Detoured into Ice

Nothing new to report on the cycling front. One more day off while I “plannify” — yes, still plannifyin’ to finish this ride which has detoured into a an icy convalescence. Detoured and detuned. A moment of dissonance follows:

… And apropos of nothing some Sturm und Drang …

Disconnect

Have you ever felt like a one trick pony?
Have you ever seethed day in and day out?

We screamed. We protested. We sat-in.
We occupied.

We are in a persistent somnolence—
In a pathological spiral of disconnect.

I can’t know what I’m unable to perceive.
I only know this, what we do, is insane.

I iced and I iced until my brain disconnected, until my vagus nerve went into deep freeze, until I detoured America with horns. 

If my knee returns to human dimensions I will be out riding tomorrow, if it remains looking like a leaden zeppelin — like a denatured dirigible — then I shall not be out cycling, but psycho-ling is a definite possibility. 

Let’s hope sanity wins out and that the general practitioner and orthopedic specialist go without a new referral. 

Find out tomorrow . . .

What I’m Reading:

If I die, this very moment,
no one will finish what I set out
to say. What will you do then,
my misery?

— Selma Asotić / “Landscape with footprints in ash”