Thursday, November 13, 2008

The winds should come and catch you

Thursday, November 13, 2008
Jesus lost his virginity yesterday. Jesus Killer, my fabulous fixed gear friend, that is. And I am referring to his crash virginity rather than my having given him a good up the seat post seeing to. Fucking Fairview folks. Again.

This spilling of Jesus, this spilling of me, bore quite the resemblance to my own, non-figurative cherry-popping, in that it took place on wet ground and was unremarkable in just about every conceivable way. A quick turn into the park, wet leaves, fucking down we go. I'm still sore. Left shoulder. Right knee. Heel of my left hand. Ouchy, ouchy, ouchy. Jesus remains relatively unscathed.

The irony of my being helped up by a bus driver was not lost on me, nor should it be lost on you. These fuckers seem to spend most of their working day attempting to make orphans of my children and yet it would seem that if you take them from behind their oversized wheels they become quite the gentle men and women.

'Wet leaves, was it?' It was, Mr Bus Driver Man, it was.

But I want to talk briefly about the moment. On this occasion, it was but a brief moment, though once it lasted longer. When, during my second ever ride upon Hardcore Motherfucker, I slammed on the brakes and flew through the air with greatest of ease, landing on outstretched arms, and shattering my right elbow, I must have been in the air for a good three seconds. Yesterday, it was just the blink of eye, the flash between feeling the wheels go and the grounding itself. But in both cases there was the moment, that seems somehow to last forever. The moment when control is lost and the burdens of this cursed life become no longer mine. Instinct is doing the fall breaking, the arm outstretching, the face protecting and the mind is left to wander free in a kind of nirvana. I don't even think with hopeful relief that maybe this time I'll die or even just get a couple of weeks in hospital. I think of nothing, which is oh so very rare. I can see totally see the attraction of jumping, if only I didn't have to make the decision to jump.

I disagree with you Hubert. For me, my fictional French friend, l'important, c'est pas l'atterissage, c'est la chute.

And so far so fucking good.

10 Johns and Janes for the comment whore:

Sniffle&Cry said...

Is there an internal voice moaning to kop on with that fixed gear thing in town?

Did that wet leaves thing, came on and off all of a sudden. Sore as shit, and so not soaring eagle like.

Conan Drumm said...

I was but a boy when I flew over the handlebars and landed face first on the front windscreen of a parked car. It had never been parked there before and I was in a hurry back to school after lunch. I kept on going, the way you do, but was sent home later with delayed shock. Take it easy.

gimme a minute said...

Jesus is designed especially for town use. The slowing down, the speeding up, the constant forward motion.

The showy-offy track stands that I have still to perfect.

I was not sent home early from yoga.


problemchildbride said...

Oh I know that feeling of sailing fast and free over the handlebars! Well I remember that sickening crunch of 10-year-old upon gravel. Days of Kia Ora and scabby knees. You brought it all back today, Gimme. Apart from the saying of fucking. I didn't say fucking back then.

I have this image of you soaring, Gimme. Somewhere in Dublin, soaring then leafy.

fatmammycat said...

On bikes not so much, but I spent plenty of time sailing through the air off the back of a horse. And once in a spectacular E daze I manage to completely bajax myself by toppling high from on high off a footpath. There wasn't a whole lot going on in my noggin' that night either.
Glad you're okay.

Ellie said...

Oh dear.

stipes said...

so, your the bloke trying to do the track stand at the lights and falling over. How I laughed

gimme a minute said...

Soaring to sore. I am very sore now. I feel for the ten year old, hepped up on Kia Ora Sam.

That must have been quite the tumble. Probably didn't hurt much till the next day though.

And then it must have hurt real bad.

I'm fine. Thanks for your concerned calls and texts.

Sorry to disappoint, but I have yet to fall over in public while attempting this.

But you know, laugh it up at my slipping on leaves instead, you cunt.

Manuel said...

it's been ages since i came of the kona......i'm due a fatman spill soon.....fear grips me

gimme a minute said...

Be not afraid. I go before you always. Figuratively.

And it's the fear that will make you fall. That or fucking leaves.

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