Author Archives: bicyclemark

One for Blogger

I worked hard on this “offline”.

Today’s Sounds: Decemberists – Picaresque

A Letter to Ray

delayed post because blogger sucks a fat one lately.

Dear Mr. Ray Charles Robinson,

I just saw the film about your life, and I really wanted to talk to you. I know you were involved in the making, so I wanted to make sure to say — incredible work. Beyond that, I think I haven’t appreciated your music enough, so from now on, I’ll be collecting old Ray Charles recordings. My name’s BM and I play horn, and grew up in New Jersey, but now I live in the Europa. I write a little blog and produce a podcast as well, so I wanted to tell you I’ll be talking highly about you on both. Anyway I’m sure you’re a busy man, even posthumously, so this is just a thanks for the gifts you left us, from me and island girl, as we were captivated in that theater tonight.

All the best,

Bicyclemark

Today’s Sounds: Ray Charles – Greatest Hits

Some Soft Wear

Few things need to be discussed today, point by point sometimes helps.

– Ayer, it was Radiohumper’s B-day! The great sierra, who pushes the blogosphere and myself to do more, care harder, and just say it. If I ever had any doubt about mixing my passion for world affairs into my blogposts, she helped erase that doubt. It’s nothing short of a pleasure to travel in similar blog circles as the one and only RH. Parabens querida.

– The Robot Condoleeza announced today that she wouldn’t run for president in 2008. The announcement was made without emotion and in a monotone voice. A reporter asked a question to which it responded “questioning government does not compute.” To which the press core smiled and laughed, to the collective declaration… “isn’t she charming.”

– A blogger that I periodically/randomly keep up with, Contentious, makes some good points about using AOL instant messenger. Follow the link and read about how the losers at AOL can claim ownership over any ideas you talk about in your chats. She even recommends we stop using AIM. I’d love to, trouble is, my generation of net users grew up with AIM and AOL, and while hopefully most people have stopped using that crap-ass service, I know many use it cause they know it… like an old friend. Too bad when your friend double crosses you. I think AIM should eventually just shrivel up and die since Skype, MSN, and even Yahoo all have better options. (yeah.. AIM does have the more known web-based version)

– This one’s not so much about software, but if any of my dear readers are making the journey from the SanFran area to Amsterdam in the coming weeks, and you’re willing to run drugs carry a consumer electronics product… email me. (bicyclemark at yahoo)

Today’s Sounds: Madge Weinstein on the SloerieSource

Saturday is for Remembering

I’ve got new creative things coming this week for the blog. But as for today —
Rumor has it, and statistics will show, that on Saturdays less people read blogs and surf the net in general! Where did I get that? I dunno… I’ve been around. However– for me, Saturdays involve talking to the family, and lots of leisure time of course, and that’s when memories like this one come back to me:

It must have been 1995… not really sure. I’ve seen the family videos and it’s obvious from my squeaky voice and short stature, that puberty hadn’t hit. Whereas normally it was understood that summers were for being in Portugal and spending time with g’ma, g’pa and the many beloved cousins. In that particular summer, Mom and Dad decided we needed to do something more; they bought round-trip tickets on an overnight train to Madrid, and then tickets to Paris via train, as well. I had never stepped outside Portugal as far as Europe was concerned — so it was a very welcome idea!

And so this family of four set off by land to see the continent. It was a first for my family, but they were prepared for the adventure. I remember careful analysis of maps, meticulously packed bags, and the confirmation and re-confirmation of hotels, for those welcome nights not spent on the train.

But oh that train ride, especially in the night. I remember not being able to, or wanting to sleep. No… I wanted to stare out into the darkness of Extremadura, the vast emptiness that Spain seems to have so much of. Occasionally I would spot a streetlight, or a car, and I would follow it on the horizon for as long it was in sight. I also remember getting nervous when the train would make stops in the middle of the night. Convinced that the whole train was sleeping, except for me, and I was the only witness of the made-for-tv style robbery that was about to take place. Oh sure, they were supposed to be border guards, but I knew the score, I was ready to defend the family train cabin! Hmm… I think I fell alseep after that.

I wonder if it wasn’t around then when this bug bit me. Wanting to learn french, and any language you put in front of me basically. My parents had brought me to the heart of Europe, and I liked it, perhaps knowing that I would return eventually, taller, wiser, and with a receding hairline.

Oh and I’m still A-Peeling for tips to help fund the mac purchase, much thanks to I.V. in Jacksonville, and my buddy Sunlight Disinfectant.

Today’s Sounds: Maynard Ferguson – Caravan

Not Death But Taxes

Since this here blog began, and especially since it has blossomed (to quote the prolific Verbal Chameleon), I have gotten lots of emails from strangers. One turned out to be a long-lost cousin in Calipornia, sometime they are from fellow Luso’s. (Luso means linked to Portugal or Portuguese Culture)some just wanted to say they read and enjoy, but still others ask advice; something like: “I want to go live outside the US BM! Can you give me some advice?” And since I too received lots of advice along the way, I reply with long and very thought out responses. A bit of rah-rah go live wherever your heart takes you. But never forgetting a bit of, as my friend crazy dr. m reminded me this evening, you cannot link all your happiness to a place. Place matters, I do believe that. But I also believe and have experienced that whatever is troubling you, the problems that haunt you will follow you wherever you move to. Turning your potential paradise in pamplona into just another miserable year for the running of the bulls.

But lately I’m haunted by one of those dirty details that will bite you in the arse no matter where you move to. Tackses! Spelling it different might throw the IRS off, and when I say IRS, I mean those mean-ass tacks collectors who crunch my numbers in the US, Portugal, and the Netherlands. Yeah.. you heard right. This triple personality disorder can result in a bit of a mess. I can speak THE dutch, but read a tacks form in dutch? I can barely do that in the queen’s english. gulp. Anybody a Dutch accountant by any chance?

This is not to discourage you. No No. As I’ve often written, immigrating from one’s country of birth is an honorable and timeless tradition. I hate how sometimes the US is seen as immune from this tradition. They talk and talk about immigrants moving to the states, I want to talk about emmigrants, who left the country and made lives for themselves around the world! What do you think the percentage is anyway? statistics.. I’ll work on that.

Sniff sniff… my whiting with potatoes in a veggie sauce must be ready! midnight is a good time to have my dinner.

Oh.. and tonight we’re remembering the anniversary – March 11th… and the Madrid bombings. Much respect and love to all those affected.

Today’s Sounds: Decemberists – Her Majesty