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So last week I brazed some brake bosses to the fork of the new/old Raleigh. Brazing is a process of joining metal in which two pieces of a certain material (in this case steel) are held together by a joint of a different metal with a lower melting temperature (in this case brass). Before the steel fork leg and the steel brake boss could be joined, they both had to be cleaned to avoid contaminating the brass fillet. This was achieved by sanding them down to bare metal, and by applying an acidic flux that also serves to draw the flow of molten brass.

After prepping the parts and holding them in place with a temporary fixture, the oxy-acetlyn torch comes out. By mindfully heating both steel elements to roughly the same red-hot temperature, you can ensure that the brass rod will melt and meld to both of them easily. What needs to be kept in mind are the different properties of the parts to be joined that will affect how quickly they heat up, how long they hold their heat, and how the blazing jet of flame will push the molten brass along their juncture.

Once the joint is brazed, the fork is functionally done. However, it is æsthetically far from perfect. (An aside, I just really wanted to use the ‘æ’ character, even if it’s not entirely correct. Æ!)

The torched flux becomes very hard, but is easily removed by soaking in water. After sitting in a bucket for a day or two, Paul brought the (only somewhat) cleaner fork to me at the bike shop where I spent several hours after closing filing, riffling, sanding, and smoothing out the fillets. The brass looks much better now, and I’ve a much higher appreciation for masterful brazing that requires only the minimum of cleanup.

Brazing for the first time was very satisfying, and the process of juggling multiple metal and mental pieces was no more difficult than I imagined. That is to say, I believe this is something I could come to do well with practice. Loose plans have been made among like-minded cohorts to work in tandem on some initial frame building this summer. That is to say, we have most of the tools and materials, and we have enthusiasm.

Tomorrow I’m bringing the rest of the frame over to Paul’s shop so I can braze some brake bosses to the rear as well. Hopefully I’ll remember to take some photos of the finished fork bosses, and maybe some shots of me wearing wicked cool welding glasses as well.

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I guess it’s been a while since I’ve felt like writing anything here, but I’d still like to keep this a relatively accurate written account of being alive. So here’s an unordered list of things I’ve been up to lately.

• Started doing some very rudimentary brazing with Paul’s help. I’m adding some brake studs to an enormous Raleigh from 1968 that’s been sitting in Brad’s back yard for at least two years. It will be the polo bike someday. Anyway, oxy-acetlyne torches are fun.
• I’ve been working on a few fresh songs. Finishing some and starting others. So far this year I’ve only completed nine, but I think they’re pretty good. Still working on a satisfactory method of self-releasing them over the internet, but working harder or the music itself.
• Starting next Sunday my two days off per week will fall on adjacent days, which means I’ll be able to go on two-day bike rides with a little camping action in between. I haven’t been on the bike much in the past few weeks, but I’m itching to get out there with some lightly packed panniers.

Here’s hoping I’ll get back into writing here a little more frequently. Until then.

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Yesterday afternoon at work didn’t go my way. There was a string of minor but multiplying mistakes on my part that left me feeling clumsy, sloppy, and incompetent. I closed the shop feeling like a bad mechanic, with the remains of a project laying haphazardly on my bench.

I returned to the shop at night though, leaving my apartment just before midnight. I wanted to clean up the mess I made, and not leave any loose ends for my coworkers to deal with (or more likely push aside and lose) the next day.

I really enjoy working in the shop at night, whether it’s on my own bikes or some other project from the day. There are no customers, there are no coworkers, there is only the shop stereo, the tools, and I.

Being alone it can be quite romantic
like Jacques Cousteau underneath the Atlantic
a fantastic voyage to parts unknown
going to depths where the sun’s never shone
and I fascinate myself when i’m alone
-Andrew Bird, Lull

I fixed the bike I had left in pieces earlier in the day. I returned each tool to their place on the board. I cleared away accumulated litter and sorted parts into vessels. Once the mess was cleared, I pulled an old hub from my private stash of parts in the basement.

It’s a Super Record low flange front hub from the early ’70s. I placed it in a truing stand, and with the axle held in place the hub shell could spin freely. The bearings are older than me but still spun smoothly. I tapped out some Simichrome polish onto the hub and begin spinning it rapidly by pulling a rag back and forth across it. The polish turned from white, to grey, to black as it gently ground the tiniest particles of aluminum from the surface. Tiny scratches disappeared and the finish shifted from a dull silver to satin, and eventually to a mirror finish.

The ride to and from the shop was perfect. No cars on the road, a slightly cool Summer evening, crickets. When I got home I felt better.

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I’m not very good at remembering the songs I’ve written.

Since 2006 I’ve written about thirty songs that I’d consider worthwhile, lost interest in just as many songs half-way through writing them, and learned maybe seventy covers. I’ve tried a few strategies for listing this music, but none of them have worked perfectly. My constant fear is forgetting. I can think of a few songs whose titles I can recall, but the lyrics and melody of which are lost.

Written lists in notebooks fail as my stationary affections shift from one book to the next. Typed lists are usually inconsistent and don’t offer enough information about songs’ lyrics or chord structures to be helpful when I’m feeling forgetful. Folders full of text documents are the best solution I’ve found yet, but don’t mesh well with collection of .mp3’s I’ve recorded.

So as a little introvert-nerd project I’ve decided to make a little .html database of my music, a catalog that will combine lyrics, chords and tablature, and audio recordings. By making this database available online I can access the lists from wherever I get a signal, and at the same time it makes the my Creative-Commons licensed music open source.

The only trouble with this plan is that it means I need to go through every half-decent song I’ve written in the past twenty-odd months and clean up the lyrics, figure out what chords I’m playing, and then process it into some kind of structured document. I’m sure I can knock out of a few songs every night when I normally practice.

Today I got the most basic elements of the database put together, along with the first two tracks from Interstate 80. Once I’ve got that album done I’ll put the whole listing online.

Until then.

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Last night I started watching Synecdoche, New York as I was going to bed. I’m not sure at which point I shut it off, but it must’ve been about halfway through where things start to get a little surreal. Tonight I finished watching it and have since been feeling simultaneously giddy and glum.

As viewer the movie satisfies me so completely, but I’m not sure I know how to write about it. It’s a movie made by a self-reflective film director about a self-reflective theater director who creates a deeply recursive play about his creation of a play about plays. “It’s not a play about about dating, it’s about death!” shouts Hoffman’s character’s duplicate. “…it is a play about dating, not a play just about death. It’s about everything: Birth, death, life family. All that.” corrects Hoffman’s character.

There are so many little details and techniques that upon recognition provide me with such wonderment. The homonym title (and subsequent wordplay throughout), the unaccounted and often disorienting passage of time, the recurring theme music (“just a litle person, one person in a scene, of many little people…”), Hoffman’s character’s daughter’s diary as an impossible window into her estranged life, the apparent collapse of society into a military state in the background. I feel like I could watch this movie over and over and still not find every awesome nugget.

Yet at the same time, as it did the first time I saw it, the movie makes me feel really sad and lonely,worried about my life, and more than anything confused.

Which in turn makes me like it even more for so effectively fucking me up.

I’ve read that Synecdoche wasn’t very successful, wasn’t promoted very well, and (partly as a result of poor marketing) didn’t do well at the box office. I can understand this, I just hope that the people who finance these kinds of masterworks have enough faith in their eventual recognition.

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Yesterday Brad & I rode up into the hills.

Thanks to my own late waking, we didn’t get rolling until a little after ten in the morning. Brad was on his Extracycle equipped slick-tired MTB, and I rode my Doublecross. The sky was grey, but it didn’t look heavy enough to drop anything on us.

Honey Run was our first climb, and it looked like the hill had received a but more point since the last time I rode it. I guess the Wildflower brought a lot of attention to the area.

Once we made it to Paradise we started running into some heavy fog that turned into actual rain as we made our way along the bike path that runs parallel to Skyway. It wasn’t heavy enough to soak us through, but made me glad I was wearing wool.

The only other time I’ve ridden up to Inskip was two years ago, again with Brad, and Ryan and Nathan too. I was on a single-speed geared around 44x18 with only one brake. I remember endless climbing. This time the climbing was much easier, due in part to both an abundance of gears and what feels like being in some kind of shape.

Instead of coming back down on Honey Run we stuck to Skyway. Normally the preferred route is Neal Road, but we were ready to get home. The view from Skyway’s lone lookout spot gave on interesting perspective on the finger-like shapes of the foothills.

There’s talk of riding further past Inskip, all the way up to Butte Meadows. Likely this would be split into an overnight camping trip, riding through Inskip one day taking a route through Forest Ranch on the other. I am stoked for school to let out and such plans to become viable.

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Hello blag, sorry I haven’t written.

Yes, I know I told you I’d try to write more, but I’ve been busy lately. There’s work and school, and being a little more social.

No, you’re right. It’s not so hard to write to you. I know not every post needs to be well written, outlined, revisioned and revised.

You’re right, and I should. So how’ve you been? The same, huh? Today was pretty busy for me.

I got up around six or so and didn’t immediately go back to sleep (as has become the unfortunate routine), and putzed around the apartment making a long breakfast. I had a bowl of granola with strawberries, then a fried egg on toast, and some pancakes a little while later.

At quarter-past seven Renée and I rode out towards the fairgrounds for the beginning of the Wildflower Century ride put on by Chico Velo. Every years Pullins Cyclery runs the lunch stop, providing drinks, fruits, bars, sandwiches, muffins, candies, and more.

It was a pretty easy volunteer gig, involving lots of standing around, a little bit of work, and way much free food. My fridge is happy.

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It’s the fetishization of European cityscapes, and the divisive one-or-the-otherness between the trop pratique and the trop sportif that I find so distressing. It is one of the primary problems in the perception of cycling in the United States. Bikes can be a part of culture, not just bike culture, but Dutch bikes aren’t the only magical keys that can do it.

Via The Joke Is Up

(Haven’t had much time to write here lately, but hopefully these little bites will keep this blog from completely wasting away.)

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Haven’t updated this poor blog in a little while, so here’s a Woodie cover.

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John Gruber and Merlin Mann gave a talk at SxSW that centered on writing well and personal publishing, but it’s admittedly extensible beyond just blogging.

“…we’re going to assume that you make things, we’re going to assume that you care very much about certain issues or topics, to a point where you’re really verging on obsession. We’re going to assume that it’s important to you, whether you’re a writer, or a photographer, or an interpretive dance choreographer, that you want to get better at it.”

There’s a lot of good in the first fifteen minutes of their talk, but I recommend taking the time to listen through. Don’t worry, their talk is just as smart as their title is smart-ass.

SxSW ’09 - Gruber & Mann - HOWTO: 149 Surprising Ways to Turbocharge Your Blog With Credibility!

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