giletdonism – variation on the occasion of a cycling holiday

exhausted by the tyranny of choice, unable to sleep
four alarmed hours, panic, mile-high boredom
bad pizza is still good (pizza)
parched stroll less so
cacti burrito, visage of a village in the mirage,
reinforcements parachuting in
petulant torrents of surf, energía de la patata grande
pumice piss, a curtain of cliffs
scattered sand past the chain-gang (squared)
by fag ash straits of jagged lava, literal poetry in motion
el grifo, aquapark abandonado de los muertos
pizza tres quesos, no blue, snide salad
fall asleep in my clothes fresh from the waffle shop boys
sick in the loo at midnight, gracias, los waffle shop boys

wrap up warm for the gilet years
two big lumps then an evening of beers
it’s like 10 thousand spoons when all you need is bus fare to partick
ah well, i suppose we’ll get there in the end

lizard pulse pathos and egrets on the gravel cut
a ring around the thing regrets declined burrata
fact checked carbon turned up archaeomagnetic dating
prohibito biciclette, celestial waves lapping, rusty mounds
baps boobing a breasty boundary around the emphysema cowboy country
take a magic carpet ride on the greenback camel trail
and bury my radar at wounded knee
boquerone bocadillo on the lounger, agree to be fleeced for a taxi
nintendo cheesecake or deep fried mars bar
waitress genuinely surprised by everything we order
tiramisu, creamy goo,
live laugh love like death from above
trigger habit, sunny meditation
they sent a bus to pick us up! (call back to the pilot episode)
a man pigeon marshalls a hall of endless queues
lost laptop tizzy dash
fined for excess baggage (bang to rights)

hold on tight for the gilet years
keep it strong and stable on two round wheels
unique to the animal kingdom is the migratory mamil
i guess we’ll know when if we get there in the end

n.n. benn, february 2025

the wind cools and we race to the ferry and over the hill / comfortable in the air between fiction and essay—

the best bike rides have boats in them. that’s just a fact. we were nearing the end of the holiday, and fortunately the wind calmed a bit and we got an epic ride over the big mountain in.

i was comfortable and cool in the breeze, and considering one of my favourite writers – milan kundera. he writes perfect prose, light yet weighty. deep with philosophy, shallow with the needs of flesh. the story is unimportant – the storyteller is the whole show. characters, plots and places are tools which the author uses to carve the meaning of life into his reader.

grill on the hill was a thrill when even the slider nearly blew away

we went to a resaurant on top of a hill and nearly blew away. i could feel my sliders blowing off my feet as i trudged up and down the sand dune. i think the food was alright though.

#gastronomy

santa lucia, bocadillo con queso, cortardo y cerveza it’s great to be back

pretty self explanatory. a cheap and good cafe. half way up or down a hill. roll and cheese and a milky coffee on the way up. ice cream and a shandy on the way down.

oil slick sneaker sandstorm set back, sliders for the subsequence

we walked to the next town across for lunch one day. went to a pretty average/crap cafe. it was a longish walk back. an hour or so. i needed to pee so snuck behind a screen at an abandoned construction site. accidentally stood on a plastic jug of dark oil. who knows what it was but it got all over me. ruined my brand new shoes. the only pair i brought with me! traumatic.

and when we got back home, it turned out the restaurant we went to was a chain. and there was another one right next to our apartment. the only half decent restaurant in town as well.