Keith Snyder

Tickets to the August 25 NYC premiere of I LOVE YOU, I'M SORRY, AND I'LL NEVER DO IT AGAIN are still available for $12. Those details, again.
The post-premiere hang may be at Ulysses, which was recommended in reponse to my post on Chowhound, but I haven't made it over there yet to check it out.
I came very close to becoming a gutter bunny at a yard sale Thursday morning, when some moron was looking down and trying to flip one of the stock Dahon Matrix pedals into the correct orientation under his right foot, and the passenger of a van parked on the left side of (the aforementioned) 2nd Ave. damn near doored him.

So when after weeks of ordering them online, and getting one "out of stock" notice after another, my FUNN Soljam Vipers showed up Friday, the likelihood of my living to see grandchildren rose significantly, as did the happiness indicator on my geek chart.

They got installed yesterday. They're big. They're heavy. They're chunky. They've got 3mm pegs. They've got a grip panel like 80-grit industrial sandpaper. Unlike pedals intended to be used with toe clips, they're top/bottom symmetrical, so it doesn't matter which side you step down on. They're black.

Next I have to get the right shoes. I'm thinking either a rugged walker or a light hiking shoe.

Did I mention I'm learning to ride like a bike messenger?

Maybe I should leave that detail out.
The city of New York is insane for including 2nd Avenue on its official bike route map as a "Class 3, Greenway Connector, on-street signed route, link to greenway."

That's what the purple means. It shouldn't be purple. It shouldn't be anything, because this is not a bike route; it's a reflex test.
The Expedit wall unit that inspired my letter to Ikea (which still brings in a steady flow of page hits, though it's been a while since the last 10,000-hit day) sits empty and forlorn in the apartment. Kathleen hates it and is sending it away.
The friend who wanted to buy my cheap Trek hybrid with the expensive aftermarket stuff bolted to it decided otherwise, so now I'm not sure what to do with it. I need to reclaim that space for the road bike I'll be buying some time in July so I can get used to it in time for the North Fork Century. Craigslist, I guess. If you're in NYC and want to buy a used Trek 7000 with Eggbeaters, a nice saddle, an extra set of wheels (currently clad in Nokian studded snow tires), a sturdy rack rated for 50 pounds, panniers with laptop pouch and rain covers, a recent tuneup and new rear axle, and probably a dozen things I'm not recalling at the moment, drop me a line.
200 words written yesterday, another 200 today. This is the only progress worth mentioning on the novel since 2006, and it may not even be worth mentioning. I need to start waking up at 4:00 AM and arriving in the city on bike by around 6:00 if I'm going to get back into any kind of non-self-delusional writing schedule. And I have to figure out how to add my laptop to a carrying system that's already causing rotator cuff pain.
Got a very complimentary rejection letter that I actually believed for a short story called ARMORED. It'll go out someplace else once I figure out what other paying market might want it. It's a dark story, but it's quiet. It'll eventually land somewhere good.
I'm reading again. I finished CASE HISTORIES and LONESOME DOVE, and a few days ago I started THE YIDDISH POLICEMEN'S UNION. The gear-geek columns in BICYCLING magazine don't count.

Did I mention my pedals?

Keith Snyder Door always open.
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