i've been on a nostalgic kick lately. that is, if you consider watching 5 hitchcock films in 4 weeks "nostalgic." to catch a thief lured me in. soon, my evenings were consumed by men who knew too much, spying through rear windows, and knowing - beyond a shadow of a doubt - that this was the best way to spend my time. by labor day, i was on the edge of my seat at the michigan theater begging fictional characters not to visit the bates motel.
on red's recommendation, i started into middlesex after returning from portland. this, of course, piqued my interest about all things motown. bike rides, inquiries, and lingering lyrics led me to ruminate over the '67 riots. in the end, i arrived at a much clearer understanding of how and where the detroit riots started. and, as usual, contemplating canada. it seems only natural that a girl who loved the wreck of the edmund fitzgerald would grow into a woman who looks to dylan and lightfoot for answers.
a mutually ill-informed debate over the leadership qualities of malcolm x versus dr. king drove me to watch spike lee's self-titled biography. incredible performances and fresh direction made me do the right thing with my movie queue. trying to reconcile my pacifist tendencies with a new narrative, i stumbled into this bit of trivia.
having exhausted my mind and spirit, i refueled with a lovin' spoonful of knickerbocker's best remedy:
You may ask yourself, "How did I get here?". - I'm going to tell you all about L'Eroica California in painstaking detail: Just not now. I will say though that I've given a lot to cycling over the years...