Fresno Famous

I've thought about writing a personal letter to the gentleman in question.
But, they always say, why send flowers when somebody dies or is sick?
or why say a bunch of nice stuff when somebody is gone?
--when they would have liked to hear it, you know, before they went paws up?

(In this case, hopefully many years pre-paws up.)

I've been in the dusty grape for a little over 15 months. (I think.)

Having come on the scene under very odd circumstances, I found myself finally falling in with bicyclists.

Bicyclists are not bad people. (really, they aren't I myself am a bicyclist, and that has not tainted my view of other bicyclists in the lest... just because we drool over simple, sometimes deadly pieces of machinery, and enjoy rappping our knuckles and getting all greasey while working on sharp gears and stripped nuts and bolts does not make us weirder than anyone else... Just because we like playing in traffic and refuse to pollute the air with car exhaust (if we can help it,) -but choose instead to stink up the place with our perspiration and exhaled cotton mouths does not make us better nor worse than the rest of 'acceptable,' society...

Just because we don't even notice women unless they're on a bicycle, (or if we do, think... hmmm, wonder what she'd look like on a singlespeed???
Does not make us a menace...
I myself, have had many a conversation with people who do not own bicycles...
(it takes at least one to find out if they do not, and you need to politely excuse youself and hit the door..)

Among these people are the few, the humble, the (occasionally shaved head,) the obsessed, the recently (somewhat fit,) the extremely fast, the smiling, and (to be honest,) slightly touched members that are to be exalted.

Sometimes they have other talents.
Sometimes they are obsessed with things besides bicycles and members of the opposite sex that are, um, easy on the eyes...
Sometimes they are huge fans of documenting all that they see, feel, and think with cameras.

Some of them simply can light up a room by being there...
(this would be shortly after sitting in the middle of a crowded street, almost getting splattered by dodge omni's, just to take pictures of people with their bicycles in front of a wall...
---or a spectacular photo essay about (godknowswhat,)
or the (ahem,) obscenely sheer effect of bike racers in lycra, sitting on a saddle... (sorry, don't think we can forgive the shot of the dude with the package sitting on a racing bike... jeeez is that intimidating... ugh...)

One man stands out in this crowd.
Kurtz.

I met Kurtz, um, uh... well, I met him.
Not sure where.
Maybe it was at Bens.
But Kurtz was smiling, professional, very good natured, and a man of integrity.

He had recently announced that he has gone from couch slug to fit and trim and able to play chicken with a bullett train, (and win,) ---and had no intention of stopping there.

Legend has it that one night I think he actually made a pretty decent sum pedalling his arse, (as well as the hefty arses of two patrons,) up the spiralling ramp of the building downtown,,, -just because he was willing to try.

Kurtz wears proper wool socks and riding gear for cyclists.
He's a tribute to the breed.
He's not the least bit effeminant (effeminate??? effe... er, faggy,) when wearing said costumes, and has brought respectability to cycling (on the road,) at the strangest times.

-You will find him pedalling around one of the yellow pedicabs during both high brow, (and unibrow,) events downtown.
-You will find him wandering back at dusk, like a lonely hansom cab driver, taking his trusty steed and decorated ride, back to the stables, like his more equine based brothers and sisters of Central Park...
-You will find him off in the distance, blinking away, (the yellow lights, not him,) and you will raise your arm, holler out:
-'oy, kurtz,' when in the presence of a lady that you wish to impress,
turn to and say, '...that's Kurtz, one of the pedicab guys, he's an excellent photographer, great guy.'
-Kurtz will wave back and smile, ---she grins,,, and your world will spin right.
Kurtz is excellent like that.

-Kurtz will find you in a crowd, he will shake hands, ask you your'e doing and actually mean it.
-Kurtz will find the most remote, ---or the most expansive social event, photograph it, and bring it to glory...
-This man has nearly singlehandedly brought Bike Hop, Critical Mass, and the Smog City Rollergrrls on the visual map...
He documents and celebrates all who he is around... and this is a good thing.

Thanks to his bicycle obsession, and pedicab efforts, I am hearing that he can also break the soundbarrier on a rather humble 'track bike clone,' and has been occasionally chased by the local national guard F-18's as a UFO, and still manages to elude them, (and light up the odd butt in the name of commeraderie, (I think... he may be a smoker, he may not be a smoker, it may have all been just steam...)

Kurtz and I may have different beliefs.
That's okay.
Kurtz has a way of putting his point across in ways that are funny, direct hitting, and making of others to think...
-I did, infact ask my priest if we could project NASCAR on the wall behind the altar on sunday... he thought about it for a few minutes... and said '...well,,, Eric,,, I dunnno.' ----which isn't exactly a green light, -but it's not being excommunicated either..

He has an eye for beauty, and humor... and can capture the soul of anyone with his camera.
-and that, dear reader is not learned... (it is also not exactly encouraged by various subgroups who have been saying for generations that camera's capture souls... which means that there is a price on his head... but it's a good price...)
No this gift, you can groom it, but you either have it or you do not...
Kurtz does.

Kurtz has done more for this town and documented the genuine soul of his haunts, and has done so with unwavering honesty.
The sweet parts do not require insulin.
The bitter, sad, or angry parts do not require explaination, nor apology.
Kurtz is an honest artist.
His work will stand. Straight, no Chaser.
His women will be forever beautiful.
This town has been captured in time.
The spirit of the place will be able for all to see. And that is what every photographer wants to accomplish....

Even if Kurtz was a worthless slug on a cabbage leave stuck somewhere in a dumpster behind a house of ill-repute, covered in used cat litter and worthy of a biohazard bottle, (which he's not,)
-I'd still like him, and be glad to have met him.
Why?

He respects people.
He's genuine.
He thinks.
He's not mean.
He's optimistic without being vapid.
He's the real deal.
He comes across just as happy to see you, as you are to see him, and no matter what you do, (even if it's nothing at all,)you get the impression that he's one hundred percent behind your effort, and thinks you're just the right man for the job...
Kurtz builds pride and decency with how he talks to you, and even the most conservative church goer will turn and say at the mention of Kurtz's name, '...damn glad to know him. he's a fine man, and not too shabby a dresser... particularlly with those red socks and wool knickers...'
-that doesn't even raise an eyebrow at the local VFW,
-cause folks know that Kurtz is as honest as the day is long, and true blue, (or whatever color he happens to be after pedalling like, 125 miles at 70mph with to really beefy fellow members of society in the back of the cab.)

When you move to a strange place, (and believe me, reader, I don't have to tell you how strange Fresburg is,)
-you notice who you meet, and you watch your friends and associates with a keen eye... (you never know who may want to swipe your Peter Gabriel Records...)

And, having sized up the lot of Fresno in these 15 months, I can honestly say that this fine oxygen consumer and walker up on two legs, is a good man, is a great person to know, you know, distantly, not in a biblical sense...
and will, (in all likelyhood,,, barring the odd human sacrifices,)-progress to be a great blessing amidst any society that he finds himself within...
(hopefully taking snaps for the folks back home to look at and say: 'whufff, will you look at that... she's got blue hair, but what a hottie, and the bike ain't bad either... -when did Kurtz start hangin out on Mars?...'

Kurtz: with all due respect,
-know that from the bottom of my creaky, furry, cruiser riding NJ-NY-PA. heart:
-on the cusp of this holiday season:

Godspeed You Black Emperor... be ye in flight or at rest.

(yeah, yeah, I know.... you aren't black... BUT it's such a cool freakin' phrase... and who else am I gonna use it on,,,
-Ben????
(-Bens the Dude... and the dude abides...)

Kurtz, however, is a wonderul blend of Brassai, Hunter S. Thompson, and Louis Armstrong...
Vive le Kurtz.

(...don't die too soon,,,, I doubt I'll be able to write a better eulogy...)

So find a mate, settle down, raise a few little kurtz's get them off of training wheels asap, let them follow their dream, and terrorize future generations...
Wishing you all things most cool.

pax, and thanks,
word to yer Momma.

-Eric