The Ballad of a Substandard Cyclist

I finally got around to recording one of October's songs, and I'm starting to get the hang of Garageband. This is the third in my 'Songs About Challenges' repertoire and is definitely a step up from my last attempt, the now classic track "Sausages". This one is about the Sydney to Gong ride and cycling in general.

May I present: The Ballad of a Substandard Cyclist.

Ballad of a Substandard Cyclist by duskerdee

She rides... she rides...

It's like Lamaze

All this breathing and pushing

She rides

Uphill

We battle uphill

While old men sidle effortlessly by

I'm indicating

I'm on a bright yellow bike

And it's frustrating

Because I know I'm in your sight

But you're not waiting

You just drive out and make your point

There's so much hating

Around

Ninety kms...

How are we ever gonna make it

Along that highway?

Uphill

We battle uphill

I'm really gonna make it even if it means

I'm pedalling for days

I'm indicating

I'm on a bright yellow bike

And it's frustrating

Because I know I'm in your sight

But you're not waiting

You just drive out and make your point

There's so much hating

Around

She rides...

She rides...

She rides...

Diversion

Almost a year ago to the day, Dusker played a show at Manly Fishos. For our guitarist Jacob, it was a particularly memorable evening (happy anniversary, Yak and Mel), but for me, it was the band finding its feet and stretching its wings, one of our first gigs in the current configuration. We were the second act in the line up, I think, and directly after us were a 2-piece from Melbourne I’d never heard of before. They were good. Very, very good. Their name was Big Scary.

Now, I’m not one to berate the Sydney music scene (much), but we’ve played with a lot of bands who were not quite as inspiring. Sometimes that is because they just play a genre that I don’t really relate to, sometimes it is because the band (like us back then) are finding their feet a little bit, but often it is just because, frankly, they suck. So I am always excited when we get put on a line up with someone who makes my ears prick up, or that I think is comparable in style to our sound. It seems to happen so rarely. Big Scary was one of those bands that I immediately thought “wow”. They’ve got amazing stage presence for only 2 people. And damn they were cool. So much cooler than us. And the sound was so together; the vibe was huge.

I wanted to be friends, but I think they knew they were cooler than us too. Don’t get me wrong, they were lovely people and we chatted a bit, but there was no exchange of details, no “hey we should play together again some time!”. It’s like dating, except for bands. We’re sitting at the table in the restaurant looking nervous about ordering the pasta (fettucini!? I’m totally going to spill this shit all over my white shirt) and wondering whether $15 was enough to spend on a bottle of wine; they’re checking their phone for messages and generally looking aloof.

Anyway. The point of my story is, that was a year ago. Last night we played The Wall in Leichhardt and absolutely killed it. It was wonderous strange. I was squinting into the red light, dimly aware of the connection between my voice and the resulting sound coming out from the speakers, cloaked in a guitar solo on my right and beautiful plinky bits on the left (Dusker-speak for piano). It broke down into a 4-part harmony acapella section. It occurred to me then that we had become that band. The “wow” band.

At least, that’s what it was like in my head. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

Keeping things interesting

Nothing much to report these last two days, except that I tried to get in touch with Father Kevin BC again, had a good chat to Carly-le about the bike ride which left me feeling a little lighter about the situation, and sang nicely at gospel rehearsal. Annoyingly one of our best gigs got cancelled.

A cancelled rehearsal left a beautifully open night, which was then immediately filled by the prospect of dinner with some friends it felt like we hadn’t seen for a decade. Sleep is a nice option too, but who can possibly pass up a chance to say hello to this little face?

Hi Baotze!

I’m going for a spin class with Scobie on Saturday morning, so, I may or may not regret that later. They’ve called it “Cycle class” to make it appear less terrifying but they can’t fool me. If that doesn’t strike me down with a migraine then we have 30th Birthday No. 1 Saturday afternoon, picnic style in the sun, and then later in the evening we move onto 30th Birthday No. 2 which is swanky dinner stylee and I will probably even wear a skirt, amazing. Then on Sunday we’re back at Day Job Studios to play with Bam— I mean, record some exquisite music with Briscoe. You know, just a regular weekend really.

And a gig at the Bald Faced Stag in Leichhardt tonight, for anyone so inclined…

The spaces in between

So, the 22nd came and went, and 6 postcards failed to materialise. There was only one that I wasn’t really expecting to get back, and they’re ok. I didn’t want to learn how to surf anyway (water is cold, and also wet! Two things I don’t like very much). Another is excused due to the lateness of her inclusion and the fact she had a baby almost immediately. But still.

The whole experiment inadvertently took on an emotional life of its own as I took the rollercoaster ride of checking what the postman had brought each day. For the first few days, nothing. Then one. Then a dribble. Then a swarm. First the postcards from those I knew I could rely on, and the wide-eyed wonder of the challenges they proposed. The warmth in realising how well they knew me. Then those on the outer, who I thought might palm the entire thing off as some outlandish flight of fancy, but humoured me anyway. Delight in their deliberate thoughtfulness. Then the surprises, the people to whom I’d cast a wide net but wasn’t sure they would rise to the occasion; the recognition of handwriting from people long lost and a subsequent stirring of affection.

I guess I’d sort of expected not to get all 29 postcards back, but what surprised me in the end is which ones didn’t come home. Every flourish of childish excitement at the unexpected ones, I now realise is countered with a short sharp pang at those who didn’t deem the project important enough. Who didn’t deem me important enough.

Now the deadline has passed, I will admit that I secretly hoped somebody would ask me to get a tattoo, but oh well. I also hoped I would be given the justification to learn how to drive and learn some skills in the kitchen, so it evens out. Perhaps fortunately, the ever-prepared Jacob Sewell considerately provided me with four challenges instead of one. I’ve really only taken up 3 of them, but that at least takes my tally to 26 challenges.

That leaves me three challenges. For bonus points, I am filling the gaps.
1. Give blood.
2. Learn conversational Japanese.
3. Find out more about my parents.

Giving blood is something I’ve always thought I should do, since high school, but never got up the gall to go through with it. The Japanese sounds like a big one, but I really just want to learn enough to help me figure out where the train station is and how to order some sake when we visit there next July. It’s a flying visit, 4 nights in Tokyo, but I dare say that’s plenty of time to get tremendously lost on the way to the train station and accidentally order octopus brains. Hence, a basic understanding of Japanese would be nice. The parental thing is something I literally just came up with. My Mum and Dad got married late in proceedings and are quite inhibited about their lives before me and before each other. It’s intriguing. I have hints about who they were, but often I feel like I don’t really know them. They’re not big talkers.

I’ve also realised there are other goals I have quietly set for myself – the vegetarian Thursday thing; trying to read all of the books on our bookshelf before going to the store and drooling over more of them; drinking more water instead of soft drinks or cordial; the “no non-essential spending” weeks. I’d be doing these things anyway, so don’t worry, I’m not trying to cheat, but it is just curious the way we make these shifts without giving them too much thought.

And that was the weekend.

On Saturday morning, I woke up quietly buzzing. Wow! We’re going horseriding! And we’re driving there in our new car! And we’re going to hang out with Jaimi! Our lesson had been bumped forward to 1pm which meant more time to check out Jaimi’s hood and still fit in a well-deserved BBQ afterwards. I tried to piece together a suitable wardrobe, aware that my yoga pants were perhaps not quite as fashionable as I’d led myself to believe but wearing them anyway, and got out a notepad to plot a route northwards. It’s an easy journey but as only passenger and chief navigator I take my job very seriously.

We left late in the morning hoping the weather would hold out. I was secretly studying Ben manoeuvring the manual and chanting “2 to 3… 3 to 4…” in my head as the gears shifted. Then the oil light came on. And then the engine died. And then the power steering cut out. All this while we were going quite fast along Parramatta Road. Fortunately Crunk had enough steam and Ben had enough wits about him to idle into a side street without causing too much chaos. We knew there was nothing wrong with the oil – a new filter had been put in the day before. This is the second time this had occurred, but the first since we’d sold a kidney to pay for repairs. Ben got the car started again and we elected to head home rather than challenge the volatile teenaged wreck with our lives. The horses weren’t going anywhere (well, not out of the valley anyway).

So the car still sucks, and no horses – double whammy.

On the plus side, it freed up our afternoon to go and crash Carla’s birthday non-party. We fitted in a BBQ after all, just before a massive thunderstorm ripped through north Sydney, all lovely and humid.

The rain continued the next morning and almost washed out our gig. They cancelled all the acts right up to us and just told us to “sit tight”. I gave up and went to bed with my Danny Wallace book, but then it cleared enough for them to get the gear onstage, so I had to get my shit together. Thank goodness for that. It was only 3 songs, but it was such a treat to play on a stage with enough room for me to jump around on when usually we are trying to avoid giving each other concussions with our instruments.

One quarter down...

Captain’s Blog, belatedly summarising on the first quarter of absurdity.

#1 – The Fundraising Ball. Ugh. I have not thought any more about this and will really have to think of a plan of attack soon if I’m to pull it together in any way that will be even mildly successful.
#2 – The Other Fundraiser. As previously mentioned, 3 fundraising events is a bit much, so unfortunately for Tracey, this one has been merged.
#3 – Laughing Strangers. 12 weeks, 2 laughs. It is a pitiful tally. I keep having lots of ideas on how to make this work, but chickening out of them. Time to grow some metaphorical balls.
#4 – i. Mediation. My consistency leaves a little to be desired, but I am definitely meditating a lot.
ii. Good Deed a Week. Did anybody else notice that I totally disregarded this challenge? My bad. This was before I realised I wasn’t going to get a full 29 challenges. Maybe I should pick this up.
iii. Song Per Month. I’ve written… 2.5 of them. Only that pesky .5 to go, and I could probably knock it on the head if I wasn’t so pedantic about the whole thing.
iv. 26km Coast Track. I think we’re going to do this in late January.
#5 – Songs About Challenges. I’ve written… 2.5 of them. But the lyrics are good.
#6 – Bathurst. I contacted that guy, but never heard back. I should try harder.
#7 – Gospel. Finally, a challenge I can claim to have actually advanced on! I’ve been accepted as a member of the choir and are attending rehearsals every week.
#8 – Children’s Hospital. Before I delve too far into this one I need to learn some children’s songs.
#9 – Harbour Walks. I’m really lagging on this one. I went to buy ‘sensible walking shoes’ and came back with some Adidas Shelltoes. Hmm.
#10 – Driving. I’ve only had 4 lessons, but we did purchase a car. Unfortunately it doesn’t like us very much and I am scared to get in it, but I’m hoping this will pass.
#11 – Tasmania. All booked in for the first weekend in February… although now I think of it we should maybe book some accommodation.
#12 – Scrapbooking. I pressed some flowers. That’s about all the progress I’ve made on this one this month.
#13 – Cooking. I’ve been dabbling in the kitchen every now and then. Schnitzel is next on my list.
#14 – TV. Why hasn’t anybody called me? Note to self: register for Letters & Numbers.
#15 – Horseriding. This update requires an entirely separate post.
#16 – Sydney to Gong. The ride is only 13 days away. I am freaking out.
#17 – Reunion Dinner. I tracked down the old parish priest and I must get back in touch and see if we can lock in a date. Wow.
#18 – Breakdancing. Matt & Cassie threatened to change their challenge, but it’s too late now. I will deal with this one next year.
#19 – The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter. Indeed it is. I finished the book, and went through the emotional ringer getting there too. What a story.
#20 – Yeats. No progress.
#21 – Youtube. Same old, same old.
#22 – Busking. I have got a couple of songs under my belt now, but not yet a full repertoire.
#23 – Cliff. Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you about this one. Apparently I have to jump off a cliff. A specific one, into water. You’re not supposed to, but people do it all the time, so they say. If your friend told you to go jump off a cliff, would you do it? I guess I have to…
#24 - #29 – This also requires a separate post: Friend Fail.

The first time I did a monthly summary, it made me feel a lot better about my overall progression with the whole thing, and got me gee’d up and excited about it… I must admit, it’s not working quite so well any more… bring on November…?

Bike maths

It took me 35 minutes to ride into work this morning – new personal best. Self esteem win. I did however have another high flying business jerk dangerously cut me off on Abercrombie St at whom I yelled the C word very loudly, so I’m also glad I didn’t get arrested. Ben’s got some new App on his phone that tracks his journeys and gives him a reading of his average speed, distance travelled, etc. It’s pretty cool and significantly cheaper than buying one of those fangled bike computers. Yesterday he did 9.94 kms in 27.14 mins, so that’s looking like just over 4 hours to get down to Wollongong. A worthy target. Me, I guess I’m averaging out at around 40 minutes for 8.2kms, so that brings me in at the slightly less impressive time of 7.3 hours. Ben leaves at 6.30am so as expected will probably be frolicking in the ocean or gorging on French toast well before 11am. I leave at 8am so I’ll be lucky to arrive before 4pm. Yikes. Carly has tried to alleviate my concerns by reminding me that she doesn’t even own a bike yet... but I'm not sure if it's working.

It’s the 22nd, and I need to record my 2 songs. Jacob’s is entitled “Tiny Mantis” and is about distracting myself from bigger issues by watching the wildlife directly outside my window. Bart’s is entitled “The Ballad of the Substandard Cyclist” and is rather self-explanatory. To be honest, neither of them are 100% complete, but I was kind of hoping that if I pointed behind you and yelled “hey look at that really interesting thing over there!” nobody will notice.

Oh yeah, and we’re playing at Marrickville Festival on Sunday for a blazing hot 20 minutes. Come and be amazed! And also, make yourself sick on gozleme. But mostly be amazed.