2:06 AM, Friday March 13th, 2026
I just got back from taking a fairing-less 'busa out for a test ride to see if the bodgy Cold Weld repair of the oil cooler had sealed the cracks:
It had not.
"Fuck it," I thought to myself, so whilst leaning against it at Flags I flicked thru fleaBay and put an order in for a new one which should arrive in a week or so whilst sucking on the mint-flavoured vape I'm trying to see if it'll be an adequate substitute for cigarettes:
It has not.
Earlier this evening I checked on the fairing panel which has been sitting in the downstairs spray-booth waiting for the top coat to cure, and found that the paint has cracked just from the plastic flex of it sitting there.
"Fuck it," I decided, masked the curve where I wanted the matte-black to meet the blue, and emptied the last of the can over the lower section. When I got back I peeled the masking tape away, and found that the clear had cracked even more, answering the question of whether 2K paint is suitable to bike fairings:
It is not.
So it looks like I'll be sanding it all back over the next couple of days and doing it all over again, but it's not like I'll be riding it for the next couple of weeks anyway so it's just time I'd rather be spending doing something else and money that would be better spent elsewhere.
Things not working out has been par for the fucking course of late tho, so I guess I should just take The Australien Government's advice and:
Part of me knew this was what life would be like when I heard Enter Shikari quote Samuel Beckett's "try again, fail again, fail better," and thought
"Fuck yeah!
"That shit, right there!"
but that guy hadn't become me yet, wasn't fucking sick of not giving up on what he believes in, and isn't the one standing with his toes On The Verge of the petrol-soaked bridge across the Rubicon with a die in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other wondering whether one or both will get Thrown, and who he'll be on the other side.
Whichever I choose I'm pretty sure I'm going to feel Guilty...
¿Por qué no los dos?
9:16PM, Monday April 13th, 2026
Retroactive shift of paradigm: Deadmau5 - Monophobia (feat. Rob Swire)
So it's been a month (or, as Ian might inflect it: So it's been quite A Month) I've stood watch accumulating and analysing signals, tracing patterns, making a model and checking it twice^31 whilst the pile of cigarette butts I've ground under the heel of my boot grows to my right and the pieces of vapes I've been dismantling to strip out the LiPo batteries they contain accumulate to my left and although neither of those piles are anywhere near as large as the throne of shattered Hayabusa parts I'm now sitting on whilst I nurse the 3 ribs I broke in the crash that made it, but it's all hurting a lot less after 8 days so it feels like the time's come to pick myself up, write it off, and start moving again.
I'd chosen to Make It a point, and put a lot of effort into, walking a fine line between sharing the things that are mine in public, and leaving the things which aren't to be said in private, but She's chosen to go and Block me again so with no way to say what I want to directly I've decided to retaliate and Send It to where anyone can hear it, including Her should she choose. I could choose to leave what follows an Unsent Letter, just like I could stomp out the ember of the cigarette burning down between my fingers along with all the rest, but Newton's Third Law applies as it always has and whilst 'equal' might be subject to calculation, publishing this Open Letter is the 'opposite' reaction I've chosen; flicking it towards the fuel that's leaked out of Gideon's ruptured tank and not looking back at the fire it will ignite may be interpersonal equivalent of a scorched earth tactic, but you need to know:
I'm not MAD, I'm just disappointed.
What I expect will make this incendiary is the "open" part of this - if I were sending this directly to a single reader I could skip the context, but without that anyone ELSE reading it won't really understand what I'm talking about, so in the interest of catering to the broader audience I have to go into a bit more detail so it makes sense, but you know what?
Fuck it.
The question that remains is whether the friend/situation/fuckever-you-want-to-call-this-toxic-bull/ship was already dead when I hit Publish and Send It, or of hitting Publish is what Makes It die...
... and on that happy note:
[.-. . -.. .- -.-. - . -..]
9:17PM, Monday April 27th, 2026
The problem with taking forever to write something is that occasionally the earth moves under your feet and the whole premise comes tumbling down. In this case that came in the form of a semi-random encounter which led to a conversation precipitating my being unBlocked again and whilst it's an uneasy truce that means my social license for publicly publishing my Thesis on the Airing of Grievances and Their Subsequent Analysis has become tenuous enough that I can't REALLY justify proceeding as planned. That said, I put a lot of time and effort into the opening sections and I hate to throw out the piping-hot bathwater I've had on the boil that I now need to leave baby-free, so I've decided to Publish the rest of the post with the Open Letter left [REDACTED].
I intend to keep writing and finish the rest of it tho because I feel that it's worth doing, even if Everyone (except Ian) has been blunt-to-the-point-of-brutal in telling me how strongly they disagree, and when it's done, one way or another, I intend to Send It just as bluntly.
No comments:
Post a Comment