Bicycle Diaries

Chicago seen

noreply@blogger.com (Da' Square Wheelman,) — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 11:46:00 +0000

really seen
by Vivian Maier

She looks rather dour, this French immigrant who came to the States sometime before WWII. After a brief stint in The Big Apple, she settled in Oak Park, working as a nanny for a solidly Windy City, suburban family. Her immigrant story would've remained rather ordinary if it weren't for her photographic work (consisting of 20,000 negatives and about a thousand rolls of undeveloped film with 12-14 images on each) and John Maloof who bought it at a local estate sale. You can see here what he's gleaned from the vast collection. And you can read the story here of his attempts to meet her; she died days before he finally discovered her whereabouts, and then his efforts to discover who she actually was.

Though her life's details are spare, I think you can get a sense for Vivian from the sheer humanity (and sometimes humor) of her photography. It also reminds me that once upon a time, not all that long ago, The City of Big Shoulders was mostly working class folks little more than a generation removed from The Old Country.

She definitely had the eye for the great contradictions of our Prairie Metropolis. The photos of monumental buildings always include the human beings they supposedly served. More often then not, the foucs is tight, filling the scene with on the margins of successful, rich America in the 1950s and 1960s: the kids, the black maids, the bums flaked out on shop stoops.

It's a shame her artistry lived in obscurity. When I showed Vivian's photos to a co-worker here at Bickerdike, she mentioned that they would have made wonderful visuals for Studs Terkel's Division Street. As he wrote,

The nomadic, transient nature of contemporary life has made diffusion the order – or disorder – of the city….I guess I was seeking some balance in the wildlife of the city as Rachel Carson sought it in nature.

Bicycle wheels

noreply@blogger.com (Da' Square Wheelman,) — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 11:28:00 +0000

by
Ugly Kid Joe

Life is to be lived on the positive tip
Never lose the ground
You never gonna slip
If you never lose the ground Always draw the line
Never wear the frown

Should've got myself some bicycle wheels
Should've got myself some bicycle wheels
Should've got myself some bicycle wheels

On the wings of steel
There's dinosaur's in countries
Everyone that I've seen
There's dinosaur's in countries
If you know what I mean
I always keep a watch on the ever changing future

Doing what I want
And you could do what suits you
I said throw your hands in the air
I like to see your armpit hair
Throw your hands in the air
I like to see your armpit hair

Life is to be lived on the positive tip
I'll never lose the ground
You know I'm never gonna slip
Never gonna slip, cause I never lose the ground
Always draw the line
You know I never wear the frown

Shrine of the Vélotariat

noreply@blogger.com (Da' Square Wheelman,) — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 11:23:00 +0000

blessing the bike

On 2 November, The Oregonian reported that St. Stephen's Episcopal Church in downtown Portland has

become the nation's first church with a permanent indoor shrine honoring the Madonna del Ghisallo, who is the patron saint of cyclists. An entire section of the 80-year-old wood-and-stone sanctuary will be set aside for bike commuters to contemplate their travels and remember those who have died while cycling.

A painting of the Madonna del Ghisallo (above) by local artist Martin Wolfe will hang above bike parking and a nave where travelers can light candles or sit in reflection.

On the road

noreply@blogger.com (Da' Square Wheelman,) — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 11:11:00 +0000

with the original
Working Bikes

I was just listening to Bob Edward's Weekend on Chicago Public Radio Sunday morning. He did a piece on Charles Kuralt's famous TV essays, interviewing his cameraman, Izzy Bleckman. And he mentioned Jethro Mann who back in the early 80s had started fixing bikes for the kids of his town, Belmont, NC. He told Kuralt that it hurt him to grow up without bikes. So he started a bike lending library. His garage was filled with wrecked bikes. The kids were careful to return the bikes every evening, about suppertime. Then he would work on them, sometimes until one or two o'clock in the morning.

Everything you wanted to know about Cricket

noreply@blogger.com (Da' Square Wheelman,) — Sat, 31 Oct 2009 11:21:00 +0000

...but were afraid
to rap!

Thanks to San Francisco Tweed, here's the latest track from a new album from the chap-hop sensation. On the mean streets and cricket pitches of Surrey, Mr. B, the Gentleman Rhymer, reveals the strength of his cricket knowledge.

3 cheers for Dutch vélopunk

noreply@blogger.com (Da' Square Wheelman,) — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 11:00:00 +0000

five minutes
in heaven

With Stardust Memories
by
Artie Shaw

3 cheers for Dansk vélopunk

noreply@blogger.com (Da' Square Wheelman,) — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 10:46:00 +0000

The Voice of the Globe 1937
rolls in Copenhagen

From James A. Fitzpatrick's
Traveltalks

The American documentary film director specialized throughout his career in travel documentaries. Besides directing, he also wrote, produced, and narrated. As well as The Voice of the Globe, MGM distributed a series of his travel films under the umbrella title Fitzpatrick Traveltalks. Paramount also distributed his series, Vistavision Visits. Their hallmarks were Technicolor photography and stolidity.

And you thought computers suck...

noreply@blogger.com (Da' Square Wheelman,) — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 10:15:00 +0000

what
about
books?

So one day that old mediator between Good & Evil, the Egyptian god Thoth, invents writing. Up till then, folks just filled up their noggins with pretty much everything. And Thoth proudly offering it as a gift to the Pharaoh of Egypt, claiming it'll be

an elixir of memory and wisdom.

Pharaoh ain't all that impressed. In fact, he's downright horrified, replying,

This invention will induce forgetfulness in the souls of those who have learned it, because they will not need to exercise their memories, being able to rely on what is written…rather than, from within, their own unaided powers to call things to mind.

So it’s not a remedy for memory, but for reminding, that you have discovered. And as for wisdom, you are equipping your pupils with only a semblance of it, not with truth.

Oprah's not famous in Europe

noreply@blogger.com (Da' Square Wheelman,) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 13:18:00 +0000

so the Olympics
won't be in Chicago

As you know, lots have been going on with me over the past few months. I haven't had time to comment of recent events ... like the Windy City's lost bid for the 2016 Olympics. So here's a funny mash-up of Downfall that brings us into the Mayor Bunker to reveal just how disappointing all this has been for The City that Works. Especially hilarious is the line 53 seconds in:

Everyone who has already been indicted for something, leave now.

Remember, remember...

noreply@blogger.com (Da' Square Wheelman,) — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 21:03:00 +0000

the 7th of November

Well, it's supposed to be on the 5th when the Brits captured poor Guido, AKA Guy, in the cellars of Parliament. But that's a school night so we're doing it on Saturday, when he finally admitted to The Gun Powder Plot after some extreme interrogation methods. In any case, Viscount Wallace has submitted preliminary details here!

Remember, remember the Fifth of November,
the Gunpowder Treason and Plot,

I see no reason why Gunpowder Treason should ever be forgot.
Guy Fawkes, t’was his intent to blow up King and Parliament.

Three score barrels were laid below to prove old England’s overthrow;
By God’s mercy he was catch’d with a dark lantern and lighted match.

Holloa boys, holloa boys, let the bells ring.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King!

Hip hip hoorah!

A penny loaf to feed the Pope
A farthing o’ cheese to choke him.

A pint of beer to rinse it down.
A faggot of sticks to burn him.

Burn him in a tub of tar.
Burn him like a blazing star.

Burn his body from his head.
Then we’ll say ol’ Pope is dead.

Hip hip hoorah!
Hip hip hoorah hoorah!

Biker killed by truck

noreply@blogger.com (Da' Square Wheelman,) — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 16:03:00 +0000

Liza Whitacre
1986 - 2009

Jeremy Gorner reported yesterday on Chicago's Breaking News Center,

A 23-year-old woman died this afternoon after she fell from her bicycle, landed underneath a truck and was run over by the vehicle outside Hamlin Park on Chicago's North Side, police said. The victim, Liza Whitacre, was riding south on Damen Avenue with another cyclist, a 24-year-old woman, when they came across the truck and a CTA bus about 12:30 p.m. The 24-year-old, Whitacre's roommate, was able to travel "between" the two vehicles as Whitacre followed, Chicago police said.

But the victim slipped and fell underneath the truck.

"The truck driver was apparently unaware that the woman had fallen underneath," said Officer John Mirabelli, a police spokesman.

The truck then rode over Whitacre, 23, of the 4900 block of North Winthrop Avenue, and she was pronounced dead at Advocate Illinois Masonic Medical Center, officials said.

The operator of the CTA No. 50 Damen Avenue bus was questioned by police as a potential witness to the crash since the bus was in the "vicinity," said Chicago Transit Authority spokeswoman Wanda Taylor.

She did not know if the operator witnessed the crash, but said no CTA buses were involved in it.

Buses traveling along the Damen route were temporarily rerouted around the accident site, Taylor said.

No citations have been issued in the crash, Mirabelli said early this evening.

I've been remiss...

noreply@blogger.com (Da' Square Wheelman,) — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 16:44:00 +0000

but now
I'm back

It's been a hell of a last 9 months or so. Laid off in February, underemployed until just last month. Among other things, the blog has suffered. First it was the general funk that accompanies what became is the worst unemployment experience in my life. I wasn't turned out of my apartment of a decade; nor did I starve. A lot of good, good friends and close acquaintances had my back. Perhaps the depth of our national economic crisis has brought out in the best of folks or maybe after almost 11 years in the same neighborhood I've found my community: I've certainly learned that it takes a village to survive The Great Recession.

Whatever the reason, I did survive. I've back in a full-time job thanks to some very fine folks in the bike community here. It's as the Resource Development Manager for the Bickerdike Redevelopment Corporation. That's a fancy title for grant-writer and all around fund-raiser. Bickerdike is a member-based, non-profit community development corporation that advocates for, builds, and maintains affordable housing in the Latino and African-American neighborhoods on the northwest. That's a big change for all kinds of reasons. But I'm liking both the mission and the organization. It's also exposing to a whole new world in this great, grand city.

Second, nine months is a damned long time. There were days when my own problems coupled with the general mood of the country nearly overwhelmed me. I kept my sanity by riding ... a lot of riding. With a little help from my friends, I put together The 2nd Winston's Tweed Ride on 12 September. A lot of new folks joined us on a Don't Mention the War bummel that ended up at my neighborhood's annual German-American Festival. Get it?

Then a few weeks ago, Sir Aaron heard about a new tweed ride in Grand Rapids, MI. We loaded up the steeds on his cage and headed over for the day! Amanda, the organizer, as well as her small group of tight friends made us very welcome indeed. I don't think we considered the impact two big city gents would make on our country cousins. And let me say, Grand Rapids is a fantastic city. Imagine a slightly smaller version of Milwaukee, with the same turn of the century architecture, surrounded by rolling meadows and gentle hills a few minutes from Lake Michigan. I would seriously consider moving there if the job were right.

Even outside the City of Big Shoulders,
it takes a tweedy village to survive...

9.11.09 & 11.11.1918

noreply@blogger.com (Da' Square Wheelman,) — Fri, 11 Sep 2009 12:18:00 +0000

the eleventh day
and the eleventh hour

Today is the 9th anniversary of 9.11. The very fact I don't have to explain these two numbers reflects the enormity of the attacks particularly in how they changed our lives as well as the world around us.

There is another aspect of this enormity. For there are as many meanings of 9.11 (here as well) as there are people who have felt the impact of the attacks over the last seven years. For example, I photographed this painting by Mirshakarov Akmal during a trip to Tajikistan in 2002. It is his response to 9.11. It alone shows that any attempt I could make to capture the meanings of this event would fall woefully short of the mark.

I've decided to let the enormity of 9.11 speak for itself rather than adding to all words that will be written about it today. What little I will add, can be summed by Wilfred Owen, the most famous of the WWI English trench poets. In the Preface to his book, Poems, Owen wrote,

This book is not about heroes.
English Poetry is not yet fit to speak of them.
Nor is it about deeds or lands, nor anything about glory, honour, dominion or power, except War.
Above all, this book is not concerned with Poetry.
The subject of it is War, and the pity of War.
The Poetry is in the pity.
Yet these elegies are not to this generation,
This is in no sense consolatory.

They may be to the next.
All the poet can do to-day is to warn.
That is why the true Poets must be truthful.
If I thought the letter of this book would last,
I might have used proper names; but if the spirit of it survives Prussia, --
my ambition and those names will be content; for they will have
achieved themselves fresher fields than Flanders.

Owen was killed in action on 4 November 1918 during the crossing of the Sambre-Oise Canal, exactly one week (almost to the hour - the eleventh) before the signing of the Armistice. His mother received the telegram informing her of his death on Armistice Day, as the church bells were ringing out in celebration. He is buried at Ors Communal Cemetery.

The proper anti-freeze...

noreply@blogger.com (Da' Square Wheelman,) — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 11:44:00 +0000

for Chicago
Bikewinter!

5 year old girl killed...

noreply@blogger.com (Da' Square Wheelman,) — Mon, 07 Sep 2009 13:28:00 +0000

by cager
last night

From The Chicago Breaking News Center,

A 5-year-old girl riding her bicycle was struck and killed Sunday evening by a vehicle exiting a West Rogers Park alley, police said.

The girl, Ester Kenig, was riding her bicycle in the 6100 block of North Sacramento Ave. at about 5:30 p.m. when she was struck by the emerging vehicle, police said.

Ester was rushed to St. Francis Hospital in Evanston, where she was later pronounced dead, according to the Cook County medical examiner's office.

The driver, who remained at the scene after the collision, had not received any charges or traffic citations as of late Sunday, police spokeswoman Antoinette Ursitti said.

An autopsy on the girl is scheduled for Monday morning.

Why be conservative?

noreply@blogger.com (Da' Square Wheelman,) — Fri, 04 Sep 2009 10:29:00 +0000

why
not?

I don’t have much faith in my fellow man. In fact, my own conservatism has much to do with the fact that I reject the entire notion of human improvement altogether. Grandiose liberal efforts do not work, not because they are simply led by the wrong kind of men, but because they are led by men, period. “Progressivism” is a great idea. But most progressives can’t balance their checkbooks much less create nirvana. “Feminism” sounds swell. Too bad females are most cruel to other women. “Multiculturalism” is well intentioned. Yet it seems every time different cultures cohabitate it creates more friction than friendship.

I’m a mess too ... I’m awful with money, eat poorly, drink too much and don’t spend enough time with friends and family. But then again, most of those same friends and family are guilty of the same flaws and faults.

Jack Hunter
August 09, 2009

Chicago bikewinter approaches

noreply@blogger.com (Da' Square Wheelman,) — Thu, 03 Sep 2009 11:10:00 +0000

and with it
our 10th Anniversary

To get things rolling, we're aiming to encourage ALL fair-weather bikers within our propaganda's grasp to stay in the saddle through the longest, coldest nights. We'll meet on Tuesday, 22 September, 7 p.m. at the newer Billy Goat - 309 W. Washington (a nod to BW winter meetings of the past), directly following the One Million Less Cars Rally.

The prodigal queen

noreply@blogger.com (Da' Square Wheelman,) — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 11:03:00 +0000

with a little help
from my friends...

...I've found the silver lining in losing that which rolled. As the comments section has shown over the last two weeks, the outpouring of sympathy for my loss is both amazing and gratifying. Enough so that I now have a wonderful replacement.

It might look like the Queen of Scots, my original '53 Lady's Rudge. But it ain't! Now it's The Prodigal Queen. Last May while I was getting the QoS ready for the Lake Pepin 3speed Tour, I discovered that the handlebar stem was seriously bent. With only 48 hours before I headed north I parted most of it out to get that which rolls rolling. It then spent the next few months convalescing on my back porch until I lost its noble brother. The theft, in fact, was a double loss because I didn't have the necessary parts to get it rolling again. And being unemployed, I didn't expect to have it rolling in time for either Winston's DMZV Tweed Ride or The A.B.C.E.

But thanks to Mike Bullis, a fellow 3speed Nutter who lives out near Elgin, I won't be missing either grand gathering. Several days after learning about the theft he emailed me with a wonderful offer: the gift of his 19 inch, '54 Robin Hood, known as The Prodigal Bicycle. It's not only a fitting replacement for my dearly departed '68 Robin Hood.

It comes too with a great story. He's owned it three separate times! He first bought it at the Kane County Flea Market in the mid '80s. Around '96, he sold it to his brother-in-law, who eventually returned it to him in '05. With too many bikes in his garage, Mike loaned it to a local bike shop owner for his Antique Bicycle Display. Then in '08, he was visiting the shop to order some parts. The owner asked him if he wanted it back as he was short on room. Mike replied, Why not?

The Prodigal Bicycle has provided me with everything I needed to revivify the Queen. Its 3speed alloy hub & rim were a particular surprise. I had bought a rather pricey set of rear axle wing-nuts several years ago. But their TPI didn't match my newer hub. Well, they do fit this one! Not only that: the Prodigal came with lovely, chunky, all black rubber tires that, despite their age, are in wonderful condition. They give my new steed the proper commemorative look for a steed that now replaces that which rolls.

I'd also bought a front dyno-bub & rim which, Thank G-d, wasn't on that which rolls although the Lucas Bicycle Lamp was. Again, the Prodigal came to the rescue with a lovely shiny, black Bosch Lamp from Germany. With the expert technical guidance from another local 3speed Nutter, Pirogi John, I successfully wired up the lamp. It's actually the first time it's ever worked and I was able to finish off the entire kit with another pair of axle wing-nuts.

The rest of Mike's Prodigal Bicycle (frame, saddle, drive-train, mudguards, chain-case, and stem set) is safe in my basement locker. I'm going to fully restore it once I'm gainfully employed again. I'm even thinking of making it my year-round commuter bike so I can also restore my '62 Gazelle, Raleigh's precursor to the Robin Hood line. I sincerely hope he approves. When I picked it up last week (thanks to Aaron's handy chauffeur service) Mike said he always thought there was a reason why it kept rolling back to him. I am humbled by his foresight and generosity!

Les bicyclettes...

noreply@blogger.com (Da' Square Wheelman,) — Fri, 21 Aug 2009 11:49:00 +0000

de Belsize

Rolling along

noreply@blogger.com (Da' Square Wheelman,) — Thu, 20 Aug 2009 10:49:00 +0000

our hobo legacy

One thing you'll notice about the bike community in the City of Big Shoulders is diversity. There are hipster beaterbikes, yuppie spandex-wrapped weekend warriors, Latino ice cream vendors, WASPy commuters, freakbikers, teenage BMXers, and more. Although I haven't seen many South Asians, the streets are a celebration of multi-cultural Chicago.

One group I've begun to notice is what I call The Rollers. They rock! They bike for the sheer joy of the ride, everyday in every kind of weather. Rollers are consummate foxes; or even cats, since they know and do a lot of little things about bikes. You might first think their shared passion for bikes qualifies them as hedgehogs. But the diversity of the bikes themselves as well as values and ideologies is so vast that a hedgehog could never accommodate it all with one big idea.

So rollers aren't necessarily anarchists, unless they want to be. If that label is incorrectly applied by motorists and government authorities, it's because rollers flourish on the edges of American society. Their very existence poses a threat to middle class conformity and this seems to really irritate some motorists.

I've had a number of run-ins with motorists who have shouted insults at me as I rolled along ... LEGALLY. Each time I got the distinct impression that I had gravely wounded their sense of middle class propriety. That I might have rolling rights as a legally recognized slow-moving vehicle didn't seem to enter their minds. They either saw me as a big kid on a toy endangering the streets or selfish hobbiest with more time for leisure pursuits than the harried motorists going to work or shuttling the kids to their doctor appointments.

Such thinking isn't all that surprising. In many ways, rolling against middle class conventions is an old, if odd, American tradition. Rollers are the grandsons and granddaughters of the tramps, loafers, and what the French called flaneurs. They're the sons and daughters of hobos, travellers, vagabonds, and backpackers. They're essentially slackers on two wheels. As such they draw the unwelcome attention of police and politicians as much as did their peculiar ancestors.

When the Depression of 1893 threw millions of men and women out of work they hit the roads. State legislatures, as well as business leaders, around the US reacted with horror and enacted highly stringent laws against these tramps. In a surprising response, Governor L. D. Lewelling defended their rights against arbitrary arrest by local police. His Tramp Circular is not only a astonishing reminder of a time when Kansas was progressive but a wonderful statement of why today we have the right to roll along.

The right to go freely from place to place ... in obedience of a mere whim, is part of that personal liberty guaranteed by the Constitution of the United States to every human being on American soil. If voluntary idleness is not forbidden; if a Diogenes prefer poverty; if a Columbus choose hunger and the discovery of a new race, rather than seek personal comfort by engaging in “some legitimate business,” I am aware of no power in the legislature or in city councils to deny; him the right to seek happiness in his own way, so long as he harms no other, rich or poor; but let simple poverty cease to be a crime.

Not that I'm all that comfortable with labeling rollers, Slackers on Two Wheels. In the wrong mouths, labels can be dangerous. If you think that mere words can't harm, remember that J. Edgar Hoover threw stick and stones at the bones of the rollers' ancestors. During WWI, he was a special agent for the newly formed FBI in charge of Slacker Raids. Agents and civilian vigilantes rounded up foreigners, conscientious objectors, left-leaning idealists, and other outsiders for indefinite detention. Although some were certainly spies and draft-dodgers, most were simply expressing their rights to roll against war hysteria.

Today, rollers, whatever their particular values or ideologies, continue to ride for the right to seek happiness in their own way.

that which rolled

noreply@blogger.com (Da' Square Wheelman,) — Fri, 14 Aug 2009 11:20:00 +0000

RIP

The last time I saw that which rolls was Tuesday morning, 11 August. I went out early Tuesday evening. My neighbor and I noticed three teenagers (1 woman and 2 men - not from our neighborhood) hanging around the alley by our fence. The lock on on the alley-side door wasn't working.

You see, I live in a 16 flat, 3 floor building with a common area in the back. It's accessible from the alley and the street with two locked wooden doors. I've installed two bars for locking up bikes on the posts supporting the building's balcony system. They're those bars you find in bathrooms for physically challenged folks. Each is double-screwed to prevent their removal. That which rolls was locked up to one with a cable and U-Lock: U-lock thru front wheel and down tube, cable through back wheel and u-lock. All are gone now...

Robot cars...

noreply@blogger.com (Da' Square Wheelman,) — Thu, 13 Aug 2009 13:03:00 +0000

versus
freedom for technology

The Intelligent Life, the quarterly mag of The Economist, has a fascinating article on the automation of cars. In When Drivers Are Passengers Paul Markillie describes the trend toward cars that drive themselves. While he believes that this could make them safer, he has

... a niggling worry that it could make some drivers lazy and less attentive. If your car can park itself, why bother becoming familiar with its dimensions and learning how to manoeuvre it correctly? Why bother braking when the car will do it for you? ... Accidents will happen, and inevitably it will lead to more drivers blaming the car itself.

Isn't this another good argument for biking? Bikes put you smack dab in the middle of the world. Cagers, on the other hand, are dangerously isolated and, increasingly it seems, less free to interact with their surroundings. It's ironic that the great American icon of mobile freedom is slowly being replaced by our low tech alternative.

Bikers behaving badly?

noreply@blogger.com (Da' Square Wheelman,) — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 10:56:00 +0000

Boston responds...

Know when to fold 'em!

noreply@blogger.com (Da' Square Wheelman,) — Fri, 07 Aug 2009 10:15:00 +0000

Dominic Hargreaves's
The Contortionist...

has been shortlisted for this year's £10,000 James Dyson Award for innovation. The 24-year-old, from Battersea, London, said he wanted to create a decent folding bike after the one he was using collapsed.

I couldn't find a folding bicycle I liked. I wanted something that could take a bit of punishment and that you could have fun with. So I made one myself.

Odes to a bicycle bell

noreply@blogger.com (Da' Square Wheelman,) — Thu, 06 Aug 2009 10:37:00 +0000

you only exist
as sound

Thanks to local Pittsburgh artists, Eric "Erok” Boerer and Teresa Foley, you can now have a bike bell ringtone. It's free and according to Erok, I’ve noticed that bike bells tend to bring smiles to people’s faces. No matter what happens, when you ring that bell, people get a kick out of it. It's also the most popular ringtone - 300 downloads and counting - on Foley's new website, Locally Toned. With a $1,000 grant from the Fine Foundation as well as support from other Pittsburgh-based art groups, it offers a great selection of novel ringtones with a local connection that is essentially an experiment in creating public art.

And while your waiting for the ringtone to arrive by text message, check out this simple little ode to the bike bell over at Copenhagenize: The bicycle bell/beams, happy/and round, a little/brain without power:/touch me, please touch/you only exist as sound.