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Archive for July, 2013

Racing into their role and between shadow, Ninja’s served It’s master from It’s beginning. I’m uncertain of how Shinto influenced Japanese motorcycle engineers while designing this machine, but I am going to assume the two-hundred and fifty r’s a poetic thing.

An indicated speed of one hundred and thirty miles an hour, and reaching maximum R,P.M tolerance between thirteen-thousand R.P.M.s, I’m intrigued. All those numbers resembling my street address but without that last matching digit. Under these circumstances, I crunched some numbers, but didn’t equate all variable, as a result of my lack of mechanical math. I concluded existing significance after making calculations from the dyne unit. Though those units didn’t aid in determining total output horsepower, I discovered from an internet source the two-cylinder engine produces 37 horsepower before the transmission’s added. I did discover those digits within the horsepower.

Because many numbers from this machine resemble common variable from our physical world, I wonder if those engineers designed this according to America’s standards of a legal motorcycle. According to those standards this machine and I feel I harmonize with this design. The machines not to small, and I’m not too large. According to Wikipedia, the two-hundred and fifty r’s always manufactured within the same measurements. Each piston cylinder operates within a 139-180 pound pressure. Each plug detonates an estimated one-hundred and eighty times per minute. I’m certain many sub-culture  practitioner recognize the number one, eight, seven. That number’s the product of thirteen point seven squared, and one of the repetitive numbers within this machine’s design. This design can serve as perfect example of how society and culture influence other members of society through the economy. I won’t dare imagine why this machine needs change, but somewhere, somehow most things under like circumstance, change. Seriously! The manufactures tire size included the numbers thirteen, and thirty-seven D. I’m assuming the D’s for recognition of certain Japanese tire manufacturer. I’m wondering if I’ll need to jump through hoops to appease the expectations of the designer. Despite the machine’s character.

My imagination goes rampant. Generating idea under the wing of this beast’s existence. My point is, If Japan lives designing  for our standards of comfort, what aren’t we doing. I’d allow them to design my word-processor if I knew they’d make sense. I couldn’t tell you how fucking long I’ve used it’s as a possessive form of a pronoun with no writing errors detected. Today, I’m thinking all that changed.

I’ve never been to Japan, but because my name’s seen in a Japan race oriented American film, I question if Asians do America better. If I need to argue in America about constitutional standards of measurement or because of an unacceptable word-processor, an Asian country’s the place to serve. Considering they’ve giving me things I’m supposed to get from my nation. Maybe it’s a Shinto belief thing?Maybe it’s a Kawasaki thing? I’m still not certain this machine fits that spying perpetrator’s description. I really don’t want to exaggerate the thing.

To all the bloggers I love: If the shoe fits, wear it.

2006 Ninja 250r

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Coincidentally, the Tsarnaev’s ventured out dropping uncanny packages off around the streets of Boston. April’s a time for people to exercises faith in the resurrection, unless of course, those people failed during the task of seeing the macro tragedy. A couple people’s lives are gone, and some people might never recover as a result of those surprise sacks they stood by.

I’m still convinced some facts about that event are being hidden from the general-public. I’ll bet Nadine never thought she might be part of a grand fabrication during that particular month. I suppose I’m not ready to write about my reaction to that day. I’ve waited this long to consider any attempt. From the champion’s throne, to Laurel Street, to the dead Tsarvaev’s ex-girl friend. I wonder if those people existed in that town. After seeing association between entertainment media, my name and the things expected of a classless American society, I’m trying not to let my imagination to conjure stereotypical perceptions of me and the things allowing me to assume things within accordance of me.

Why Boston, why a place someone’s destined to wear some form of swag in regard of their accomplishments. Can part of my inquiries be reconciled based on an assumption some bombers stereotype all athletes as being enhancement supplement users. Perhaps those bombers thought maybe electrolytes enhance endurance, but can only be snorted or intoxicating, when not running 50 miles, uninterrupted. Maybe only Celtic(Boston) posses superhuman ability. consider the title third world, and note class stratification. Maybe more American entertainment intends  considering  all things Garland for rectifying an Anarchist class of people. If that’s not my problem already.

This post’s not a perfect rendering of my reaction of our Boston tragedy. Maybe if those entities intend to make an example of those macro things people take for granted, and I become a subject, I get warned prior of any and all extreme situations. If extreme things target me because the guys with the guns , despite using my stuff don’t play according to the rules, I’m going need to know.

To all the bloggers I love; some things only appear coincidental, others are usually another form of sarcasm or a part of an oozing ego. let’s pray Americans aren’t targeted because  too many Americans possess co-dependencies.

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In this garden‘s space for every fruit of this garden’s maker’s seed. Though within this space, a place for a thing, beast fail to defile. be the reason because of compassion, or lack of will toward the act of plundering your beauty. Within the space, only negated opportunity to imagine a thing of bliss and delight. For that beauty I don’t dare garrison our sanctuary for the selfish want of  this world ‘s beneficial decor. From mine hand flow not your essence because I’ll never subject seed not of my own to the thing compelling me. That deed‘s a deed for things in need of undaunted reward. Place thee, yourself hither to allow dreams  intended of dreamers. As fruit coveted not, beast nor beauty deserve space for withering. If never thou wither, our want’s a thing everlasting. Though thou dismissed my intent a thing willed to minds of the forgetful. Deed and misdeed’s an act of actors. For being a contradiction to discourse your space remains for your occupancy. Because in the eye of the beholder, I’m observed sinner and not accused of defilement.

In my garden thou shall find pleasantries as only liberated desire lead thee. For confession we exist between love and hate, did, did not, is, is not, dead, living, and undying inhabitants. If, and when you see your face here, believe believer’s opened the gate beckoning not. believe you self-indulgence.  For unity restrain beauty and beast by the vine of one accord. For beauty, beast ravages our inhibition’s sanctity. For beast, beauty need not anything from savage retribution. Though we’re yet outside the gate of resolution.  If I imagine another thing and discover myself without my own imaginings, let me stand as a marauder of the maker’s garden. For that beauty I imagined, but for the beast the marauder invaded.

SCAN0015

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