The body may be at rest, but the mind wanders as it will.
Two songs have been getting heavy play on my cranial jukebox: “Katmandu,” by Bob Seger, and “Bodhisattva,” from Steely Dan.
The first, from 1975, ostensibly about salvation via relocation, is actually what Seger described as “an exasperated song” written near the end of a decade-long stretch “where I was going nowhere fast. … I still had some of that defeatist mentality and you can hear it in there.”
The second is a 1973 critique of cookie-cutter spiritualism and its related divestiture of worldly goods that co-writer Donald Fagen once summarized as: “Lure of East. Hubris of hippies. Quick fix.”
Thomas McGuane was scouting that territory even earlier, in his 1971 novel “The Bushwhacked Piano,” in which the peripatetic Nick Payne’s father tells his wayward son: “I just find the Rand McNally approach to self-discovery a little misguided. … My rather ordinary human response has been to resent having to go to work in the face of all that leisure.”
That these musical and literary ingredients are suddenly bubbling to the top of my consciousness, such as it is, may be a consequence of having just finished McGuane’s latest story collection, “A Wooded Shore,” in which a selection of the damned find themselves adrift in various fashions and locations, Dante’s Sea of Excrement being among the hot spots. “I’m a realist, you see,” says that particular voyager.
“Sure rings a bell these days,” as McGuane told The New York Times. On the mark as usual, Tommy me boyo.
Or perhaps it’s that I’m rocking a streak of vivid dreams about bicycling in outlandish circumstances, perhaps as a reaction to getting myself locked into a small selection of predictable 20-milers, your basic hamster-wheel loops, for no good reason that I can think of beyond sloth and convenience. An assist from Rand McNally is not required for this sort of tour de meh. Trying to break the chain I recently took two rarely ridden bikes on short outings, one of them involving a few miles of singletrack I hadn’t ridden since January. I dabbed frequently and shamelessly.
I suppose it could just be that fall is upon us, and with it our local elections and the fabled “fall back,” slated for Sunday, Nov. 2. Oh, good, an extra hour of nightmares.
When swimming the Sea of Excrement, I recommend the backstroke.
Mad Blog Media 
“When swimming the Sea of Excrement, I recommend the backstroke.” Golden. Permission to steal, por favor.
Heist away, me hearty! All property is theft, as you know.
Somebody else was thinking Steely Dan today. A couple of us were helping a friend shift a big hunk of flagstone into his yard, and when the other helper mentioned having lived in Guadalajara, our pal sang out, “Oh, no, Guadalajara won’t do,” from “My Old School,” on “Countdown to Ecstasy,” the same album as “Bodhisattva.” ’Tis a small musical world.
Hey Nineteen, first. Josie, second. Aja, first album pick and the first CD I ever bought.
I remember a video interview with Walt and Don. Fagen was asked what was up with his “Jerry Lewis” sounding vocals during one period. He said “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking or trying to do. But yeah, I did sound like Lewis doing his shtick with Deano”. I don’t think you can fully appreciate Steely until you’ve heard their stuff on a truly high caliber sound system. Masterful.
Joe Walsh could channel Lewis’s whine as well when he tried to go high. Well…he DID get high plenty enough but we’re talking vocals aren’t we?
I always liked Bob Seger too, all the way back to the Bob Seger System days. IIRC, I had his “Smokin’ O.P.’s” in vinyl. Still have “Beautiful Loser.” And I drove me a ton of miles listening to “Night Moves” and “Against the Wind” on the ol’ cassette player. That last was my personal soundtrack as I burned through six newspapers in four states over 14 years:
Loved Joe Walsh, too, from James Gang to the Eagles. Don Henley and Glenn Frey sure tamed that wild dog. Never could get the collar on Don Felder, though, so they kicked him out of the band.
You can bet your ass this one was playing in my head as I gave up on Denver and headed for Santa Fe, my seventh and last newspaper:
A tremendously talented prog rock band years ago was Camel. So few in the US knew of them but their body of work is amazing. The most exacting live sound I’ve ever heard in comparison to their studio recordings.Treat yourself to their reenactment of Moonmadness album at the Royal Albert Hall on YouTube
Man, some of their album covers sure look familiar, but I can’t say I’ve ever heard a Camel tune (though I occasionally walked a mile for one Back in the Day®). I’ll have to check ’em out. I was big on Moody Blues, King Crimson, and Pink Floyd before I veered off into the country-hippie/singer-songwriter genre.
Bahahaha.. Great mental floss Dog. Keep dishin’ ’em up.
Thanks, Dave. Just tagging overpasses on the Infobahn, is all.
Anyone interested in a 50 cm Cannondale CAAD5? Depending on how my back surgery yesterday turns out, I may have to ditch the bikes that require me to hunch over too much. So if anyone knows any real short folks out there, I may part with one of my beloved, although I hope not.
Dammit, I meant to ask when the knifework was scheduled. Late to the party as usual. Here’s hoping for a swift, full recovery, one that doesn’t involve parting with a beloved bike.
Are you mobile yet? It must be scary to be taking the new you for a test drive. It’s always fun to find out which/how many of the daily tasks are verboten once part of the basic structure has been compromised.
I’m confined to wandering around the house and yard, ranting and cursing, not picking up much of anything, or doing any bending. Which is tough these days, when we are all in the BOHICA position. So feeding the dog and cat are pretty much my limit for the next week or so until followup. I try to help with cooking and cleaning, as that only involves standing in the kitchen, barefoot but not pregnant. Plus, I’m still enjoying the wonderful world of painkillers, so driving is usually verboten.
The pinched femoral nerve was still pinched and while not getting worse, was not getting any better. Multiple doctors suggested getting the dremel tool in there and getting the bulged disk off of the nerve in the hope that it recovers, and hopefully the nerve will start to work full time again.
It was kinda weird. After 40 years of being pretty nimble on a bike, my left leg had kinda forgotten what it was supposed to do. I could sit and spin on the bike, but if I tried to stand up and sprint, the left leg said “what exactly am I supposed to be doing?” and I floundered around like a freshwater drum in the bottom of a fishing boat. I gradually was able to “think” my way into getting out of the saddle if I needed to, such as crossing a big intersection, but it was not natural at all.
I did set up the Stumpjumper with road hoops so I could ride full suspension on the road rather than pound the back. Also put as much handlebar rise on the Ti-gravel bike as I could by flipping the stem and maxing out the spacers, as I had already spec’ed the bike with a 30 mm head tube extension. Every once in a while, I do think ahead at potential complexity. And of course, put on the 38 mm rubber. But all bikes are now grounded for a while, as is the BMW.
Getting old ain’t for the faint of heart.
Khal: Best wishes for a speedy and full recovery, mi amigo!
Back surgery? I remember some issues, but I guess they were more serious than I thought.
Speaking of bummers, my new Martin 00-28 may have to go in for warranty work for a too high action. If it does, that does it for Martin for me.
Aw, shoot. Evil tidings all around this morning. And we hit the freezing point overnight. Yup, 32° when I tottered out of bed at 5. Still haven’t booted up the furnace, but I finally had to cave and pull on some socks, pants, and a long-sleeved shirt, plus an ancient, pilled-all-to-be-damn’ North Face vest. Woe, etc.
An evil aether is floating around for sure. Get better quick, Khal. You will heal quick you young whippersnapper!
The Martin might be over humidified which causes the top to swell up raising the strings. Solid wood guitars are very sensitive to humidity changes, some more than others. I should just buy another Rainsong, but they are hard to find since they went out of business in 2023. Carbon fiber guitars are not affected by humidity or temperature changes. Just the thing for a desert rat, except in bike frames.
Basil plants out back are trying to bolt every other day, so I gave them a haircut.
1 and 1/3 ounces of fresh basil leaves
1/4 of grated Parmesan
1/2 cup of cashews
1/2 cup of EVOO
2 garlic cloves sliced thin
Blend together Parmesan and pine nuts while drizzling in olive oil
Add garlic and basil and blend until smooth
Makes 10 tablespoons
Don’t worry about calories. It’s music for the tastebuds. Sauté some bell peppers, onions, celery and chicken in olive oil in your wok. Add one tablespoon of pesto sauce per serving. Dump in the drained, cooked pasta, penne or bow ties work well, add 1/3 cup pasta water, stir it up, pour the wine, serve with spinach, romaine and watermelon radish salad, and make your sweetie happy!
That sounds tasty. I love a good pesto. Giada De Laurentiis lists several recipes in her cookbook “Everyday Italian.” The variations include basil, mushroom, spinach, sun-dried tomato, and arugula, which I think I may make tonight, since I substituted a short mountain-bike ride for grocery shopping.