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    The Black Rider

    authentic since 1981 'welcome to my bomboclot mind'

    Tuesday, February 27, 2007

    The Triumphant


    Driving to work this morning listening to 96.3 FM, The New York Times classical music station, I am feeling very inspired. They are playing an Epic composition but I will not recall the name of the composer, I will remember the title of the piece includes the word 'epic'.

    My old 1993 Volvo never feels so triumphant. As the music soars, I turn the volume on maximum, I can feel the air moving through the vehicle. Visions and images start to spur from my mind, a triumphant army marching over tumbling enemies. My spirit feels so motivated, like it is a brand new day, and about half way in my journey I realize I have forgotten my lunch, my two bottles of Poland Spring water and my Cingular cellular phone. Not to be deterred since I scarcely have money or the gas wherewith to leave my job at lunch time and spend more money on a lunch I did not make, since I had spent the early hours of Monday morning preparing my lunch, five turkey sandwiches, one for each day of the week, I decide to turn the car around and collect my lunch as well as my water and cellular phone.

    I drive the distance back home, pick up my lunch, and return to my car, my motive is now entirely different. Sure, I now have my most prized accessory, my phone, my lunch and my two bottles of water, but my forgetfulness is docking me fifteen minutes of pay. The music is also entirely different this time. They are now playing a drowsy, maundering composition which title and composer I am not at all interested in learning or knowing of. The music has become too fitting to the moment for my taste. And to top it off, everyone seems to be driving drunk or drunk on madness at eight 'o' clock in the morning.

    School buses appear out of thin air all of a sudden and their slow and menacing pace is deliberately aggravating me. The other drivers have forgotten how to drive all together, randomly reversing into intersections and shifting lanes with no regard or concern for anyone else. Delivery trucks stall the traffic and this seems all too serendipitous.

    My cars begins to shut off. First at a major intersection as soon as the red light turns green. I turn on my hazards and proceed to try and restart the car for ten seconds. I now become the aggravation. Cars drive around my stalled vehicle with contempt. The ignition kicks in. I drive and the car shuts of again at the next light. And again at another light a quarter of a mile away. I continue to turn my hazards on and cars continue to circle and I continue to aggravate the drunk drivers and those who are drunk on madness. I turn my radio off because no sonic artwork can calm my rampant screams of obscenities and blasphemous use of the name of the Christian Lord.

    I make it to work. Safely. I am fifteen minutes late, thank God it's only that due to the many hiccups of my car. And I still have my lunch, cellular phone and two bottles of water. I am triumphant.

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    If you know me then you know my name. I am The Black Rider and the world is my Flame. The rider writes, observes, creates, produces, and learns the world around him. Ride on. Ride on!

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