Atl 4

Braggy-Braggy

This post is just to say that, while MasterGote may never experience the pains of childbirth, running a marathon, or occupying the highest tax bracket, riding an off-brand, $125, 17kg behemoth of a mountain bike with a loose saddle through snow, mud, sand, and occasional stretches of asphalt for 74km can now be checked off the list of the quite painful (but potentially awesome) things to do in life. Sore bottom, sunburn, and multiple bruises notwithstanding, it was one of the funnest things I've done so far in Russia. The people were absolutely lovely for letting a bum like me join in on their ride, considering I've never "ridden" longer than from Brooklyn to Queens and back and didn't even know the right way to change gears for going uphill (wha? there's a way to go up a hill without standing on the pedals???). Anyway, here are some pictures and here are some more braggy-braggy stats about the ride (in Russian). People back in the BK, start training...

Still snowing here...

Savior Cathedral, Andronikov Monastery, Moscow. ca.1410-27

(info info)

Two Important Opinions

1) In a cultural moment of weakness, your humble Gote spent Saturday evening at the Theatre, haggling with the evil usher lady about whether or not checking his "outerwear" was truly necessary (apparently so) and then being ignored by the despicable garderobe lady who failed to see that he was indeed waiting in line and didn't butt in there like any old lady at the post-office.

The real disappointment of the evening, however, was how boring and pointless Chekhov's The Cherry Orchard is/was. Reminds me of Eugene Mirman's parody of a certain slice of the young Brooklyn population: "Oh, New York is so hard, wawawa." Except more in the key of "the landed gentry is being forced to abandon its untenable, antiquated, exploitative ways and wrapping it up in the nauseating aura of family values, nostalgia for a better time, and romantic love." As the kids used to say: gag me with a spoon. I think I prefer Ibsen. At least his characters were just plain old bat-shit crazy. A way better image.

2) I forgot what my other important opinion was. But it's finally gotten colder here, so the ground is super slippery (black ice!) and looks like it is paved with a layer diamonds. Sparkly, sparkly snow falling from the sky looks like mini strobe lights on a Saturday night. Ready-made outdoor disco for one.

Use your imagination for this one.

* * *

In a feverish dream, I suddenly had trouble breathing. I was choking on the cold air coming in from the window, and I saw in the not too distant future the slick black pavement under the orange cast of streetlamps of winter. It's getting darker earlier, and I'm sick in bed. I think the wet black streets I am remembering come from some place where I am smaller and the pavement is vaster. The winter is coming, and with it, artificial light, soggy shoes, and the gusts of wind. The darkness making envelopes to travel in. The yellow light and swirls of soggy snow.

Goya, Blasts of Wind/Tale Bearers, 1799

UPDATE: Okay, my Soplones are almost over. Now if I could only find the text of Heidegger's "Was ist Metaphysik?" online. I thought the Germans were all about sharing their Kulturalheritage. What gives?!?!