Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet,
performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal
about town, feminist, freewheeler, and
friend. One day, she is going to be an
ideas curator. Which basically
means, she will tell you
exactly what she thinks.
Until then, you’ll have
to read between
the lines.
late night rolling and rambling
So, I’ve just come back from a lovely, late-night ride. (Aside: for those who’ve never tried it -do. It’s such a great feeling: no traffic, no crazy pedestrians, no nutsy commuters. Just long stretches of quiet and off-peak light sequencing. Don’t be tempted to stuff in your i-pod, just listen to the throat clearing of an old Landcruiser coming up behind, and revel in the silken chill of passing a park or a creek somewhere between where you live and nowhere in particular.)
But what, pray tell, was I doing out for a ride at this time of night?
Well may you ask.
I was, bizarrely, feeling motivated.
Someone mentioned that they were not seeing much “sausage” on this blog (her language not mine), so I scooted out to DISC to watch a little velodrome action in the search of suitable “sausage” in helmet. I was not disappointed. Look at that: 50% of Team Handsome. Who says cycling’s an unfriendly, lady-alienating sport?
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oh. my boyfriend the blog sausage. good times.
Just remember lady, you da sauce. Important to the mark the territory, there's some bike bitches out there who'd pop a tube for some of that sausage. (Actually, I'm aware that neither of you eat meat, so sorry for being so gross. And since when did I start referring to ladies as bitches? God. I've had too much sugar.)