There's something about Interstate 95 in New Jersey that's magnified by a wet, humid Saturday morning in January - the whole state seemed moody and hungover, the worse for wear. On the way back, the Delaware Bridge was obscured by fog; crossing the George Washington Bridge after sunset we saw the lights climbing the suspension cables before disappearing into the dark fog. Even Manhattan was barely visible.

Several times on the drive I pulled out my camera, but put it away for lack of space on the memory card, and for another reason too. Photographs are just photographs - they can beautifully augment an experience, capture a moment, or the process of doing that can leave you stuck behind a viewfinder.

So, attempts to write the song that perfectly archives this or that Life Experience - with humor, hindsight, regret, nostaligia - can occasionally be detrimental to one's ability to learn from a situation. Archiving life by writing about it is a good idea, but sometimes those songs and stories must remain unfinished, so that I can remember what I carry with me - past, pain, joy, love. Keeping yourself firmly rooted in the past is part of staying in the present.

And, with that said, I'll close with a joke about how coming to visit somebody From The Future is way more of an exciting and terrifying prospect than saying to somebody, "I Am Coming To You From The Paaaaaaaaast!" Because really, that should not come as a surprise to anybody...

On Monday morning, I hit snooze on my cell phone alarm clock a few times before seriously lifting my head. I muttered to myself and kicked at the sheets, grabbed the string for the venetians that dangled by the head of my bed and tugged the blinds open - not much brighter.

Yeah, it's getting toward December all right.

It's still mild out but I took a look at the bike, and at the clock steadily creeping past 8 AM, and decided I'd take the subway in. It's not really a decision based on how much time I have, because riding the bike is quicker especially when I factor in the walk from MSG to my office, but the later it gets, the harder it is to get going, and something just made me not want to get on my bike that morning.

Maybe there was an accident waiting to happen.

On the subway I got the opportunity to watch people disengage with their surroundings. iPods everywhere, tinkering with cell phones, or just staring straight ahead, numbed out. What a world we live in, where we take every opportunity to shut ourselves out from it. It makes me grateful I don't have an iPod and it makes me grateful that I don't take the subway to work - with fatigue and resign, I too would just look for ways to disengage.

I've spent a lot of time in various parts of my life doing things that have been disengaging rather than engaging. I like to think that biking is a way to engage with the world - I get outside more often, go places I wouldn't otherwise, meet people I wouldn't otherwise, interact with strangers more, perhaps, than I would if I were on foot - but it's a bit more complicated and more dynamic than that, because I'm sure that some people around me may have noticed my occasional tendency to sink into a space where I only think about riding. It's happened. It will happen again. I try to be careful with myself when patterns and priorities emerge in my life. There was a few months last year when I spent almost no money at all, except on alcohol. It's good to track those sort of things, to be clear about how it's choice and not happenstance.

This started with me thinking about how I'm glad I don't have an iPod. But I also have to realize that I've barely discovered new music in the past two years. I can count on one hand the number of artists who have broken in to my steady rotation. So what I really need to do is give friends 5 blank CDs and tell them to get to work on my "New Year, New Music" gift.

I gotta get on that.

Welcome to my serious blog.

Last night I went to an open mic at a cafe in New York. I was looking forward to it because I want to meet other musicians. I'm part of a small group of musicians who have founded an independant record label called Frictionless Records, which is a member-run musical collective dedicated to artistic and musical cross-pollination--musical mutual aid. We help each other write, record, and perform. We are friends. We are also geographically scattered, and since I just recently settled in New York, I'd like to get my feet on the ground, poke around in some musical scenes, and keep eyes and ears open to how we might be able to expand. Expand in terms of performance and expand in terms of size--we want to find more like-minded individuals with whom to work.

I went to an open mic as a sort of Step One in this process. Unfortunately, this open mic was a serious clique-fest. Some skilled people, some interesting guitar work, some beautiful voices, but there was limited time and the MC let his drunk friends prattle in front of the mic for excessive periods of time. What's with the mentality of not respecting other performers and just waiting for your time to dominate the mic? I'm so not interested in that.

Time ran out. I did not get to play. I biked back home to the Bronx and fell asleep and now I'm at work, tired and a bit grouchy because I got less sleep than I generally prefer.

This blog is about lots of things, and music and bikes are two big things in my life. Music has been in my life for as long as I can remember and I'm experiencing a really serious revitalization. A few weeks ago, my band opened for The Wrens, an older, well-respected, super-talented indie rock band from New Jersey that we adore. It was a pretty big deal for us; I don't go to many shows and I'm completely not down with the tour circuit and who's releasing what new album when, so it was my first musical innundation in a while. The Wrens blew me away with their talent; I got re-inspired and am putting a lot of new effort into my music.

Biking is a more recent love of mine. Two/three years ago I got interested in bikes, and started out by learning the duct-tape-and-hammer mechanic method--not unlike the "shake it until it works" school of home engineering. I borrowed a friend's urban singlespeed road bike and was thrilled at how fast and effortless it was, and needed to have one. Bought a fixed gear beater from a friend for $80 and a spanish textbook. Shortly thereafter I got a job in a bike shop and built up the bike that I've been riding for the past year and a half, an IRO Mark V frame with a variety of random components on it. I commute 20 miles a day, do some casual alleycat-style urban racing, and some long distance utilitarian biking.

There's a bike scene in NYC, too--an urban fixed scene--and I'm not much in it yet. But maybe soon.

Also of note and of excitement is: I might be buying a real pretty classic track frame. It's a possibility, far from a probability. It will be nice to have nice things. I don't own a lot of nice things.