i can go off the SSRI’s and get on some PED’s. take it to the streets, player.   thanks to this dude, i am cracking all my paintbrushes in half and hanging it up.

Just a friendly note to my co-workers via email.  passive aggressive, i know.  fuck it.  it’s work.  i can act how i want?  right? hey fellas! good afternoon and happy new year! i had a little experience today that i just want to share with you all, what with our being coworkers of sorts, and [...]

Happy holiday time.

I don’t know what to make of this, but you should skim it over and emit a little tiny evil chuckle.  Seems Ol’ Greggy (aka, Shotgun) is taking pro cycling’s grumpy, bitter, who-pissed-in-my-blood-bag role from the long-hailed Badger, aka Bernard Hinault.  This decade, though, the weapons are gavels, not bikes.  That’s weak sauce, I know, but here on [...]

look — it’s not like i’m not grateful for the opportunity to be doing some shit for money.  all bunch of fools are hard up for the greenback these days.  it’s just that, um, i keep ending up here. for years, for me, the smell of vulcanized rubber was accompanied by other nice smells: youth, [...]

Or don’t. Today marks 10 months of “don’t” for me. Suffices to say I think I’m over it. Used to LOVE the Marlboro Reds. They made me feel like a skinny, bow-legged, motherfucking cowboy with glasses. I never felt any kind of hurt when riding as a result of being a tuff guy smoking guy. [...]

Not to make light of anything said here in the past day or two, but goddammit if this whole VDB thing isn’t just bugging the shit out of me. It’s been the elephant in the room of my cycling spectatorship since Pantani gave up.  It really bothers me that we put so much emphasis on [...]

we will all be broken by the world.  my ride looks like this: keep it extreme, buttlicks.

babies and hangovers: they go together like jihad and a plane ticket. conceptually, they are best of friends. just ask this dude:   i think i found the well last night.  It came in the form of a little number i like to call a “nighthawk,” which is like a redbull/vodka, only the point is to [...]

the gaze of an eagle fixed upon the one hill in indiana – it must be right behind the camera. the hair: a taught burl of young promise. a young cutter, legs ashine in the academic glow of a solid C average. late for school again, the miles mattered most. mini-truck, denim sweater, mullet? no. [...]

I sit here a few hours away from getting on the highway to go build some bicycles for the Americans. I’m back in the Circle Mine again and happy to be. I’ve somehow always been able to count on bikes pretty much being the same, me still having all my fingers, and the pay being [...]