Monday, March 9, 2026

Make It

 So the 'busa has been off the road again for the last little while; I learned three (3) painful lessons the hard way cruising down Fairbairn Ave at 2AM on my way home that night: 

1. Possums are solid little bastards;
2. When they decide to commit suicide-by-hyperbike they act like a Pete-seeking missile; and
3. Aftermarket ABS fairings are brittle as fuck. 

There was no sign of the little fucker when I went back the next day to pick up the pieces of my shattered left-side fairing, but there was enough of it stuck to the bottom of my left fork and oil-cooler that I reckon one of the local foxes got a free meal at the cost of Gideon's not-quite-month-old party frock. The oil-cooler took enough of a knock that it was spraying a fine mist of oil, and the possum got to take my left foot-peg with it to Valhalla. Fortunately JB Weld Cold Weld Epoxy is both oil, and heat resistant and seems to have sealed the cracks nicely, and I had a spare left peg from the pair I bought after the last crash. The fairings, on the other hand... 

I've spent the last month arduously gluing a piece back on, waiting for the epoxy the cure, then gluing down the next one, adding nylon fabric to the rear-surface for reinforcement where it looked necessary, then sanding back, levelling, priming, sanding, priming, filling, sanding, priming, and preparing. I finally got it to a point where I felt it was ready to take colour, so have laid down 3 x coats of the Metallic Blue I found quite fetching, then 5 x coats of 2K Clear Coat. I'll need to leave that for a few days to cure before I mask it off and do the lower section in Matte Black, so whilst I wait I have some time to kill. 

Workshop Music: Faderhead - Destroy Improve Rebuild

When not riding motorcycles at silly speeds, applying for jobs, riding motorcycles with reckless abandon, having emotionally-loaded encounters with my Ex, riding motorcycles at 2 in the morning, and sending possums to Sto'Vo'Kor, I've been putting a lot of time and energy into Making Things. It used to be that my focus was Fixing Things, but I got through my backlog a while ago. If doing the same old shit was going to get me anywhere I figure it would have ages ago, so in the interests of switching things up it was time for a bit of creation; I'm still recognisably 'me' tho, so my preferred building materials are still Broken Things, with a bit of productive destruction thrown in for fun. 

Like the mirror I made out of the tempered glass front of the old watch winder I finally gave up on trying to repair after something like 6 years. 

Whilst shopping for paint I discovered a product called Glass-To-Mirror Converter and thought it would be fun to try; I thought it might be good for making mirrored helmet visors or bike screens, but I really needed to test it to see how it worked first. Whilst introducing Dropbear to the original 1995 anime Ghost In The Shell one night around the start of the year I spent an hour or so carefully masking out a pattern that I thought would be fun on one side - a thin line, a thick one, and another thin one representing dot-dash-dot (the Morse Code for 'R'), and a pair of diagonals because I thought diagonal lines would break things up nicely and wanted to practice making diagonal lines. Before heading off to find some food we popped downstairs to the ghetto spray-booth I made in my storage cage out of the box Damo The Vet's new couch came in so I could show him how to lay paint down, then we did another coat on the way back up to put on the 2017 version with Scar Jo. I encoded an 'R' out of vanity, but I gave it to Dropbear when it was done because he has a thing for girls who's names start with that letter plus... it was finished, and I realised I'd stopped caring. 

Came out nice tho: 

I was shopping for paint because I had a small horde of parts left over from the 'busa - ordering a full, custom-painted fairing kit was about the same price as the three panels I'd broken, so went that way; it also meant that I could finally get rid of the gold-coloured 隼 kanji on the sides and replace them with silver. I've wanted to do blue highlights on my accessories to bring out out the blue mica in the Pearl Nebular Black (Suzuki colour code YAY) for... oh, I don't know... a decade and a half now, so finally I'd be able to without it clashing. The original guard had a pile of scratches on it, so decided to use it for practice. I must have fucked it up at least three times in one way or another and had to strip it back to the plastic before I finally got the finish right, but now it's been redone in Matte Black with a fetching Metallic Blue stripe carefully laid down in the groove. 

I'll probably fit it at the same time as I fit the repainted side panels - it's the same blue and black paint, so it might actually look intentional instead of a back-yard bodge. 

The hoodie Dropbear gave me wasn't broken, although it did need a wash, but even after the smell of BO and boy-sweat was gone there was something I found offensive about it... or maybe 'offensive' is the wrong word here... 
not boring, either... 
Incomplete? 
It had these little 3M Scotchlite Black reflective strips on the arms and back that looked like someone aimed for minimalist, but landed on half-arsed instead.
It needed... More. 
I'm pretty sure it was Archangel by Pendulum that put the idea of cyber-angel wings in my head, so I snagged a free easel off Buy Nothing and a box of chalk, and did some prototyping with the words "wings", "feathers" and "speed lines" in my head whilst waiting for the nylon-backed reflector tape I ordered to arrive: 

Then I moved on to masking tape: 

I had a rough idea in mind based on sets of of 3; some might call that "predictable", I prefer to think of it as "a design language". With the basic theme laid out, I decided to break it down and started with the arms, going through at least half a dozen iterations before I got to an arrangement where the 'feathers' were cut to a ratio of 3:2:1, laid out slightly splayed when vertical so that when you bend your arms they look almost straight: 

The back took at least as many different iterations of the same "sets of 3" and "1:2/3:1/3" before I got to the layout I hated the least, but worked within the constraints: 

Yes, that IS a pillow I'm using to give it shape clamped to the easel - do you have any idea how hard it is to prototype something which needs to follow a human form using only shit you can find around the house or pick up for free? Likewise, I'd originally planned on stitching it all down, but that idea went to hell in a handbasket because keeping the strips straight whilst sewing with clumsy, nerve-damaged fingers was an exercise best described as "NOPE". Spotlight sells quite serviceable Fabric Glue Tape for not many monies, so I used that instead. I had grand intentions of using the tape to keep it in place for stitching but it's proven wind-, rain-, and generally bomb-proof so why turn something fun into not-fun? There's no ego-trip for me in making it harder for myself unless it improves the outcome, and this got the job done. 

The reflective paint is made using microscopic glass beads embedded in a grey paint, and the whole arrangement is pretty fragile - the beads rub off with friction, and the paint fractures with movement. It's already starting to show wear, bits are less reflective than when I first put it on, and some of the edges are starting to wear away. I considered looking for ways to protect it, make it last longer, then I realised...

Fuck it. It's not a bug, it's a feature. 

Over time the wings will fade, looking more and more tattered. 
Just like I have. 
Art imitating life, after a fashion.  

It's received plenty of positive feedback when I've been out, and I'm told it GLOWS in people's headlights. One thing's for sure tho: 

People are going to know EXACTLY who's in front of them. 
From half-a-kilometre away.

Not everything's been motorcycle-related... 

Pfft... 

No, of course it has. 

"Jinba ittai" has occupied an adjacent vertex to bikes in my mind's knowledge graph since the day I first heard it. You've seen the image I created by breaking down the font I found in Faderhead's More Is Never Enough clip into vectors, and rearranging pieces to build the kanji. A few weeks ago I finally got around to getting them printed: 

Whilst waiting for them to arrive I ran into Her randomly at Arbo after She'd Blocked me again. She told me just how poorly Her dog Millie's surgeries had gone, and how much money She was bleeding. I decided to put my art to a good cause, upped the asking price, and told everyone I was selling them for charity. I'd already thrown Her more money than I ever expected to make from selling decals, so it was VERY easy to put my hand on my heart and solemnly swear I was up to no good handing all of the proceeds over to help with vet fees. One of the first people to fling cash at my PayID was Damo The Loose Unit, who's also been taking lead on helping make Millie well again - his contribution paid the entire cost of printing, and more besides. Now I'm down to 24/50 of the original batch, and made nearly $400. 

Good deeds aside, pulling up at a meet and seeing my art on a dozen different bikes in a row is a fucking amazing feeling: 

I'm still playing with an idea for adding it to the hoodie rearranged vertically down the spine using iron-on vinyl, along with a line of logos down the front-left - Suzuki, 隼, Triumph... 

Eh, I'll get to it when it feels fun. 

In the meantime I have an idea for something that can hang in a window... a mason jar or something like it, which has been broken and glued back together kintsugi-stylez with some of the leftover Mirror-To-Glass paint sprayed on the broken edges. My theory is that when the sun shines through it the light will reflect off the surfaces and refract through the pieces, spraying sparks and shattered rainbows around the room. I ran the concept through Gemini to see if it had any suggestions on how to pull it off, and it said: 

"This is a brilliant, "mad scientist of decor" kind of project. The aesthetic you're describing—internal reflections and fractured light—is essentially 3D puzzle held together by hope and chemistry," then it helpfully added, "it won't be watertight or food-safe."

Hope & Chemistry. 

Sounds like the sort of name I'd give an Art Project... 

If it's right, it should look something like this: 

And when I'm done, I'll probably just give it away.

Time to go practice smashing glass jars... 

Destroy. 
Improve.. 
Rebuild... 

Wednesday, March 4, 2026

Send It

 Musical excursion: Twenty One Pilots - Routines In The Night

I'll freely admit that running without a plan is a new one for me. When telling that to people, and One In Particular, the response has been: 

"You? Without a plan? 
"Who are you, and what have you done with Peter Raven?"

Good question. I'm still working that one out myself, but answering the easier of those questions:

What the fuck is the point anyway of having and holding on to the plans you made when walking the path you laid out in every one of them fails, leaving you nowhere closer to where you thought you wanted to be, butting your head against yet another door you find yourself leaning against and hanging from the handle of, which has "Stay Out" painted on it in Whisper White, "Pull" in black, and "You have no chance to survive make your time" in a colour you can only see on an arcade CRT viewed through the mirror they used to use to create an illusion of depth back when they had to use optic trickery instead of... I dunno... a larger projection-screen... 

Not all doors are anywhere as clearly labelled tho, or when they are it's deceptive; over the last few weeks there've been more than a few times I've thought I was being invited through a door only to have it slammed in my face. Other times I've pulled away, only to be dragged back. It kinda feels like I'm living the life of a yoyo, bouncing up and down whilst spinning around and around, and occasionally walking the dog.
Or... maybe I'm more of a paddle-ball living through a constant cycle of 
GO AWAY! 
[WHACK]
WAIT, COME BACK! 
[WHACK]
I SAID GO AWAY!

Whoops, that sounds like Old Pete seeping through the cracks in the pavement, and I was fairly sure that guy died in a pool of blood at the intersection of Lonsdale St and Elouera.
I should reload from a previous Save File... 

Musical recursion: Twenty One Pilots - Routines In The Night

Running without a plan is a new one for me, but one which feels as Conversely comfortable as a pair of Damian Cowell's Old Sneakers

There's something refreshing about this lifestyle tho; like when you get a call about a job that's not really the sort of thing that's beneficial to your long-term career, and so borderline on the required skillset that it isn't worth your time writing an application for, but you have an AI Skill you trained to write them for you which requires almost no effort to use so you Send It anyway. Or when you're pissed off at someone, and you find yourself thinking about how to tell them in a way that will get the message across without jeopardising your long-term friendship-goals, but then you remember your long-term friend-goals involve having people in your life who enrich it, who play games WITH you, not ON you, and care for you as much as you do them, so you Send It anyway. 

Life without a plan has been surprisingly simple when you get down to it: 

Fulfill your promises, deliver on your contracts; once the obligation is observed, when the objective is obscured the outcomes become optional instead of obligatory, or am I just obliviating into ontological origami? 

If you can't elucidate, obfuscate. 
Fuck with perceptions. 
Fondle and back-pat words until they melt and purr. 
Whoops, there's Old Pete bleeding through again.

He made his choices; I really should get around to burying that guy.
Better reload from a previous Save File... 

Musical reset: Twenty One Pilots - Drum Show x Navigating x Next Semester

It came to pass last Friday that I found myself with my finger hovering over a whole new button; a red one marked Block instead of a blue one marked Send. I called three different people to help me navigate my situation and give me some advice, and in lieu of any of their responses I asked myself 

"What would Gorgeous George say?
"Oh yeah, that's right," and Sent It. 

When they called me back they all affirmed the decision I'd already made. I recanted it half-way the second call-back tho, because the phone had rung from a Fourth Person returning a call I'd not made, but responding to a message I'd very much sent. If there's anyone who'll agree that there are times one should Act On Instinct it's Occam's Canadian Amy, who was fascinated by this new development when I got back to her 10min later. 

Look at me falling back into old patterns again; no matter how much I want to change, there's Dead Pete waving a blood-stained middle finger back at me with a smirk that says
"You're still Me, fucko. See you back here last week." 
He's not wrong... but, when I look at the spotless hands in front of me, not in the way he was thinking all this time. 

"You're the second-highest priority on my list."
"After your Hayabusa?"
"<LOL>
"No," I replied, because whilst everything I've said on Instagram, and Facebook, and Signal, WhatsApp, in person, or on my motherfucking Blog, has been Absolutely True (Gideon may be the #1 Love Of My Life, with the Triumph coming in at #3, according to the Doge-meme'd pic I posted on Instagram the day I got it back from repairs, but it's only my 3rd highest priority), "after me. I made a fucking Promise, and you don't get to come ahead of that any more, and you don't get to break me again."
"...
"Who are you, and"
"You really should read my fucking Blog."

I remember. 
I remember everycertain things
And right now I'm remembering being the person who couldn't keep walking down Lonsdale St by the time he got to Grease Monkey 5 months ago, and being the man who was still walking past Club Lime with clean hands earlier today, 100m beyond where Old Pete collapsed, cracking jokes, in a pool of blood. 
A man who cares no less.
But who cares without the same cost.
Who loves with no less conviction.
But loves without the self-destruction. 
Pete-born.
Pete-surrected.
Pete-volved.

I'm putting on a Drum Show...