Who the Hell is maadjurguer?

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I like to ski, mountain bike, drink beer, cook and listen to any jam band I can get my hands on; all while making a complete ass of myself. Hopefully this catharsis is as interesting to others as it is to me.

Friday, March 4, 2011

A Beautiful Lie

A beautiful lie is a beautiful ride. Wind in hair through slotted helmet vents give feeling to warm, naked scalp; breathing out a sweaty ooze of effort and concentration deep within the shallow skull of bone and thought. Contemplation born of angst and trial evaporate away with every hill climbed, racing against demons not seen, but felt in the depths of heart and the ugly psyche of disease. The machine works like a craftmans swiss watch, disappearing from existence leaving the corpus floating across expanses of eroded time and infected by the sharp sting of cholla and brittlebrush. Thoughts come and go as they please like passengers getting on and off the orange line train from Vienna to Smithsonian; me sitting in the back, along for the ride and observing all, yet remaining invisible like a diety. Consumed with nothing, free to explore all; the mind is omnipotent in this flying, crashing, bumping, floating trip through time and space. Terrors of the world are seen from all angles, understood completely and dispatched with mechanical precision as another passenger leaves the train into worlds beyond relevance unto this two-wheeled reality.

The lie is the ride upon which we float above all dominance, contrived by society and perpetuated by willing participants. The lie is not what we tell ourselves in our secret dark moments of fear, huddling like rats in the last crawl space on a sinking ship. It is the bright and open expanse of possibility defined by a limitless track, chosen by an unknown creator long gone and forgotten. Epiphanies explode and pulse like neutrino stars, pulsing bright long after their birth and death upon the singletrack we ride. The astronomer peers up studying the illusory permanentness of these explosions, cataloging their brilliant character and referring to them as living entities despite their death before time. A beautiful lie brings order to an unordered existence, a plane of thought rife with oppressive obstacles, dismounts, walk-arounds, down-climbs and hike-a-bike. This beautiful lie allows all who listen the opportunity to imagine and live like the deity; powerful beyond comprehension yet distant and untouchable like the plasma bright neon, pulsing in waves too fast to see; shining bright and advertising that the taco shop is still open. A beautiful ride is a beautiful lie.


JB said...

Perhaps your best post ever. Thanks for the words.

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