Birthday Blues

Yesterday was my 23rd birthday. Here are some words I wrote in my notebook:

"It's the next 23 years of my life that will define my work, they will perhaps be the 23 most vibrant, engaged years of my life. How many 23-year cycles am I entitled to? Oh, near-quarter-life-crisis, I feel your hand's grip on my coronary artery, sucking the air from my lungs, forcing me to confront mortality's moonlike presence. 46 + 23 = 69 - maybe I'll make it. 23 after that? 92...umm...I don't know to even imagine that. When I consider my journey over the past year, the prospect of a new year enlivens me, 365 more days to step into a building whose general contour mark the only apparent quality. The insides of that building - the people, the rooms, the aches and joys, the love and hate, its essence, its innards - will be revealed as each second in the new year elapses. Last year this time I was in Milan, Italy. My sister had just married, I was with my parents and grandmother and mokour Karine and digin Janet. There was a job offer - to move to Armenia and overtake directing the Janapar Trail in the Nagorno Karabagh Republic (http://www.janapar.org/wiki/Main_Page), but ultimately that fell through because job funding was lost. On October 10, 2008, the last place I expected to end up was in San Francisco with a different, equally special Karin, and I truly wonder where I will be October 10, 2010. That would be 10/10/2010; the alignment of numbers terrifies me. There's a numerical significance to it that I can't yet wrap my mind around. Dread morphs into excitement when I zoom in to focus on one year increments, morphed back into dread when I zoom out to analyze greater structures of chronology, narrative, life. Some live in the past, some in the present, some in the future. I strive for balance, aware that there are people in my life who cause me to analyze one aspect more than the other, further aware that a special few help me find that balance. I have many goals before reaching 24 - they involve a book I hand wrote in Lebanon that I'm still typing up, a huge pile of poetry I'm still editing, a new screenplay, musical dreams - there is a key to this, a realization Karin made that is alarmingly true. Later is now. No more saying "I'll do it later." This implies a promised future. If there's something I feel I need to do, I do it now. Later is now. If I had to guess where I'll be next year, it's either San Francisco, Los Angeles, or New York. I have some notions of circumstance, but dare not speak them. Not yet.

New Project: Peace Bullets

Wow, I feel so neglectful for not posting for almost two months. Amot indz.
I live in San Francisco now and have an AWESOME room in the Lower Haight neighborhood. I've never lived somewhere so beautiful and inspiring - a neighborhood brimming with art and ideas and energy - love it.

At Burning Man, which I realize I need to write posts about, I went on a day trip expedition thirty miles away from the festival into the desert where we saw the Black Rock, once an economic center for Indian traders (I wrote a poem called "Artifiction" about this experience). A few miles up were mini-playas which are essentially mini-deserts inside of mountains. In them I found lots and lots of bullets that I collected and later decided to shape them into a PEACE symbol. Below is a photo of the formation. My plan is to put the bullets on a canvas (or maybe pierce it) with a poem about peace/war written in many lanuages on the canvas. Then throw some red paint on it. When it's done I'll have pics, but for now, enjoy a photo of it at its infantile state.


There it is on the corner of the table from a distance. That's my new decoupage table, by the way. More on that later.



Close up. Bullets are soooo dusty and old and different shapes and sizes - the central one was from a shotgun, I don't know about the others.

USSA

I'm sure many will disagree with these thoughts, but I just want to say that I am absolutely baffled by the way Americans have demonized socialism. Literally I feel like we're living in 1950's America and the socialism-paranoia is reaching McCarthy-esque levels of absurdity.

How exactly does socialism threaten America? How can providing everyone with health care harm democracy? Or is it capitalism? A public option wouldn't mandate anyone to leave their private insurers behind. If anything, it would improve competition and care (what ardent capitalists value), kind of like the competition between UPS, FedEx, and USPS. Why can't we think of democracy and socialism working together to foster better forms of governance? Must we insist that they remain mutually exclusive?
And how does this tie into a common American fear of Russian strength and civilization?

I feel like this is a lost cause in America. Socialism has been stigmatized to a point of no return, and our national political discourse doesn't examine it enough for the populace to re-examine misconceptions and identify how major media outlets have propagandized our minds and minimized our ability to think creatively about governance, civilization, and how it connects to modern and ancient history, recent trends in geopolitics, and the stifling superiority complex that clouds our ability to connect with unconventional religion & spirituality, politics, and ways of life.

Universal health care for all! Coverage for all! When a dangerously ill individual primarily feels fear when approaching treatment options because they worry over inability to afford care, then we simply need to establish opportunities for the sick to feel confidence, support, and assurance that they will be taken care of. As my dad always says, health is number one. Without it, you have nothing. So why not allow the government to offer the OPTION (not a mandate) to cover those who need it? Even universal coverage wouldn't hurt, but now I flirt with socialism and will ruffle too many feathers.

Is it feasible: a United Socialist States of America? Never in name. But strands of socialism can uphold our capitalist democracy. Look no further than the VA.

Paul Sprawl

I don't make this distinction often, but I have encountered what appears to be the "BEST" guitarist I've ever seen. Paul Sprawl uses open tunings and percussive playing to present an entirely unique style of thought-provoking lyrics whose critique of mass media, irresponsible governance, and the journey of spirit quests demonstrate how a performance should do far more than entertain. Below is a video I took of a private performance he gave to our cycling team in Paonia, Colorado's Methodist Church. The song is called "Sunset Train". Learn more about him at http://www.myspace.com/paulsprawlmusic




A brief note on meeting Paul. A number of riders headed towards "downtown Paonia", ie Main St., to visit bars and the kind of antics you wouldn't necessarily put on your resume. I lagged behind as I wrote postcards and read the Newsweek sent to me by my 4k06 teammate Katie Young. Finally I traversed the two epic blocks to Main St., and on my way to the bar I passed a space called The Blue Sage, a performance art space. Inside was a performance hall with about 80 seats sadly filled with just 5 audience members. But they were all enamored as I gleefully joined them in watching a multi-media show combining war footage with the words blogged by Iraqi women followed by beautiful interpretive dance by Paul's wife, Leera Lee, followed by Paul's hypnotic picking. After the performance ended we conversed with the performers and I had a chance to speak more with Paul and his wife. I told Paul about our trip and invited him to perform for us, and he bestowed upon me his handy-dandy instructional DVD detailing his percussive technique.

After some youtube-ing, I dug up a FULL performance of Paul playing what now seems to be my favorite song of his, "Sunset Train".

Colorado Madness

Colorado is by far one of my favorite states to cycle through. There's a reason the sign welcomes visitors and residents to "Colorful Colorado". The Rockies are spectacular. Landscapes cover the gamut - from arid deserts to snow-capped peaks. Towns are just as diverse as the ecosystems - hippy villages on top of mountains (like Ward below), big cities, medium-sized towns filled with Olympians or Coalminers or Tourists. This post shows some of this state's splendor.




The "hippy village" of Ward where Jack Kerouac and his fellow beatpals got snowed in and wrote "mind expanding" verse. To get from Boulder to Estes Park we have to climb a 17-mile mountain on Lefthand Canyon Drive. Ward sits at the top of the climb, population 150. This is a shot of "downtown" taken from the Utica Street Market where you'll find the best cookies you've ever tasted.





Double rainbow! This is our 4k09 group in Wiggins a day before entering the Rockies. If you look closely at the first row you'll notice some of us revisiting poses used to enrapture cameras back in the days of elemntary school.



Sitting in Ward at the Utica Street Market, this is a photo of Officer Anne's shades.


Bike trail out of Glenwood Springs with a colossal mountain perched in the horizon.


In Benkelman, Nebraska (yeah, it's not Colorado, but it's pretty close), I discovered that one of the essential characteristics of manliness is the ability to drive a pick-up truck. This is me in a wife-beater flaunting my manhood.


Those are the Rockies about 20 miles away.


Elk spotting during the descent of Trail Ride Road, America's highest paved rd (about 12,000 ft above sea level) that runs through Rocky Mountain National Park.



Paonia, Colorado is a hidden gem of hippies, coalmiers, and retirees. Several thrift stores boast impressive hat collections. Here, Tom and I model our respective "Baker Boy" and "Toro" hats. We're posing with other great hats, including "Bass Club", "No Sweat! No Sweat! No Sweat! No Sweat! No Sweat! No Sweat!", and "Magnatude". Note the marvelous collection of pre-historic tennis and raquetball rackets hanging above our heads.


Circle-D is a supermarket in Grand Lake, Colorado that donated $371 worth of groceries to our team. These are the two shopping carts we filled beyond capacity.

Abortion causes breast cancer?

We cycled by this sign in Kansas. I must have been to focused on the horizon because I failed to see it and take a photo, so I just took a photo of my friend's photo. Double photo action - whoah! That means if you took a photo of the photo below, that would be triple photo action, and a photo of that would quadruple the fun, and so on... So does anybody care to explain the logic behind the proclamation below?

Church Sign

Can somebody please explain this sign to me?

Misadventures in Michigan City

These photographs and videos from Michigan City, Indiana should speak volumes about this town and our cycling group's experience there.



We found this placard in a closet at the rectory of the church that hosted us. Please read it. Toss reason out the window for this one.


The church's opulent dining hall.



The sun setting over Lake Michigan, Chicago deep in the distance.


Those are bodies. I'm the green one on the left side of the 4.


Dunes.



This hill is huge. Look at the tiny people at the bottom. Halfway through the video, the great genius Stephanie decides to run as fast as possible down the hill. Chaos ensues.

Shipshewanna & Josephine

Installment 1: Shipshewanna

Somewhere along the road in Indiana. Three states in one day - Ohio, Michigan, Indiana. It sounds more impressive than the reality. Flat terrain. Obnoxious semis. Corn fields.

Around the 15th mile I sat at the front of my group signaling the left turn we had to take when I heard a scream. You might have called it a shriek. A yelp of excitement.

I turned around and saw a semi approaching the three girls behind me. And something behind that. Something small. Something running with all of its fury. Its speed was surprising.

"Oh my god oh my god." The girls screamed for me. I heard the semi breaking, that staccato exhale from the engine loud enough to remind you just how easily it could smother your existence with a single bump.

Me & Shippy

There was a kitty in the road. I biked up to it and it ran towards me, right into my hands. He shook and shook. We just stood there for a while, giving the orphan love. Then we walked it to the nearest home, Dorothy Shepherd's, and handed it off. Diana named it Shipshewanna after the town in Indiana whose name enamored her.

I called Dorothy a few days later to confirm that ol' Shippy now had a happy new home. It's living in a barn, Dorothy told me, with two horses, a mule, and it eats like a hog. "Ol' Shippy's getting fat," Dorothy boasted.


Dorothy & Shippy

Installment 2: Josephine

Mile 78 during our 115 mile day into Jacksonville, Illinois. Saw a lot of road kill that day. Turtle stew. Squashed squirrel. Possum brains. Snake innards. Everyday really, but you remember the road kill on days you nearly kill an animal yourself.

We had just left a water stop and passed three flattened ducklings in the middle of the road when Tom out in front spotted the lone surviving baby running for dear life into a field. I don't know why, but we decided it would be a good idea to catch it, dote over it, and eventually enact a rescue.


Tom & Josephine

The duckling was shaking, like ol' Shippy. The video below shows the epic capturing of the duckling. We put it in the back of Tom's jersey and transported it to our next water stop where Josephine, the feminine version of a Joey (baby Kangaroos inside of their mama's pouch), was placed inside of a box until animal rescue was called and saved that cute ducky.

This video depicts the rescue of Josephine and the unfortunate fate of his brother and sister.

Day 4 Blog Post

Day 4: Bedford, PA to Butler, PA

‘Twas cold. ‘Twas wet. ‘Twas the kind of rain-cold assault that makes one’s teeth chatter, knees buckle, will deflate.

But the day had started like many others in 4k lore. We spent the night at the YMCA of Greensburg, PA, an impressive three story structure complete with a gym, locker rooms, fitness rooms, offices, a childcare center, and an emergency youth shelter. Like many years past, the 4k was given the entire third floor – complete with pool table, Sound of Music VHS, and stunning vistas of downtown Greensburg – to relax and sleep.

The childcare center a floor below invited us for breakfast that morning. Before entering, we dawned our thinking caps knowing that the incisive philosophical ruminations of the toddlers would challenge our assumptions about consciousness. With bananas and cheerios consumed, the discussions began.

4k’er: Why are stickers called stickers?

Philosopher-Child of Greensburg: Because they’re sticky.

4k’er: Why are they sticky?

Philosopher-Child of Greensburg: Because they’re stickers!

Astounding, I thought. They must have some sticker-related super brain powers. Envious, I put a banana sticker on my forehead before the ride in hopes of boosting my intellectual prowess. And soon I would be put to the test.

Tom, our director with hair far longer than necessary, had recently put me in charge of organizing our snack and lunch foods into separate bins. The driver of the day before, Kristine “The First Test Tube Baby In The World” Casey, had scored mountains of ham sandwiches from Wallet’s, an establishment that boasted such customers as Pittsburgh Steelers quarterback Ben Roethlisberger. Smell inspections revealed that the sandwiches needed to go. I don’t like to toss food out before trying to give it away, so I took to the streets of Greensburg looking for takers. I waved down a taxi and before I could offer him the meat, he asked for the purpose behind all these spandex-laden people clomping around their town. I told him about the 4k, and he told me about the many cycling treks he had undertaken, including a cross-country ride many years back, and a recent tour around ten countries in Europe. He directed me to his blog which I highly recommend, http://cyclingsimmons.blogspot.com/.

The rain began early that morning and would not relent for a moment. Our route took us around Pittsburgh towards Butler, PA where we found a painful lack of back roads. At one point we accidently found ourselves on an interstate going through a narrow two-lane tunnels. Cars zoomed by as we did our best to avoid getting side-swiped or just plain squished.

Then silence. I looked around and noticed all the cars had vanished. Was it some sort of divine sign? A symbol from above? It was. We saw flashing lights and a man in a neon-orange vest stepped out of an oversized pick-up and told us they had shut down the tunnel to traffic because cyclists are not allowed inside. We threw our road hogs on the back of the truck and were dropped off in town where we adjusted our route and pedaled on.

Like I said, the rain was relentless. We were sopping wet by this point and had hit our final 30 mile stretch for the day on a road infested with angst-ridden drivers in a rush to a place that was clearly important enough for them to justify rolling their windows down to show which of their fingers best expressed how they felt about us.


Fifteen miles away from our destination, the elements had overpowered one of our riders. We pulled into the parking lot of the Two-Bit Tavern and waited under an awning for our support van. As cold as we were, getting off the bicycle only made us colder as our muscles stiffened and energy declined.

While we stood shivering, a woman pulled over and rolled down her window. She had an uncanny resemblance to one of the riders on my team that day, Rebecca. “Are you Rebecca’s mom,” I asked.

“No,” she answered. “But it looks like you guys could use some help.”

We would learn her name was Stef Scarlett, that she had Multiple Sclerosis, and that she insisted we sit in her heated car to warm up while we waited for the van to arrive. We learned many things about Stef, that this wasn’t the first time she offered to help cyclists caught on the unpleasant roads just outside of Pittsburgh on a rainy day; that she fought the debilitating symptoms of her condition to help others too weak to access their medications alone; that she had an incredibly positive outlook on life; that her nurturing demeanor immediately comforted us from the traumas of an unpleasant day on the road; that her generosity and attitude inspired us more than she can understand.

Here we are with Stef after the ride.

I stepped out of the car to run into the tavern’s restroom. The looks I got on my way out clearly indicated that these bar-goers rarely saw cyclists run into their establishment. “Where you going,” one man asked.

“San Francisco.”

He asked me why. I told him about our mission. He collected the money he had put out on the counter and handed it to me. “My wife died of lung cancer two years ago. Remember her.”

The woman next to him turned and spoke. “I lost my father to melanoma.”

These were the words that got our team through the next 15 miles into Butler where the rain fell harder and cold blew more than earlier that day. Stef offered to drive behind us for the remainder of the route with her car hazards on to deter impatient motorists from speeding up to us and laying on their horns. Her generosity and patience with us was inexplicable and affirmed to me that there are still great people in this world. I will remember her fondly as the challenges on this ride grow.

There's Stef in her car blocking traffic for us!

Thank you, Stef.

WKYC Coverage of the 4k for Cancer in Cleveland

Riding on the 4k for Cancer a second time was the best possible decision I could have made. A local NBC news affiliate covered our team rolling into Cleveland yesterday. Check out the article below!

College students off and pumping on 4,000-mile bike trip
CLEVELAND -- A group of 27 cyclists rolled into Cleveland Friday night. Four hundred miles down. Only 3,600 miles to go in their trip across America.

The cyclists, ranging in age from 18 to 23 years, will spend the next two months on the road raising money and awareness about cancer.

It's the ninth year for the 4K For Cancer ride which was started by a student at Johns Hopkins University to honor his father who died of cancer.

"It's hard to think of anybody who hasn't been affected (by cancer)," said Raffi Wartanian. "You're constantly meeting people who were affected and they're telling you their story.
"And you put that on your shoulders and use that to get up the mountains and through the rain," said Wartanian, who is partipating in his second 4K For Cancer ride.

Each of the cyclists raised at least $4,000. The group hopes to donate $110,000 dollars to the Hope Lodge in Baltimore and to cancer research.

Two vans carrying sleeping bags, clothes and donated food accompany the cyclists.
The cyclists rely on churches, YMCA's and community centers for food and lodging.
Cyclist Nicole Pangborn, a pre-med student at Johns Hopkins University, has found motivation and inspiration from the people she's met during the trip.

"We rely completely on donations for lunch and lodging and food for dinner," said Pangborn. "It's like we really don't buy anything. And we go across the country.

"A lot of us haven't encountered that type of generosity," said Pangborn. "It's just unbelievable that people give everything to us because we're doing something for the greater good."
© 2009 WKYC-TV

Here's a pic of us getting ready to caravan into the Case campus in Cleveland.

Anticipation

I can't sleep.  Five days to go.  Four thousand miles.  Two months.  Aching muscles.  Incredible sensations.  Pedaling and pedaling and pedaling and pedaling and pedaling.  Avoiding road debris and squashed animals, or moving animals - cows, snakes, squirrels, turtles.  External expectations escaped.  A thriving cocoon constantly on the go.  The greatest escape imaginable into the essence of reality.  Impossible to explain, yet so vivid.  I can't wait to go.  I can't wait to sleep.  I can't wait.  

ted talk

Fundraising Videos

The past 3 months or so have been spent trying to raise $4000 for cancer research, prevention outreach, and patient care.  I did it once before in 2006 with lots of fancy fundraising letters, but this time I decided to only use facebook and ask for small donations.  I'm close to my goal, about $500 shy, but am thrilled by the knowledge that tweaking my method has brought in over 145 contributors from Brazil, Israel, Syria, Denmark, France, Spain, Italy, Canada, and the ol' US of A.  A big part of this process has been making ridiculous fundraising videos...

Across America take 5

A church in Michigan City, Indiana explaining five reasons to tithe.  Until seeing this poster, I thought "tithing" strictly belonged to vocabularies prior to the 16th century.  It turns out tithes are in, and my vocabulary needs a serious updating.  

This is the 5th installment in a series of photos taken from a 2006 bicycle trip across America to raise funds, spread awareness, and foster hope in the fight against cancer.  I am riding again this summer.  Each rider has pledged to raise $4000 to donate to the American Cancer Society's Baltimore Hope Lodge, a free residence for patients receiving cancer treatment in the Baltimore area.  We also donate to the outreach and research divisions of the Sydney Kymmel Comprehensive Cancer CEnter at the Johns Hopkins Hospital.

Please consider making a $10 donation.  If you can only afford less, then that is totally cool - EVERY PENNY COUNTS!  You can make a contribution by clicking the "Donate Here" link of my fundraising page at: http://sites.google.com/a/4kforcancer.org/rider-fundraising/riderfundraising/raffi-wartanian

Leave a comment if you have any questions or stories you want to share.

Thanks!