Provérbio Zen

A Zen teacher saw five of his students returning from the market, riding their bicycles. When they arrived at the monastery and had dismounted, the teacher asked the students, "Why are you riding your bicycles?"

The first student replied, "The bicycle is carrying the sack of potatoes. I am glad that I do not have to carry them on my back!" The teacher praised the first student, "You are a smart boy! When you grow old, you will not walk hunched over like I do."

The second student replied, "I love to watch the trees and fields pass by as I roll down the path!" The teacher commended the second student, "Your eyes are open, and you see the world."

The third student replied, "When I ride my bicycle, I am content to chant nam myoho renge kyo." The teacher gave praise to the third student, "Your mind will roll with the ease of a newly trued wheel."

The fourth student replied, "Riding my bicycle, I live in harmony with all sentient beings." The teacher was pleased, and said to the fourth student, "You are riding on the golden path of non-harming."

The fifth student replied, "I ride my bicycle to ride my bicycle." The teacher sat at the feet of the fifth student and said, "Ahh.... I am your student!"

Work is a crocodile in the river of desire.

UNI-VOS!

Comemoremos ...?!

Papai Noel Velho Batuta
Garotos Podres

Papai Noel filho da puta

Rejeita os miseráveis

Eu quero mata-lo

Aquele porco capitalista

Presenteia os ricos

E cospe nos pobres

Presenteia os ricos

E cospe nos pobres

Mas nos vamos sequestrá-lo

E vamos mata-lo

Por que?

Aqui não existe natal

Aqui não existe natal

Aqui não existe natal

Aqui não existe natal

Por que?

Papai Noel filho da puta

Rejeita os miseráveis

Eu quero mata-lo

Aquele porco capitalista

Presenteia os ricos

E cospe nos pobres

Presenteia os ricos

E cospe nos pobres

UNIÃO

Não é somente em Terras Brasilis que há o desrespeito ao ciclista, em Dublin, Irlanda, um bike courier fez um desabafo no blog http://www.dublinmessengers.blogspot.com/ relatando sua decisão de, pelo menos por enquanto, deixar de ser um profissional consciente, passando a ser mais um idiota na massa. Segue o post:



They finally beat me...

...after so long, and so much effort, they finally beat me. the conscientious courier died today. We hope to see him back in the New Year.

After so many years on the bike I have learned to keep myself calm; kinda hare and the tortoise stuff. Some couriers dash around as if their lives depended on the job, while at the same time putting their lives at risk. I used to be like that, but after a few years at it my attitude changed. 2 euro really isn't worth it any more...I've always tried to treat other road users like I wanted to be treated. I don't break the lights at dodgy junctions. I always give pedestrians the right of way when I'm breaking a safe junction. I indicate when I'm going to turn in front of a car. Generally I try to be as invisible as possible during the day. I may do a few less jobs than some other people, but i go home feeling like I haven't added to the bad reputation we already have.

But today I had enough. It's taken a few days, but finally I broke.It began last week when I noticed I was screaming the word 'cunt' at the top of my lungs far more frequently than I normally would, in fact far more than i think I ever have in my life! This came from numerous near misses from non-looking pedestrians, door-openings and 2 articulated lorries that didn't think i was traffic and turned at full speed in front of me. The thing that draws all these incidents together is that I had the right of way on all occassions, and the offenders were genuinely confused as to why I was getting upset.

So it continued through Thursday and Friday. And on Friday we forget everything. We have a few beers and laugh it all off. Sure they're the stories of the week. The near misses and close calls. But I'm sick of them.Sunday afternoon I was going to the cinema when a 'dude' stepped into the bike lane and knocked me into a car. My thigh took the wing mirror of the car. Adrenaline pumping, I leapt from the ground and confronted the guy, to be shouted down with 'that was your fault, that was your fault'. I tried to understand how it was my fault that he stepped from the path into the bike lane knoocking me off my bike, but really couldn't see his point of view. With this in mind I told him and the driver to stay put whie I phoned the police, as I wanted this prick to pay for the guys wingmirror. As soon as I started dialling, the asshole pedestrian and the driver both took off like wanted criminals! (So I went to see the Golden Compass anyway and was pretty disappointed, it was way too rushed). When I got out of the cinema I could barely bend my leg or ride home and subsuquently had to take 2 of the busiest days of the year off work to let it heal.Today... well nothing in particular today, but the usual catalogue that the conscientious courier goes through. Door-openings, cut-offs, people on phones... it goes on and on.Finally after lunch i couldn't take it any more, I decided that they had won. No matter how hard I've tried, I'm always wrong. Nobody notices the 100 times a day I stop to let people pass, swerve out of the way of their door, slow down to let them cross, they only notice that I'm in their way, that I'm holding them up, that I shouldn't be there.I'm used to being treated like shit as a courier, like I don't exist, like I'm invisble to receptionists, drivers and pedestrians alike, but somehow Christmas takes the biscuit and this year they've finally managed to grind me down.So this afternoon I became what they wanted me to be, what they expected me to be. Fuck them. The conscientious courier died. I didn't wait for pedestrians, I cut in front of cars and busses, I broke dangerous intersections, and I was angry. They'd won, they'd made me what I'd tried so hard not be; "that asshole courier with no respect''. And guess what? It wasn't fun. I finished work with a grimace and a weight on my shoulders. I don't like this person and I don't want to be this person.The only thing I can say for sure is that this is a christmas courier. A 'Bad Santa' kind of courier. I know he'll go away in the New Year and I'll be glad to see the back of him. but right now I don't know what else to do, he seems to be the only way of getting through this mess we call Christmas.

So beware, the conscientious courier has gone away now, and won't be back for a while. Right now I'm just another asshole.

Merry Christmas.

Poética descrição do prazer no caos!

O lendário Thiago disse: "No mais, é horrível pedalar às 18h na Paulista".

Horrível nada, eu sempre me divirto quando preciso ir a algum lugar nesse horário! :D

Tá, eu sei, às vezes é complicado passar em meio a tanto carro (e é aí que a gente vê como carro ocupa espaço, atrapalha e causa congestionamento). Mas eu acho divertidíssimo avançar, mesmo que lentamente, em meio a tantos carros parados, ficar caçando os pequenos espaços entre eles, passar por aquele sinal que está aberto mas ninguém consegue se mover, ultrapassar a 10km/h uma SUV monstruosa de mais de cem mil reais ou um carro esportivo que em um mundo de faz de conta alcançaria impressionantes 300km/h...

Isso deve ser algum sentimento ruim de vingança contra o automóvel, por ele ter me trancado nesses congestionamentos por anos. Mas não posso evitar... E esse sentimento me faz bem, chego sempre com um sorriso no rosto, pensando em quantos carros buzinando deixei para trás, em como me diverti móvel e livre em meio às imóveis celas individuais, em quanto tempo eu economizei por não estar dirigindo.

Nesses momentos lembro da tortura psicológica de estar preso em uma bolha em um congestionamento desses, aquele invólucro de metal parecendo um cofre, com as janelas fechadas para evitar o barulho e as pessoas, o medo de ser abordado por algum predador armado como se eu fosse uma caça amarrada e indefesa, os vidros escuros para me esconder desses predadores, o ar artificialmente climatizado entrando por pequenos respiradouros para que eu não corra riscos abrindo as janelas, a busca desesperada no rádio por alguma distração e algum conforto, uma ligação no celular para não me sentir tão solitário, tão isolado, tão preso, sem nem ao menos poder largar o carro no meio da rua e ir embora a pé...

Que Deus me permita continuar sempre a usar a bicicleta como meio de transporte, ou pelo menos um transporte público de qualidade razoável. O carro estava me deixando louco. Dirigir em São Paulo faz mal ao coração.

Quando passo de bicicleta pelos congestionamentos me sinto livre, me sinto leve, me sinto como se tivesse asas como as da bicicleta pintada pela Mona (e se eu me esforçar quase consigo sentir essas asas em mim), me sinto imune a essa doença da cidade (mesmo sabendo ser essa uma falsa sensação).

Me sinto vivo!

Willian Cruz
+ Vá de Bike +
http://freeride.blig.com.br

Wells and Wheels

"Everytime I see an adult on a bicycle, I no longer despair for the future of the human race." - H. G. Wells