I was a jackanapes (redux)

in Sevastopol when sloth consumed me.
Now I’m fagged on a stack
of lighted pyre — the funeral
in progress. I was the son of violence,
and as begets one so highly skilled —
I’m a gun-licker & barrel-blower
who shot off his own nose.
My vengeance paid back
in towers of flame.
A jackanapes no
mo’.

Community College Tour?

One of PTNY’s directors elliptically joked this morning that we’re doing a tour community colleges — which in essence is true because 4 of the 5 nights in this tour are being hosted by Community College campuses — the other night we’re staying at a State Park. Whatever it is we spent our day today mostly on the Albany-Hudson Electric Trail and the rest going through the small towns of Nassau, Valatie, Kinderhook, Stuyvesant, and Hudson. 

Here are some of the highlights:

Coming back into Albany from across the river in Troy, NY. The tall buildings of the capital complex dominate the skyline.

A quiet moment at Nassau Lake, Nassau, NY.

The first rest stop of the day about 21 miles in to the ride. Nassau, NY.

The Albany-Hudson Electric Line Trail enroute to Kinderhook, NY. Valatie Kill, NY.

Good food and baked goods at Filli’s Jersey Bakery. Valatie, NY.

Valatie Kill means “little falls stream” in old Dutch. Valatie, NY.

Riding through cornfields in . . . 

. . . Kinderhook, NY.

Stuyvesant Falls in Stuyvesant, NY.

The Taiga Restaurant in Hudson, NY.

Just a bit of the cool funkiness in Hudson, NY.

Our second rest stop was 45 miles into the ride, only 4 miles from our camp for the night. And it was right in front of . . .

. . . the Hudson Brewery, which was significantly busier. Hudson, NY.

Once at camp — Columbia Greene Community College — it’s all about finding your luggage truck . . . 

. . . and staking out your camping spot. Columbia Greene Community College. Hudson, NY.

Then it’s dinner, checking out the night’s entertainment (Chris Huff), and winding down. And ride again tomorrow.

Day 1:

Start: Troy, NY
Finish: Hudson, NY
Miles: 52.2 miles

What I’m Reading:

I mistake the sound of a recycling cart
hitting the curb

for the latch of our gate
and picture him instantly:

my father stumbling
into the light of the backyard

to shoot himself.

— Bobby Elliott / “Mondegreen”