Spin cycle

I’m sitting in my Dazbog office, where I do all my best thinking, tapping along on my Powerbook. It’s especially fun to hang out in coffee shops when you have a cool Mac.

My new media/social networking/plan for world domination journey continues to carry me along. I’m three years behind the curve and trying to catch up in three weeks. I’m devouring everything I can find. And my head is spinning.

The (information) omnivore’s dilemma: it’s hard to stop exploring and start putting things together. The overwhelm can easily go from exhilarating to discouraging.

Looking forward to a different kind of spinning this weekend; Carol and I are biking up to Estes Park Saturday, via Glen Haven (yes, the dreaded switchbacks). We’ll come back Sunday. We’ve got a room in EP, with a jacuzzi (thank god). I’m looking forward to it; it will be an adventure. In pain. But Ride the Rockies is looming ever larger, and even though yesterday I turned 700 miles in my training (since March), that 93-mile day from Montrose to Crested Butte is visiting me in my dreams. 

Pandora

This is so freakin’ cool! I just read about this on a blog about digital technologies in museums. It’s called “Pandora Radio,” part of the Music Genome Project. Just give them a song or an artist as a starting point (“seed”), and it will stream your own personal radio station to you, based on that starting point — music style, genre, instrumentation, etc. You can create your own mixes and send them to friends. You can rate each selection Pandora comes up with — much like Netflix — to help it refine its choices. I’ve heard two songs so far that I know, and two that I don’t. You can listen at home, on your mobile; hook into your Facebook account; watch videos about music.

Besides being very cool and fun, the interesting thing about Pandora is that it uses a filtering system built on the knowledge base of music experts. Unlike Netflix, where ratings are all provided by users, Pandora’s filters are created by people who know the intricacies of their subject area. Presumably this results in a higher-quality result, with selections based on clear criteria, rather than expressions of a popularity contest.

There’s definitely a place for both models in this new social networking world.

Tempest

Thanks to my Mom for her very heart-felt and sweet reminder about getting in the bathtub and pulling a mattress over my head in case of a tornado. I had images of a) herniating a disc trying to drag the mattress off the bed, and b) getting the three dogs in the bathtub with me. I did actually resort to that maneuver once many years ago while living in a ricky-ticky duplex in Columbia. Except not with the dogs.

But apparently we were briefly under a tornado warning around the time I was driving home from lunch and writing my other post. I tried calling Jon on his cell a few minutes ago and got his voice mail. I wanted to make sure everything was okay at his house in Windsor. I imagine he’s off doing his civic duty as a Windsor Town Council member — reports are that the Council building was hit by the tornado and there was a great deal of damage all through the area — he sure picked an exciting time to become an elected official.

Baby, it’s green outside

Late-breaking news … already had reported tornadoes in Windsor, several rounds of hail here along with downpours of rain, and another cell — reportedly showing rotation — due to arrive here in about half an hour. It’s like being back in Missouri — the sky to the south is a sickly green and hanging very low. I’d head to the basement with the radio, canteen, and army blankets, but I don’t have a basement. It’s also really, really quiet. I’m excited. I know, I know — but I was the one who always wanted to run outside to see the baddest, wildest storms.

I called Carol to make sure she was keeping an eye on the weather, and she was up to her chin in re-routing buses. It sounded like a command post in the background.

Here’s a webcam shot from my neighborhood, taken at 12:20 (about 40 minutes ago).

I just took these shots at 1:00. Starting to hear thunder now … it’s making the dogs bark.

Deeper down the rabbit hole

I’m continuing my exploration into the world of Web 2.0 today by posting some Trees, Water & People videos to YouTube, uploading a Powerpoint slideshow to SlideShare (a presentation I did last summer about the Soapstone oral history project, nothing earth-shattering, this is just experimental), and some photos from the Indian Market to Flickr. Please note that all the photos from the Indian Market were taken by my dear bunny Carol! Who rocks! Who supports me and is such a good sport when I ask her to come help out at the Market and she ends up taking pix all day. Really good ones, I might add. So a big shout out to her.

Here’s my favorite pic that Carol took at the Market. The t-shirt reads “I’m part white, but I can’t prove it.”

Bugs (a cautionary tale)

I just got home from an absolutely beautiful bike commute from the TWP office. I rode up Mason, hopped on the Poudre River bike trail, and rode it all the way to Laporte. I had never ridden the new section between Taft Hill and Overland, and it was very cool. Towards the end, there’s a long, meandering bridge that crosses the Poudre, with the river below and enormous cottonwoods draped all around.

Riding my bike is such a joy. I feel strong and the bike leaps under me when I put the hammer down. I love everything I can see and experience in the open air and the smooth feeling of my legs driving the pedals around and around. It’s calming and exhilarating. But you have to be careful about grinning too big as the bugs are hatching out, especially around the river, and you fly through clouds of them as you go.

Sensory inventory: heard peepers (three different places) and red-winged blackbirds; smelled the sweet aroma of the cottonwoods and the fresh green-water scent of the river (which is starting its rise; the warm temps this week are sending the snowpack downstream in a big hurry); felt the alternating cool of the shade amongst the trees and warmth of the sun out in the open; saw a tiny snake slithering off the bike path and into the tall grass; and tasted the salt on my upper lip (but didn’t taste any bugs; they’re too small).

According to our RTR training schedule, this is a rest week, with just a couple of easy rides, no hills. But I had to do Bingham anyway. Riding with my backpack wasn’t as annoying as I thought it might be, but I noticed that it put me down a rung in the hierarchy. When we’re out cycling, we lift a casual three fingers off the handlebars to acknowledge cyclists passing in the other direction. But only other road bikers — we don’t wave at mountain bikers, and vice versa. But if you’re a road biker who’s commuting (backpack), the cyclists who are out purely for a training ride don’t wave to you either.

The other note I feel compelled to log is that Chamois Butt’r is a must, even on short rides. Nuff said.

Oh, one other thing — if I ever do a blog that’s just about cycling, I’ve decided to call it “Weird Tan Lines.”

All uphill.

Ride the Rockies is three and a half weeks away and Carol and I are training our asses off. Maybe literally. The route profiles were published on the RTR website recently, as if I wasn’t motivated enough.

Last Sunday (5-11) we rode to the top of Rist Canyon and back, 36 miles roundtrip, with an altitude gain of around 2800 feet. The last part of the road to the top is a 12% grade, after 13 miles of relentless uphill. It was just killer. But just being able to get to the top was such a huge confidence booster for me — working through this little mental problem I have with the hill climbing has been the biggest part of my training. Rist was a major breakthrough.

Yesterday we rode the Community Classic Bike Tour, put on by McKee Medical Center in Loveland to benefit their foundation. Carol has ridden the CCBT since the late 90s, and it was so cool to ride it with her this year. Except the part about having to get up at 5:00. On a Sunday. After working all day the previous day at the Indian Market. Whatever. I saw this as a good dress rehearsal for RTR, as we opted to do the metric century (100km, or 62 miles) route up and over Carter Lake then up and over Horsetooth and back to Loveland.

It was an incredibly beautiful morning and day, and on the drive down to Loveland we saw a group of mule deer along Taft Hill south of town, and then a half mile later saw a coyote out for a morning prowl. The first part of the ride wound through Loveland along their bike trail system, which was just gorgeous. The meadowlarks were practically shouting, and everything is a perfect, fresh green. An hour into the ride we were peeling out of our vests and arm warmers and heading up the road to Carter Lake. This was the only part of the ride I had any concerns about, but in my slow, steady way, I got myself up the switchbacks to the lake with no problem at all. I met Carol at the top and said, Was that big, bad Carter? I had it built up in my mind as a monster, and it was a breeze. It’s the Rist Effect.

The ride along the reservoir was brilliant, and it was just great fun to be riding with so many other people. It really adds an atmosphere and energy to the ride that pulls you along. Plus the aid stations are a good excuse to stop, get the go juice topped off, get some circulation back in your ass. Continuing down from Carter, we were back on roads that I’ve ridden a lot this spring, so it was all a known quantity. The only unknown was handling the distance — our longest training ride to date had been 51 miles, a month ago, and I had struggled after the 3-hour mark on that ride. But yesterday, my legs felt so fresh and so good, and by the time we were heading up towards the hills over Horsetooth, I realized that I wasn’t feeling hammered at all. I even had the pleasure of passing quite a few people going up the hills. It’s particularly fun to pass the guys, especially the ones that had blown by me earlier in the day.

The last part of the ride was a bit of grind, once we got down from Horsetooth and had to make our way back to Loveland along Shields. There was a bit of a SE headwind and a lot of traffic, just a very exposed and not particularly lovely stretch of road, especially compared to where we had just been. But the last couple of miles were back on the Loveland bike trail, and they were very, very beautiful, smooth, quiet, no traffic. And then at the 4:15 mark (saddle time, our total time was 5 hours) we rolled together under the Finish line banner and got right to the important business of the pancake breakfast.

We were just dead the rest of the day, but I’m feeling pretty good today, energy-wise, and relatively limber. I handled the distance just fine, and the hills; we did really well keeping fueled during the ride so that neither of us had any bonks. Just wondering now what it will be like to then get back on the bike the next day and do it all over again …

You mean you don’t still live in tipis?

I spent all day Saturday at the Fort Collins Indian Market, a gathering of Native artists and musicians, traditional and contemporary, drummers, rappers, Iroquois, Chumash, Lakota, Dineh, Pawnee, Shawnee, Cherokee, Crow, Ute, kids, teenagers, just-graduated CSU students and their parents, the surprised and curious, and everyone with their dogs. Brilliant blue sky and temperatures in the mid-80s.

I shot footage all day, we did interviews with some of the artists, but the best part for me was the last act of the day, Quese IMC and Bunky Echo-Hawk. Quese is a hip-hop artist from LA, and Bunky is a painter from Boulder. The cool thing about filming is that you’re thinking about the story as you watch the moment unfold; it’s different than being a spectator, somehow, more active; your eye is sharp for the details that will represent the feeling, capture your feeling, how it affected you. Like having to make up on the spot the answer to the question, what was it like? And instead of using words to describe it, you’re catching these images on tape that will answer for you.

So Quese is starting his rap, and as he’s performing Bunky is painting in response to the rap, just letting the paint fly over his canvas. There’s a knot of self-conscious junior high and high school age white Fort Collins kids standing off to the side, probably thinking, yeah, finally something we can relate to. But they’re shy. Their parents are probably watching. So they’re just standing there. But bit by bit, Quese is pulling them around to the front … engaging them … getting them to move … put their hands up … a little higher … now fists are pumping … now they’re jumping up and down and finally now they’re chanting along with him, call and response, and they’re just lit up, incandescent. It doesn’t matter that anyone is watching. This amazing energy thing is happening and the coolest thing is that I get to film it, watch it happen, respond in my own way by taking the pieces in through my lens and imagining how they will come back together to tell the story. I guess I’m doing what Bunky is doing with his painting.

These two guys, Quese and Bunky, are young, urban, cool and tough looking, yet still they seem tender to me in spite of the hip-hop attitude and regalia. I hope their own young people — the young indigenous kids on reservation and off — can look at these two guys and see the pride in who they are, the richness of where they come from, and find a way like Quese and Bunky have to honor the old ways and bring them forward.

And yeah, I bought Quese’s CD. My first-ever rap music. Yo. Representing the Middle-Aged Woman Nation. Dope.

Check out this video that Quese did for the Native American Rights Fund (the painter in the video is Bunky). And this painting by Bunky: “Custer’s Last Thought”

Fort Collins Indian Market

The first Fort Collins Indian Market is today and tomorrow down in Old Town Square, organized and run by the Fort Collins Museum. I’ll be there filming some of the artists and musicians, and Brenda and I will be doing short interviews with some of the Native folks (and people visiting the event, too) to get their perspectives on contemporary Native culture and how the old ways inform and inspire the new ways. Should be a great day.

Begin … now.

But don’t be satisfied with stories, how things
have gone with others. Unfold
your own myth, without complicated explanation,
so everyone will understand the passage,
“We have opened you.”
- Rumi