Came across a sweet+short post about berets and a penny farthing.
Link: The Beret Project

Do photographs smell?
I can smell the smoke coming out of the cigarette in the woman standing back there. The smell of the zooming scooters. The smell of the news stand and the universal feeling that is the independence of grabbing your bike and going.
Did you smell anything interesting this morning?

♥I love this picture.
from Regis, my bloggy friend at aparisiancyclist.blogspot.com

One of my favorite artsy visual diy blogs has a series about bikes this week. Grace has a keen eye to link all kinds of beautiful visual inspiration from prints, to interiors to a pleasant few-minutes that take you elsewhere. So damn cute!!
Read it here: bike madness: bikes, accessories, and inspired decor

and here is an interview with Julie, and she really emphasises on the ‘anti-Armstrong’ cycling action in the US. We got lots of anti-Lance here in San Francisco then, though I am pro-Lance whenever his videos of him pop up in the interwebs in Austin on a fixie, sans helmet and with sandals on, which I guess that is quite rare and certainly not for what he is known for. Anyway, back to Julie’s cute store =)
Has anyone in NYC been to it? Looks pretty cool!
Here she is in her store “adeline adeline” in the big apple:

Speaking of links, she has also mentioned Anh-Minh Le and Meg Mateo’s new magazine – Anthology! Read design*sponge’s link here: new design magazine: anthology!

I’m so happy the two Bay Area creative ladies are making the blogrounds. Tomorrow I will post the book signing even I attended last week at the candystore on 16th st.
♥ding ding!!

Lycra, racing, fashion, Tati, retro. Whatever. Get on your bike and ride!! ding-ding 😀

from here via cyclelicious

One of my colleagues, a fellow photo-loving language enthusiast, shared this poem with me. We were talking about rides, photos and other things we run into from time to time.
Photos by me (Maker Faire 2009)
Poem by R.C.

Enjoy!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – AT THE FREMONT SCRAPYARD
///// By R.C [TheCrowbard.com]
My friends and I met r
at the Fremont scrapyard
to find spare parts r
for our broken cars. r

It was far too hot
between the rusting hulks r
and forgotten back seat trysts r
to smoke or even talk. r

Here, three generations
of the American Dream r
lay in state, dusty and hot
beneath the California sun. r

We were hiding in the shadows
of the rusting idols, piled r
and spread three acres wide,
with neither grace nor markers. r

The heat was just too much – r
they tell me I passed out. r
Beneath that unbound sky
I had a scary dream. r

I dreamt those cars r
came back to life, r
rumbling like thunder, but
horrifically transformed: r

There were V-8 rhinos, r
Buick armadillos, with r
giant fenders on their hides, r
some pompous Bel-Air monsters, r

And Camaro drag queens; r
grunting red hippo trucks,
– even millipede Corvettes – r
and they were hunting r

Some gopher Hondas and
Rabbits out to graze; they
didn’t stand a chance against
that steel stampede.

I guess I had a heatstroke; r
all this was months ago.
I feel much better now, r
and ride a bicycle to work.