I have watched the bike tire on my bike slowly deflate, after the last repair, which involved Gorilla brand tape being used, in lieu of any commercially produced tube patching kit.
This was after I had Googled: "bicycle tire tube repair diy cheap" and was pleasantly surprised to see right near the top of the results, a claim that, whatever is in duct tape is better than what is in most tube patch kits on the market.
It seems impossible that air is escaping through a tiny pinhole in the tube and getting through the adhesive of the tape while under so many pounds of pressure, pushing the tape against the hole...
I must put the tube under water again and look for tiny little bubbles somewhere else on the tube.
In the meantime, I took the streetcar into the quarter last night.
This was after having texted to Lilly: "I'm coming down to play. I'm nervous," and having received back:
"That's fine."
And, after having busked for 1 hour and 33 minutes, and having had no interference from the law, I assumed that Lilly had indeed spoken to the officers -one of them stopped his van Saturday, about 100 feet short of me and sat there, as if on the phone.
I started to fish for my own phone, whereupon he began moving again, and rode past me with maybe a barely perceptible glance towards me.
I wasn't even sure if it was the same cop that had told me "You can't play in front of people's houses."
But, I made $38 bucks during that hour and 33 minutes; and then felt much relief as I walked from the Quartermaster back to Canal Street to catch a streetcar home.
It was similar to what a guy might feel upon getting out of prison, as far as there just seeming to be, once again, flowers everywhere as I walked, and I could smell them, and the houses all looked beautiful and interesting and; I recalled something that I had read in the "Awaken the Genius" book, which basically had to do with worrying at all about anything behind the logic of "didn't it all turn out to be nothing at all?" when it comes to things that, in the past, you might have thought were the end of the world.
I never thought that losing the Lilly Pad would be the end of the world, rather that, it might be high time for me to promote myself to the stage of Royal Street, and become an amplified attraction there with the prognostication being that, since I am loud enough at the Lilly Pad for the nearest half dozen people to hear me, and that yields me 18 bucks per hour then, if I expand that radius around me, and if my memory of geometry serves me, I think that with every increase of one decibel, you will allow PI (3.14) more people to hear you.
And, I would have accepted the challenge of having to tailor a repertoire of music-to-be-shouted-from-across-the-street, which is at least a hybrid of music-that-some-long-figure-under-a-solitary-shaft-of-light-in-the-shadows is likely to be.
So, "Born In The U.S.A." by Bruce Springsteen, would replace maybe one of my originals...
I imagine that, if I was a tourist in say, Toledo, Spain, and I came upon a group of indigenous buskers, singing "Born In Spain," I would tip them. There is something endearing about people being proud of where they were randomly born...
So, it turns out that the bike that Bob gave me, through Jacob is fancy enough that its tires are a strange and rare size which requires metric conversion to even begin to understand.
I am pretty sure that, since rubber stretches a lot, I just have to be within the ballpark, but still, tomorrow Bobby and I are going to go to the big, exciting Wal-Mart Superstore and look for a tube for a 700 centimeter by anywhere between 35 and 44 centimeter tire, and a heavy duty one would be nice.
I am staying in tonight. This morning, I woke up with no "sinking" feeling, for the first time in weeks.
It was my third day without kratom.
It felt like being in a safe cocoon. I felt confident and optimistic.
It usually takes me about 3 hours, or until I have had a shot of kratom, to feel that way on a typical day.
I do see a possible connection. But, also, I had been increasing the kratom usage, to the point of doing a shot before blogging and busking, but then maybe another one ten hours later, before doing music studio work. It stands to reason, based upon Newton's theory that that will lead to some kind of malaise, like waking up feeling like it might not matter at all that you ever existed, type of thing.
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| Oh, no! It's coiled and ready to strike my wallet!! |
It seems impossible that air is escaping through a tiny pinhole in the tube and getting through the adhesive of the tape while under so many pounds of pressure, pushing the tape against the hole...
I must put the tube under water again and look for tiny little bubbles somewhere else on the tube.
In the meantime, I took the streetcar into the quarter last night.
This was after having texted to Lilly: "I'm coming down to play. I'm nervous," and having received back:
"That's fine."
And, after having busked for 1 hour and 33 minutes, and having had no interference from the law, I assumed that Lilly had indeed spoken to the officers -one of them stopped his van Saturday, about 100 feet short of me and sat there, as if on the phone.
I started to fish for my own phone, whereupon he began moving again, and rode past me with maybe a barely perceptible glance towards me.
I wasn't even sure if it was the same cop that had told me "You can't play in front of people's houses."
But, I made $38 bucks during that hour and 33 minutes; and then felt much relief as I walked from the Quartermaster back to Canal Street to catch a streetcar home.
It was similar to what a guy might feel upon getting out of prison, as far as there just seeming to be, once again, flowers everywhere as I walked, and I could smell them, and the houses all looked beautiful and interesting and; I recalled something that I had read in the "Awaken the Genius" book, which basically had to do with worrying at all about anything behind the logic of "didn't it all turn out to be nothing at all?" when it comes to things that, in the past, you might have thought were the end of the world.
I never thought that losing the Lilly Pad would be the end of the world, rather that, it might be high time for me to promote myself to the stage of Royal Street, and become an amplified attraction there with the prognostication being that, since I am loud enough at the Lilly Pad for the nearest half dozen people to hear me, and that yields me 18 bucks per hour then, if I expand that radius around me, and if my memory of geometry serves me, I think that with every increase of one decibel, you will allow PI (3.14) more people to hear you.
And, I would have accepted the challenge of having to tailor a repertoire of music-to-be-shouted-from-across-the-street, which is at least a hybrid of music-that-some-long-figure-under-a-solitary-shaft-of-light-in-the-shadows is likely to be.
So, "Born In The U.S.A." by Bruce Springsteen, would replace maybe one of my originals...
I imagine that, if I was a tourist in say, Toledo, Spain, and I came upon a group of indigenous buskers, singing "Born In Spain," I would tip them. There is something endearing about people being proud of where they were randomly born...
So, it turns out that the bike that Bob gave me, through Jacob is fancy enough that its tires are a strange and rare size which requires metric conversion to even begin to understand.
I am pretty sure that, since rubber stretches a lot, I just have to be within the ballpark, but still, tomorrow Bobby and I are going to go to the big, exciting Wal-Mart Superstore and look for a tube for a 700 centimeter by anywhere between 35 and 44 centimeter tire, and a heavy duty one would be nice.
I am staying in tonight. This morning, I woke up with no "sinking" feeling, for the first time in weeks.
It was my third day without kratom.
It felt like being in a safe cocoon. I felt confident and optimistic.
It usually takes me about 3 hours, or until I have had a shot of kratom, to feel that way on a typical day.
I do see a possible connection. But, also, I had been increasing the kratom usage, to the point of doing a shot before blogging and busking, but then maybe another one ten hours later, before doing music studio work. It stands to reason, based upon Newton's theory that that will lead to some kind of malaise, like waking up feeling like it might not matter at all that you ever existed, type of thing.
There are 26" tubes, 29" tubes now, then there are the various 700-sized tires and tubes. Then there are Shrader valves and Presta valves.
ReplyDeleteA lot of modern tube patches are simply glorified tape. I only like to use the ones that actually "vulcanize" the rubber, and I remember my dad's "Monkey Grip" tire patch kit where you actually lit the glue on fire then slapped the patch on.
Wal-Mart's good for cheap tubes, but they're often out. You could order some online too.