Truth in Advertising

The name says it all!! I can hear Bess Myerson applauding from her grave. "See someone listened to me" she's yelling in that voice only the dead can make. Biggins - one of the oldest titty bars (read that "oldest" then "titty bars" - not "oldest titty" then "bars" - OK? Although ... but as you might guess I have never been in so I have no first hand experience - opppsss that didn't sound right either - oh well) in town. Even the city's light fixture seems to dangle breast-like in proximity to it. Remember tonight well, gentlemen. As Simon and Garfunkel said "Reserve you mammaries. They're all that's left you."

Oh, and there are "APPS for dancers" - does iTunes know? Well, if you take the 'w' out of Twitter... then there's an app for that!

Well, I had my reminder tonight that Bike Week isn't what it use to be. Must be the economy. When your motorcycle costs more that the family minivan, you have to make a choice. Seemed like a younger crowd (or was it just an older photographer?) Don't get me wrong. There are still lots of bikes here. But most were parked in motel parking lots by 11pm. Poopers - not enough drugs, booze, sex and rock and roll to keep you awake? I guess when you are a biker for a week and dentist for 51 weeks, it is hard to live up to the image. In the past bikers were bikers all the time.

Time Trials: Faust At Bike Week
"As if it takes a week!
One moment, the right one, is enough."
One image be the alchemy that turns
a track, a tunnel, a road into a singular space.
"God, here you are."
And time stands still.

In this space, fast is essential.
Knowledge is the devil's cycle.
(What an assembly of parts!
The object is important, of course, but also
how it becomes art, bigger than itself.
If leather smells of leather - good.
But if leather also smells of human oils and esters,
of the soaps to make it supple, loose and just that slick;
then there are endless parts
to manipulate in the head.)

In this space, calculations align perfection.
Invention is the devil's mechanic.
(He's the handyman who comes with his tools ready
to check the contacts, the starter, the stroke,
working in the thick grease, setting the timing,
roughly, swiftly buffing the finish.)

In this space, the event is crucial.
Notoriety is the devil's trophy.
Arresting moments solicit gasps in near-voice,
"Here, stop here! Stay before me,
in the fumes and growls of your machine."

The devil bloods this fatal pause
and snaps his binding circlet round.
So, flat out, the circuit traced
'til his stiff wager is claimed.

"God, here you are."
Exhausted, on empty, idle, overtaken, lead gone.
Time accelerates, passes and speeds on!