Finding My Own Road, on Dispatch from the Razor's Edge

"Travel writing, I once observed elsewhere, is the most accommodating – one might say the most promiscuous – of all genres. Write a book or essay that might otherwise be catalogued under memoir, humor, anthropology, or natural history, and as long as you leave the property at some point, you can call it travel writing."
- Bill Bryson, Best American Travel Writing 2000

Tried out my new MP3 player today. I can't really recommend this device – a Treo 10 with somewhat limited (and frequently perverse) functionality, it's basically a 10GB hard drive with headphones – but I got it for free from my web hosting provider as a thank-you gift for referring my clients to them. So, it's a nice boon. My workouts, as it happens, have always pretty much been hostage to local DJs. That is to say, a little White Zombie or Live comes on, and I'm kicking ass. A lineup of ear dross, and I'm dead in the water. I've also been getting a little sick of static, commercials, etc. So, last week, I ripped my entire CD collection (with the obvious exception of all the annoying bits). Now I've got 1,250 songs on my hard drive – AND I LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM. Muhahahaha. From that, I isolated a subset with high energy and up tempos, for workouts; now I've got 35 hours of thrashing exercise music in the palm of my hand.

Incidentally, since I now won't even be listening to broadcast (or even Internet) radio while working out – and of course I'm still erecting a hugely effective barrier between me and the other people in the gym, on the mountain, etc. – I reckon this qualifies as another big step down my road toward becoming one of the Freemen of the Internet.

Moreover, I now take all my music with me when I skedaddle on out of here – adding a gross weight to my luggage of 0lb 0oz, and addtional volume of 0 cubic inches. Also as a result of this, I went and sold back half my CDs. I even sold some books – the pile I've never gotten to, and (in honest moments) knew I was never going to. (DeLillo's Underworld, anyone? In hardcover?) I also dumped three fourths of the minor mountain of computer books.

On the way back from the gym, I found myself shouting at squirrels again. The Stanford campus is full of this race of death-taunting squirrels who, I swear, LINE UP at the edges of the bicycle/pedestrian paths, wait for your approach, and then just DART right out in front of you. I swear to God, it's a contest to see who can wait until the last minute to sprint out under your wheel. My only defense against becoming a killer/maimer is to keep my hands on the brakes – and to shout at the little bastards a lot. Right after such a bout of shouting, I came upon an intersection of path and roads – one of the several that I customarily blow right through, pedalling full out. (My position is that this is a college campus, and the damned motorists can yield.) And today, as I blew on out in front of advancing cars, I realized: I'm one of the squirrels.

my exodus mp3 players running

Dispatch from the Razor's Edge is owned and operated by novelist, technologist, vegan, exercise junkie, classical liberal, rambler, and Londoner Michael Stephen Fuchs.

Fuchs is the author of the novels The Manuscript and Pandora's Sisters, both published worldwide by Macmillan in hardback, paperback and all e-book formats (and in translation); the D-Boys series of high-tech, high-concept, spec-ops military adventure novels – D-Boys, Counter-Assault, and Close Quarters Battle (coming in 2016); and is co-author, with Glynn James, of the bestselling Arisen series of special-operations military ZA novels. The second nicest thing anyone has ever said about his work was: "Fuchs seems to operate on the narrative principle of 'when in doubt put in a firefight'." (Kirkus Reviews, more here.)

Fuchs was born in New York; schooled in Virginia (UVa); and later emigrated to the San Francisco Bay Area, where he lived through the dot-com boom. Subsequently he decamped for an extended period of tramping before finally rocking up in London, where he now makes his home. He does a lot of travel blogging, most recently of some very long walks around the British Isles. He's been writing and developing for the web since 1994 and shows no particularly hopeful signs of stopping.

You can reach him on .

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Dispatch from the Razor's Edge is owned and operated by novelist, technologist, vegan, exercise junkie, classical liberal, rambler, and Londoner Michael Stephen Fuchs.


2023 >> 2022 >> 2021 >> 2020 >> 2019 >> 2018 >> 2017 >> 2016 >> 2015 >> 2014 >> 2013 >> 2012 >> 2011 >> 2010 >> 2009 >> 2008 >> 2007 >> 2006 >> 2005 >> 2004 >> 2003 >> 2002-12-20 2002-12-18 2002-12-17 2002-12-16 2002-12-15 2002-12-13 2002-12-12 2002-12-10 2002-12-06 2002-12-03 2002-11-28 2002-11-26 2002-11-24 2002-11-21 2002-11-20 2002-11-19 2002-11-16 2002-11-14 2002-11-12 2002-11-08 2002-11-07 2002-11-04 2002-11-02 2002-11-01 2002-10-31 2002-10-30 2002-10-28 2002-10-26 2002-10-24 2002-10-03 2002-10-02 2002-09-21 2002-09-18 2002-09-15 2002-09-11 2002-08-26 2002-08-20 2002-08-15 2002-08-07 2002-08-01 2002-07-27 2002-07-22 2002-07-20 2002-07-17 2002-07-14 2002-07-13 2002-07-11 2002-07-09 2002-07-06 2002-07-04	Finding My Own Road "Travel writing, I once observed elsewhere, is the most accommodating – one might say the most promiscuous – of all genres. Write a book or essay that might otherwise be catalogued under memoir, humor, anthropology, or natural history, and as long as you leave the property at some point, you can call it travel writing." - Bill Bryson, Best American Travel Writing 2000 Tried out my new MP3 player today. I can't really recommend this device – a Treo 10 with somewhat limited (and frequently perverse) functionality, it's basically a 10GB hard drive with headphones – but I got it for free from my web hosting provider as a thank-you gift for referring my clients to them. So, it's a nice boon. My workouts, as it happens, have always pretty much been hostage to local DJs. That is to say, a little White Zombie or Live comes on, and I'm kicking ass. A lineup of ear dross, and I'm dead in the water. I've also been getting a little sick of static, commercials, etc. So, last week, I ripped my entire CD collection (with the obvious exception of all the annoying bits). Now I've got 1,250 songs on my hard drive – AND I LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM. Muhahahaha. From that, I isolated a subset with high energy and up tempos, for workouts; now I've got 35 hours of thrashing exercise music in the palm of my hand. Incidentally, since I now won't even be listening to broadcast (or even Internet) radio while working out – and of course I'm still erecting a hugely effective barrier between me and the other people in the gym, on the mountain, etc. – I reckon this qualifies as another big step down my road toward becoming one of the Freemen of the Internet. Moreover, I now take all my music with me when I skedaddle on out of here – adding a gross weight to my luggage of 0lb 0oz, and addtional volume of 0 cubic inches. Also as a result of this, I went and sold back half my CDs. I even sold some books – the pile I've never gotten to, and (in honest moments) knew I was never going to. (DeLillo's Underworld, anyone? In hardcover?) I also dumped three fourths of the minor mountain of computer books. On the way back from the gym, I found myself shouting at squirrels again. The Stanford campus is full of this race of death-taunting squirrels who, I swear, LINE UP at the edges of the bicycle/pedestrian paths, wait for your approach, and then just DART right out in front of you. I swear to God, it's a contest to see who can wait until the last minute to sprint out under your wheel. My only defense against becoming a killer/maimer is to keep my hands on the brakes – and to shout at the little bastards a lot. Right after such a bout of shouting, I came upon an intersection of path and roads – one of the several that I customarily blow right through, pedalling full out. (My position is that this is a college campus, and the damned motorists can yield.) And today, as I blew on out in front of advancing cars, I realized: I'm one of the squirrels. Tweet my exodus mp3 players running ← before \| contribute comment ↓ \| after →