Sunday, July 25, 2004

Mistaken Identity

The yardhog was doing his normal Sunday bike ride on River Road this morning when he noticed a number of other cyclists passing him at a great rate of speed. Several of them were wearing bathing suits. And some gave him high five signs as they passed and yelled things like "Isn't this Great!"  and "Come on you can make it!"
     Turns out the Hog had been mistaken for one of the participants in today's River City Triathlon. The bikers who had passed him were in the process of finishing a 20 mile ride to Prospect that had been preceded by a quick swim across the Ohio River. The final leg of their tour was a foot race.

Friday, July 23, 2004

Flying Home

Yardhog is going through some serious chemical changes. Tittering on the precipice of a panic attack. Too much pent up energy and no immediate outlets. It will pass.
Illinois Jacquet the great tenor saxophonist died of a heart attack in his home in New York yesterday. He was 81 years old and had been leading a band nearly up until the end. He was mostly known for his famous boisterous solo on "Flying Home" with the Lionel Hampton Orchestra. The song was a national hit and Jacquet was forced to play it almost every night with the Hampton Band. According to the article this morning that's what made him leave the Hampton Orchestra two years later claiming physical exhaustion. He said later in an interview. "I had to quit. Hamp was getting rich and I was dying." Jacquet and drummer Joe Jones had trio with my friend organist/pianist Milt Buckner in the 1970s. Milt died around 1975, lugging his Hammond B3 organ down the steps of Joe Segal's Jazzshowcase in Chicago, but Jacquet seemed to go on and on. According the obituary this morning he was born in Louisiana, the son of an American Indian mother and a French Creole father. Can you think of a better lineage for a jazz musician? Heard about his death this morning after hearing him on a 1956 recording with Ben Webster entitled "The Kid and the Brute" they were playing on WNOZ New Orleans radio. Jacquet was one of the last great Texas tenors that included the likes of Arnette Cobb and Buddy Tate. Ain't none of them left now.
     Got an email the other day from the president of the Louisville Bicycle Club. The young man I saw in the accident Monday night is apparently doing okay. He broke several bones in his arms and hand. Thanks to the gods.

Tuesday, July 20, 2004


2004-07-20 12:41:51</logtime>

Horrible incident last night in Seneca Park during my bike ride. I was coming back from Big Rock and had just made the turn off of Pee Wee Reese Lane when a large group of bikers (probably the Louisville Wheelmen) streaked past me. I was anticipating a few stragglers coming up from back when I heard a loud thud. When I turned around there was a young bicyclist lying in the middle of the road bloody in a ball moaning loudly and complaining he had no feeling in his legs. People were already gathered around him offering aid. He evidently turned directly into a car coming in the opposite direction. The car, which was driven by a woman, and the cyclist hit head on. There was no screeching of tires. The lady  didn't have time to brake and he took the full impact. In recent months there have been several cyclists struck in that same area of the park. And plans are currently under way to change the traffic pattern there.
     One of the dangers of riding in large groups is that some less experienced  riders have trouble keeping up with the pace and often take unnecessary chances that can cause serious accidents. In any case, it was the worst accident I've seen in ten years of bike riding and I'm still in shock.

Monday, July 19, 2004

Bird Brain

Yesterday, a backyard phantasmagorical bonanza of birds. Finches , flycatchers, robins, cardinals, hairy woodpeckers, doves, gold finches etc, etc.
     48 miles on bike last week despite five day power black out. Beautiful cool summer weather.

Thursday, July 15, 2004


The most violent weather to hit the  Louisville area since 1974 has thrown the Hog off a bit in the last few days. Tuesday night a severe thunderstorm with hurricane force 75 plus winds knocked all our power out for the last two days but thankfully didn't cause any house or tree damage. According to the morning paper all this severe weather is due to an unusual weather pattern that has the Midwest locked into a type of severe weather cycle we normally only experience during the spring. Unfortunately they predict more is yet to come.

Monday, July 12, 2004


Sixty two miles covered on my bike last week. Yesterday a 32 mile ride along the river from Cox Park to Portland. All before the blazing hot weather began in the afternoon. Summer is here.

Friday, July 9, 2004

A Poem For D

Religion is That I Love You

As time will turn our bodies straight
In single sleep, the hunger fed, heart broken
Like a bottle used by thieves

Beloved, as so late our mouths meet, leaning
Our faces close, eyes closed
Out there

     outside this window where branches toss
     in soft wind, where birds move sudden wings
Within this lame air, love, we are dying

Let us watch that sleep come, put our fingers
Through the breath falling from us

Living, we can love though dying comes near
It is its desperate singing that we must not hear

It is that we cling together, not dying near each other now.
                                Kenneth Patchen

Cafe Lou Lou

Setting in Cafe Lou Lou last night with D when we were suddenly approached by a local singer/poet who was outraged that the new restaurant's sign had replaced the old "Black Cat" logo on the awning.
"I'll never eat in this restaurant again," he yelled storming out the door. What a DRAMA QUEEN! I think the real reason for his outrage lies in the fact that the old restaurant featured live music six nights a week while the new place has a no entertainment policy except when local madmen like the fore-mentioned musician decide to provide an impromptu floor show.


The Stars Go to Sleep so Peacefully

The stars go to sleep so peacefully...
Their high gentle eyes closing the white flowers
In a child's dream of paradise.

With the morning, in house after grim house,
In a haze of money, proper to kiss kiss their war,
These noble little fools awake.

O the soul of the world is dead...
Truth rots in a bloody ditch;
And love is impaled on a million bayonets

But great God! the stars go to sleep so peacefully

                                 Kenneth Patchen

Tuesday, July 6, 2004


A couple of bike riding images from the last two days. Six young girls exercising atop large balls inside a shelter in Cherokee Park. Strange sight at 8 in the morning.
     A lone, ancient, shaggy dog limping on one foot on River Road walking toward downtown.
     Cox Park strewn with morning after 4th of July firework trash.
     Slum: Carny word for cheap trinkets won at booths.

Friday, July 2, 2004


"My sympathy is always with the shark. At least the shark is sincere and honest with his intentions, whereas Homo Sap conceals himself behind veils of evasion, as he or she dances an unsightly can-can...
     Someone long ago starts singing this:
     "Temperature's rising, it isn't surprising, she certainly can Can-Can."
                                               William Burroughs
                                               "Last Words"

Thursday, July 1, 2004


Another great 10 mile ride in Cherokee Park last night. It's wonderful how it stays light until after 9 p.m. this time of year. I feel as though I want to soak up all the elements in the air. Riding in the evening my skin feels soaked in the soup of  life. Not sitting encapsulated in a air conditioned house or automobile but out in the air with the birds, bugs and bees. FULLY ALIVE!     Just had a wonderful compliment from a fellow office worker. He said some of the women in the office were raving about an attractive UPS delivery man. The women said they bet all the men in the office were envious of this guy. He told them "I bet Danny's not envious."
HOW DID HE KNOW? luv, yardhog