Author Archives: james

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About james

hoyden will follow the free tendencies of desire hoyden is a pill dropped in a glass of water hoyden is an illusion on a surface of memory hoyden is a finger resting on the controls of a broken machine hoyden turns as she pleases toward all horizons hoyden is perfect sadism, at least as a method hoyden is a beautiful chimera hoyden crouches to intercept shadows hoyden is not in the habit of saluting the dead hoyden will always find buyers hoyden is at most a thinking reed hoyden writes sad and ardent love letters hoyden is a door someone opened hoyden is a dark intention hoyden never waits for itself hoyden leaves an exquisite corpse

we’re all mad here*

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You can tell by the amount of pithy sayings about motorcyclists that we are a little off-kilter from those who don’t ride. Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night** will keep a motorcyclist from riding when they feel the call of the road.

It’s really not very cold today but as I started to get some gear on for a little toodle after work, I thought, “It’s a bit chilly. I should bundle up.”
So, bundle I did.
However, it’s hard to hide from all of the wind chill. But I didn’t care. It’s a lovely day and I was on my bike. Sure, it ‘feels like’ 47° out, but that’s almost 50° and that’s almost balmy. Never mind the cold air blowing down my coat like a TourMaster ram air intake, it was great to be out on the road.

So, bring it on, Winter!
You won’t dampen my motorcycle spirit!
I’ve ridden in Chicago snowstorms, I’m not afraid!

(that said, I prefer 80’s and sunny)

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* Said the Cheshire cat.
** Unabashedly grifted from the Postal Service creed.
Of course, they stole it from Herodotus.
It is true, there is nothing new under the sun. wink

o

flying

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One of the things I loved about flying in airplanes when I was a kid were the clouds.
I would press my face to the window and dream.

In my child-world there were fairies who danced on the clouds. This was their home.
I could climb out of the window and frolic on the white puffs with them. The clouds easily supported our miniscule weight and we could clamber around the cumulus towers and play hide-and-seek in the billows.

Somewhere along the line I lost touch with my fairies.
I also stopped enjoying flying on airplanes.
I am not sure if my loss of the fairies and my dislike of flying coincided, but I would hazard a guess that they were. Perhaps I need my friends in the clouds.

For the past few years, I’ve been taking night flights. This last time I took a trip on an airplane, the flight left mid-afternoon. I was able to press my face to the window.
I wondered if my fairy friends were frolicking in the clouds far away.

I imagined that they were having a merry time out there.

It was a lovely flight.

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