Biking

So recently, with all the coronastuffs that have been happening, I started biking much more seriously than before. I've been biking to other towns with a friend, and we take those country roads with almost no traffic. Its great to be able to forget all the things that are happening right now and escape into the 'countryside' where almost all you can see is the sky and tilled cornfields.

Amusingly, we don't need a GPS because on flat terrain like Illinois', nothing is impeding you from locating each town's water tower. 

On our first escapade, we went to Mahomet, about 16 miles away from where we started. on the outskirts of Mahomet, there's this one pretty big hill, with a road that runs south and north on it. Going into Mahomet was a breeze, because the wind was with us the entire time. This of course meant that the entire way back was going to be hell, as the wind started picking up as the day went by.

But have y'all ever ridden a bike downhill, peddling as fast as you can, with the wind against you?

This poem, "Bike Ride" by Jelisa Jeffery explains it.

I went down a hill on my bike,
It was fun.

The air in my hair,
Although my hair is quite short,
I could feel it.

I opened my eyes so the wind
Would meet them
And then slide to the corners
And off of my cheek.

There was a feeling of aloneness,
but a good one.
My partner was up ahead of me,
But ahead enough I could ignore they were there
For just a moment
And I could have sworn
I was flying.

The like "a feeling of aloneness /  but a good one" really resonated with me because it's really true. It's especially true around here because there (depressingly) really is nothing around these parts. Its just you, your bike, the cornfields, and the sky.

And that's a great feeling until you crash into a ditch!

PTSD

I think for the majority of us, PTSD isn't really something we can relate to. I can't imagine up a traumatic memory and explore the world pretending to be someone with PTSD. In that sense, their world is unfamiliar to us. In a short series of Haikus, Alan Pelaez Lopez, describes dreams he has of a past memories, titled "Zapotec Crossers (or, Haiku I Write Post-PTSD Nightmares)":

i

Waves smack the body,
Nayeli, seven, drowning.
Spring: crossing season.

ii

Summer indicates
the migration will be “safe.”
Yej Susen, three, sprints.

iii

Inda Jani, one,
knows to crawl under the fence — 
she was trained all fall.

iv

At four ai-em, Yao,
twelve, is sewn inside car seat;
winter will protect.

v
Itzel, five, plays dead.
Border patrol agents see
her body — they leave.

It leaves a frightening image in your head, where these young kids have to cross the border in various ways- obviously in ways that will probably leave a lasting effect on them for the rest of their lives.

Argentine epic

El Gaucho Martín Fierro is a 2,316-line epic poem by the Argentine writer José Hernández, written in 1872. It is widely seen as the pinnacle of the genre of "gauchesque" poetry, poetry surrounding the life of the "Gaucho"- think of them sort of like South American cowboys, but with a much deeper culture. This poem helps paint a picture of their culture and history, as they were very important in the independence of the lower-south American countries.  The epic has appeared in hundreds of editions and has been translated into over 70 languages.

The epic is crazy, and there's a lot that happens.

It starts off with a simple Gaucho, Martin Fierro. He's a chill guy, living a chill life on a chill ranch with his chill family. He likes going down to the local equivalent of a bar/store and singing to the other gauchos. Most of his singing is all about how the Gauchos are being mistreated and discriminated against.
While singing at the bar one day, there is a raid and Martin is captured. The judge, on the basis that Martin never voted, but obviously because he didn't like Gauchos, sends Martin to fight at the Argentine border in a small fort against the indians.
He is forced to fight, but one day during an indian raid he escapes on horse, spending the next year as a fugitive. He's captured again, punished, and sent back to fight. A drunken soldier shoots him, but our boy is unhurt and he decides, yet again, to escape. It takes him three years, but he finally makes it back home!
...Only to find that his home and family are long gone.
He's obviously still being persecuted, and he lives like an outlaw. He kills two people at some party over a dispute, and then during a fight with policemen, he somehow manages to befriend one, and they escape together to live with some indians.

The end.

But not really! A second book continues their journey, called La Vuelta de Martín Fierro, or The return of Martin Fierro.
We learn that it went pretty horribly for them. The indians believe they are spies, but they are saved at the last minute by their chief. Here we see that the indians had been fighting disease, and after not having been able to find a cure, they have taken their wrath on people they thought started it.
The policeman friend and the chief both die shortly afterwards.
At the grave of his friend, Martin hears the cry of some woman, who he meets and learns that she has been accused of bewitching her son, who died. Her captor tied her up in the entrails of her son. Thats a nice picture, right?
He escapes with her, drops her off at some ranch, finds his two surviving sons, the son of his policeman friend, and ultimately has a standoff with the younger brother of a guy he had killed previously. In the end, he swears to live his life peacefully, but what happens in the standoff is never clear.

The epic dives deep into gaucho culture and speaking patterns, and is quite a different read than 'old spanish' poems. Think of like and old english writer who uses "ye" and adds "-eth"s to the end of words suddenly use "y'all" and "s'cuse me" for a few verses. It would throw you for a loop.

anyways, here's the project gutenberg thing for the epic:
http://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/14765/pg14765-images.html