Tuesday, January 19, 2016

State of The Blog

Ever realize something that seems profound and stop to wonder if other people just know it instinctively?  Makes you a little reticent to speak for fear of coming across like the village idiot.  Kind of like finding a big booger hanging out of your nose and then stopping to wonder how many people saw it without telling you.

Writing a blog is a lot like that, (no, not a big booger), but the former, considering if this babble is just, well..., babble.  Or is the ego correct and there might be something of import to impart?  In many ways it doesn't really matter, posting on the internet is much like talking to yourself, except the trolls replying aren't in your head anymore.  Doesn't make them any less imaginary.

While fear of floating a few turds on the septic sea of the internet is minimal, what with the stink already so great, it is there.  I've tried to keep honest and bullshit free and mostly motorcycle related, tried not to be too wordy or send everybody running for a dictionary every fourth word to convince you how wicked smart (please read with Boston accent) I am.  Attempts (many failed) have been made to avoid being poetic, flowery, or philosophical.  Other than the occasional grammar/spelling error, I do not go back and re-edit my work, or remove it.  I don't use a lot of vulgar language, because that shit gets fucking old, but I don't have a kiddie-safe version for you either.  I've learned not to write everything I think, perhaps the hardest part of writing to become proficient with.

According to site traffic statistics, Speed of Arrival is wildly popular among Turkish hackers and most seem to be referred here from Yugoslavian gay porn and Russian meat cooking sites.  Interesting demographics to be sure.  That leaves the rest of you, hopefully with at least some passing interest in riding motorcycles.

Because that's what it really is about, riding.  It was suggested to me by a motorcycle magazine submissions department to avoid talking about how I feel when riding/racing.  I'm sure in some ways this is akin to preaching to the choir, but sometimes, doesn't the choir want to be preached to?  Isn't that what brought them there in the first place?  The whole reason I ride is for the feeling I get from doing so, take that away and you get what?  Glossy, ad-filled sales brochures with droll stories that wouldn't offend anyone.  Or enlighten them for that matter.

So I will continue writing this blog, where it doesn't matter how commercially viable the words are.  If you stumble across Speed of Arrival and think it reeks a little less than the rest of the shit around here, let me know.

Thanks for reading.

Kris Larrivee

Riding a machine from the last century at the dawn of the new millennium.
1971 Suzuki Titan
Shannonville, 2001 

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