bike polo...indoors!

A few months ago, feeling that I really had nothing left to lose, I randomly biked to the William E. Smith playing field in Allston to watch my first game of bike polo.
My appearance was, being totally random, awkward. But a firm believer in the power of enthusiasm, I showed up again the next week...and the next...and the next.
And while I could barely take a hand off the bars back in October, I can now hold a mallet and [sort of] "play."
But improving bike skills aren't the only reason I kept showing up, week after week, in the increasing cold. It's one break in the almost endless cycle of 12-14 hour days, where I can forget about grown-up things like "being responsible." I can pop open a beer on 2pm on a Sunday and laugh at things I actually find funny, rather than doing the polite, courtesy laugh and pretending to be interested in things that are...not that interesting. And though there's something definitely terrifying about seeing three to four aggressive, skilled polo players pedaling towards you at full speed, mallets drawn, bike polo - and the people that play - has legitimately kept me sane.
So when the possibility of playing polo indoors came up, I chose to forget my schoolwork, my ever-persistent jet-lag, and the reality that it's kind of cold out to hitch a ride to Hockeytown in Saugus with Boston's finest [polo players].
Bikes stacked into the back of Tyler's truck, we impatiently made our way through rush hour traffic and made it just in time for our free trial hour of polo.

The court, made for roller hockey, is made up of plastic panels; and let me tell you, it's huge.

Games immediately followed our arrival, and though it was a little chilly, the hour was over all too quickly.

Lucky for us, Hockeytown has some openings during the week and weekends. Seems like we'll be making a few more drives to Saugus until the weather gets nicer.

how to get a hat...

Remember when Bape was popular? Not like when it was still obscure enough to be hip but when it was just underground enough to get you some scene points? And then how it exploded into this black hole of shameless consumerism?
I remember the shirts, the secret stores with no signs, and one of the most amazing shoe stores I've ever stepped into.
It's gone now. The shoe store, that is.
But I still like Bape, mostly because of the incredible irony of the whole brand/situation. Nigo (the creator of Bape) based the brand name on a Japanese proverb to describe complacency: "like apes bathing in lukewarm water." He thought Japanese youth suffered from lazy, luxurious, complacency. They were the same people that would unquestioningly snatch up his products several years later (enabling Nigo to stud his teeth with diamonds).
I didn't want to be a Bape. Neither do I want to stud my teeth with diamonds.

Which might explain my aversion to outright selling my hats. I'd rather trade. I'd rather see people love what I make. I'd gladly give a hat away for free if it gave someone an excuse to do something they loved to do. Taking money is too easy. Besides, words like "profit" coupled with words like "art" sort of make me sick.
But at the same time, there's only one of me; and while I speak an Asian language, I don't have 18 fingers (+2 points if you get that reference). So to answer the emails that have been appearing in my inbox lately - how do you get a pedal-strike hat?
Go to Cambridge Bikes, or
Make me an offer - something you are willing to do in return for a hat. I don't mean "bring me beer" (unless it's Hitachino White Pale Ale). I mean do something. Make something. It doesn't have to be outrageous, as long as it's more interesting than cash.
Or, watch this site (and try your luck...more info on that soon, I promise).
Oh yeah, and say hello if you ever see me around.

a charming commuter

My favorite black ballet flats, a vintage Dior shirt-dress, a pair of square gold earrings repossessed from my Mom, a vintage dark green Loewe handbag from the same source, and black leggings.
Oh, and my favorite Miu Miu shades.
Plus a bright red cruiser.
Rides to school, the store, the coffee shop are effortlessly stylish.
Yeah, right.
The [sad] reality actually consists of layers of socks, Underarmour, fleece zip-ups, and some legit Pearl Izumi gloves. Sweat also makes a consistent appearance; and while I may be able to get up Heartbreak Hill with a laptop and some casebooks on my back, the gasping for breath at the top of that hill is definitely not stylish.
Although, to be fair, this would probably totally clash on a red cruiser:

My Mom, paranoid that my bike commuting will eventually get me killed, bought me a commuter safety charm. Lucky me that it was dark green, matches my bike, and is small enough to fit underneath the seat without me having to raise it.

bosox fever

Good thing I'm not a Bosox fan.
I'm not sure I can take the intensity of it all; and despite the fact that I barely manage to get dressed every day (i.e., that I've completely let myself go), I can't/won't wear the Bosox hat and t-shirt combo. Particularly if the former is pink.
I know that sounds hypocritical, almost. Like I'll unashamedly get every pink component I can get my hands on for my bike but I refuse to wear that particular color. But the pink Bosox hat is peculiar - it's like dressing up a butchy lesbian to hide the obvious from the relatives: It doesn't make anything more "feminine" and it just smacks of [imposed] traditional gender norms/roles.
Besides, I'm not obsessed with the Sox enough to rock any Bosox attire. And a friend should be very glad I'm not.

Otherwise, I would be keeping this, instead of handing it over to one of my first bike friends. And while the hat gave me enough grief to qualify for "I would only do this for a friend I really really really value" type work (and it's definitely on the list of "things I don't think I really want to do, again"), I can rest assured that it's going to be loved (and worn). Enjoy the hat, E!

noodle legs

It's the first time I've been downtown in what seems like forever. Battling the wind and cold, I found myself at Hot Tomatoes, having lunch with some fellow fixed riders.
With great company, I got to eat the yummiest grilled cheese and tomato soup. We even got free cookies!
I mean, it all came back to bite me in the ass when I was trying to pedal up the hills on Beacon Street on a full stomach (and headwind!), but it was still loads of fun.
Of course I showed up wearing one of my hats - an old school one though, one that's missing this:

They're not perfect, but then again, nothing that I do really is. It's better than sending them out into the world totally naked though, right?