Some from Avondale or Colerain or a variety of any other neighborhoods that aren't OTR or in the Clifton Area, since most college kids have been warned, and largely stay out of OTR.
As much as drugs permeate OTR life through the smell of blunts burning on street corners, there is another pervasive theme in the neighborhood, struggle. A lot of people here don't want to be here - I love it, but I admit the circumstances are much different - and so often you see people at the lowest of lows trying to get food or find a place to defecate. Things in everyday life that so many people don't even think about. And that in many ways has shaped my experiences in OTR more than someone trying to sell me drugs. As long as you stay a healthy distance away from the drug game, chances for survival are much higher. And having a little big of a head on your shoulders doesn't hurt either. Things totally acceptable in Clifton would get ugly in OTR and visa vera. It's funny to me how one single mile can make such a big difference in communities. In some instances it's 1/4 mile up a hill to a totally new world.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
my favorite speech
In lieu of writing some big to-do today, since I have tons of stuff due for school...I thought I'd leave you with the text from what I consider to be one of the best American speeches. It's former governor Mario Cuomo's 1984 speech to the Democratic Nat'l Convention. I think it's lovely.
Ten days ago, President Reagan admitted that although some people in this country seemed to be doing well nowadays, others were unhappy, and even worried, about themselves, their families and their futures.
The President said he didn't understand that fear. He said, "Why, this country is a shining city on a hill."
A shining city is perhaps all the President sees from the portico of the White House and the verandah of his ranch, where everyone seems to be doing well.
But there's another part of the city, the part where some people can't pay their mortgages and most young people can't afford one, where students can't afford the education they need and middle-class parents watch the dreams they hold for their children evaporate.
In this part of the city there are more poor than ever, more families in trouble. More and more people who need help but can't find it.
There are ghettos where thousands of young people, without an education or a job, give their lives away to drug dealers every day.
There is despair, Mr. President, in faces you never see, in the places you never visit in your shining city.
Maybe if you visited more places, Mr. President, you'd understand.
Maybe if you went to Appalachia where some people still live in sheds and to Lackawanna where thousands of unemployed steel workers wonder why we subsidized foreign steel while we surrender their dignity to unemployment and to welfare checks; maybe if you stepped into a shelter in Chicago and talked with some of the homeless there; maybe, Mr. President, if you asked a woman who'd been denied the help she needs to feed her children because you say we need the money to give a tax break to a millionaire or to build a missile we can't even afford to use — maybe then you'd understand.
Maybe, Mr. President.
But I'm afraid not. . . .
The difference between Democrats and Republicans has always been measured in courage and confidence. The Republicans believe the wagon train will not make it to the frontier unless some of our old, some of our young, and some of our weak are left behind by the side of the trail.
We Democrats believe that we can make it all the way with the whole family intact.
The President has asked us to judge him on whether or not he's fulfilled the promises he made four years ago. I accept that. Just consider what he said and what he's done.
Inflation is down since 1980 . . . reduced the old-fashioned way, with a recession, the worst since 1932. More than 55,000 bankruptcies. Two years of massive unemployment. Two hundred thousand farmers and ranchers forced off the land. More homeless than at any time since the Great Depression. More hungry, more poor, and a nearly $200 billion deficit . . . a mortgage on our children's futures that can only be paid in pain and that could eventually bring this nation to its knees. . . .
Where would another four years take us? How much larger will the deficit be? How high will we pile the missiles? Will we make meaner the spirit of our people?
We Democrats still have a dream. We still believe in this nation's future.
It's a story I didn't read in a book, or learn in a classroom. I saw it, and lived it. Like many of you.
I watched a small man with thick calluses on both hands work 15 and 16 hours a day. I saw him once literally bleed from the bottoms of his feet, a man who came here uneducated, alone, unable to speak the language, who taught me all I needed to know about faith and hard work by the simple eloquence of his example. I learned about our kind of democracy from my father. I learned about our obligation to each other from him and from my mother. They asked only for a chance to work and to make the world better for their children and to be protected in those moments when they would not be able to protect themselves. This nation and its government did that for them.
And that they were able to build a family and live in dignity and see one of their children go from behind their little grocery store to occupy the highest seat in the greatest state of the greatest nation in the only world we know, is an ineffably beautiful tribute to the democratic process. . . .
I ask you, ladies and gentlemen, brothers and sisters — for the good of all of us, for the love of this great nation, for the family of America, for the love of God. Please make this nation remember how futures are built.
Ten days ago, President Reagan admitted that although some people in this country seemed to be doing well nowadays, others were unhappy, and even worried, about themselves, their families and their futures.
The President said he didn't understand that fear. He said, "Why, this country is a shining city on a hill."
A shining city is perhaps all the President sees from the portico of the White House and the verandah of his ranch, where everyone seems to be doing well.
But there's another part of the city, the part where some people can't pay their mortgages and most young people can't afford one, where students can't afford the education they need and middle-class parents watch the dreams they hold for their children evaporate.
In this part of the city there are more poor than ever, more families in trouble. More and more people who need help but can't find it.
There are ghettos where thousands of young people, without an education or a job, give their lives away to drug dealers every day.
There is despair, Mr. President, in faces you never see, in the places you never visit in your shining city.
Maybe if you visited more places, Mr. President, you'd understand.
Maybe if you went to Appalachia where some people still live in sheds and to Lackawanna where thousands of unemployed steel workers wonder why we subsidized foreign steel while we surrender their dignity to unemployment and to welfare checks; maybe if you stepped into a shelter in Chicago and talked with some of the homeless there; maybe, Mr. President, if you asked a woman who'd been denied the help she needs to feed her children because you say we need the money to give a tax break to a millionaire or to build a missile we can't even afford to use — maybe then you'd understand.
Maybe, Mr. President.
But I'm afraid not. . . .
The difference between Democrats and Republicans has always been measured in courage and confidence. The Republicans believe the wagon train will not make it to the frontier unless some of our old, some of our young, and some of our weak are left behind by the side of the trail.
We Democrats believe that we can make it all the way with the whole family intact.
The President has asked us to judge him on whether or not he's fulfilled the promises he made four years ago. I accept that. Just consider what he said and what he's done.
Inflation is down since 1980 . . . reduced the old-fashioned way, with a recession, the worst since 1932. More than 55,000 bankruptcies. Two years of massive unemployment. Two hundred thousand farmers and ranchers forced off the land. More homeless than at any time since the Great Depression. More hungry, more poor, and a nearly $200 billion deficit . . . a mortgage on our children's futures that can only be paid in pain and that could eventually bring this nation to its knees. . . .
Where would another four years take us? How much larger will the deficit be? How high will we pile the missiles? Will we make meaner the spirit of our people?
We Democrats still have a dream. We still believe in this nation's future.
It's a story I didn't read in a book, or learn in a classroom. I saw it, and lived it. Like many of you.
I watched a small man with thick calluses on both hands work 15 and 16 hours a day. I saw him once literally bleed from the bottoms of his feet, a man who came here uneducated, alone, unable to speak the language, who taught me all I needed to know about faith and hard work by the simple eloquence of his example. I learned about our kind of democracy from my father. I learned about our obligation to each other from him and from my mother. They asked only for a chance to work and to make the world better for their children and to be protected in those moments when they would not be able to protect themselves. This nation and its government did that for them.
And that they were able to build a family and live in dignity and see one of their children go from behind their little grocery store to occupy the highest seat in the greatest state of the greatest nation in the only world we know, is an ineffably beautiful tribute to the democratic process. . . .
I ask you, ladies and gentlemen, brothers and sisters — for the good of all of us, for the love of this great nation, for the family of America, for the love of God. Please make this nation remember how futures are built.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
FALL 09 playlist. In no particular order
White Winter Hymnal - Fleet Foxes
Bliss - muse
Schooled In The Trade - People Under The Stairs
A Threnody for the Victims of November 2nd - The Ascent of Everest
Mike Mills - Air
Olsen Olsen - Sigur Rós
I Don't Believe You - The Magnetic Fields
If I Fall - Aqualung
Family Tree - TV on the Radio
All Along The Watchtower - Bob Dylan
Neighborhood #4 (7 Kettles - Arcade Fire
King's Crossing - Elliot Smith
The Stars Are Projectors - Modest Mouse
Interstate 8 - Modest Mouse
Neighborhood #2 (Laika)- Arcade Fire
Roads Must Roll - Boom Bip
National Disgrace - Atmosphere
Run Run Run - Phoenix
Skttrbrain (Four Tet Remix) - Radiohead
Hand on Your Heart - José González
The Way Young Lovers Do - Van Morrison
The Nasty - Amon Tobin
Kid A - Radiohead
Dimensions And Verticals- Say Hi To Your Mom
Skip Divided - Thom Yorke
You Got Me All Wrong - Dios Malos
I Am Trying To Break Your Heart - Wilco
The Eraser - Thom Yorke
Kyrie - Popol Vuh Hosianna
The Four Corners - Halloween, Alaska
/=/- Andrew Bird
A Minute's Warning - Johnnytwentythree
Bullet Proof...I Wish I Was - Radiohead
I Will - Radiohead
Baby, we'll be fine - The national
Bliss - muse
Schooled In The Trade - People Under The Stairs
A Threnody for the Victims of November 2nd - The Ascent of Everest
Mike Mills - Air
Olsen Olsen - Sigur Rós
I Don't Believe You - The Magnetic Fields
If I Fall - Aqualung
Family Tree - TV on the Radio
All Along The Watchtower - Bob Dylan
Neighborhood #4 (7 Kettles - Arcade Fire
King's Crossing - Elliot Smith
The Stars Are Projectors - Modest Mouse
Interstate 8 - Modest Mouse
Neighborhood #2 (Laika)- Arcade Fire
Roads Must Roll - Boom Bip
National Disgrace - Atmosphere
Run Run Run - Phoenix
Skttrbrain (Four Tet Remix) - Radiohead
Hand on Your Heart - José González
The Way Young Lovers Do - Van Morrison
The Nasty - Amon Tobin
Kid A - Radiohead
Dimensions And Verticals- Say Hi To Your Mom
Skip Divided - Thom Yorke
You Got Me All Wrong - Dios Malos
I Am Trying To Break Your Heart - Wilco
The Eraser - Thom Yorke
Kyrie - Popol Vuh Hosianna
The Four Corners - Halloween, Alaska
/=/- Andrew Bird
A Minute's Warning - Johnnytwentythree
Bullet Proof...I Wish I Was - Radiohead
I Will - Radiohead
Baby, we'll be fine - The national
Beliefs
this is a redux of a much longer work I did earlier this year. I hope to sprinkle in some of my older writings and poetry over time to spice things up.
in a vague sense...
we should do things
and make an effort to experience new things
or take a different road home until you know your city
we should think about things
and make an effort to solve a problem
or take things into our own hands and actually do something
we should have fun
and make new friends in our travels
or make friends in our communities. the people we walk by every day with our heads down.
we should shake things up a little bit
and occasionally defend our decision to do so
or sit by and watch our sky high hopes crash
we should start with ourselves and move outward
and try to be the change we see in the world
or watch it all uncurl?
in a vague sense...
we should do things
and make an effort to experience new things
or take a different road home until you know your city
we should think about things
and make an effort to solve a problem
or take things into our own hands and actually do something
we should have fun
and make new friends in our travels
or make friends in our communities. the people we walk by every day with our heads down.
we should shake things up a little bit
and occasionally defend our decision to do so
or sit by and watch our sky high hopes crash
we should start with ourselves and move outward
and try to be the change we see in the world
or watch it all uncurl?
IN-tro
If you need an introduction to me, then I'm doing something good with this whole blogging game. Everyone else has one, and since I'm supposedly a journalist, it only seemed inevitable.
This blog stems from a series of discussions and interactions with a variety of people and places over the past few years. Currently I live in one of the most amazing neighborhoods in the world. It's a collision of culture, gentrification and colorful people. I work at the oldest continually operated public market in the country which is only a few blocks away from my apartment. Speaking of apartments, you'll soon get some insight on what goes on at mine, a 4000sq. ft. warehouse conversion on Vine St.
I like music, bikes, buildings, people, nature and adventures. The next post will be my fall 2009 jam list. It's mellow enough for cool weather, but far from boring.
This blog stems from a series of discussions and interactions with a variety of people and places over the past few years. Currently I live in one of the most amazing neighborhoods in the world. It's a collision of culture, gentrification and colorful people. I work at the oldest continually operated public market in the country which is only a few blocks away from my apartment. Speaking of apartments, you'll soon get some insight on what goes on at mine, a 4000sq. ft. warehouse conversion on Vine St.
I like music, bikes, buildings, people, nature and adventures. The next post will be my fall 2009 jam list. It's mellow enough for cool weather, but far from boring.
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