No riding today: blah gray sky, melting snow. The trails are probably total muck. (I am going to overhaul my Mavic rear hub and go for a road ride, though. Wish me luck.)
In the meantime I’ve been lying around reading the New York Times Magazine from last Sunday–specifically the article “Things To Do in Cyberspace When You’re Dead.” (It’s either that or watch an NFL playoff game, or clean the garage.)
The article asks the fascinating question: what happens to our digital lives when we die?
I know: how macabre, sordid and depressing. And not related to biking.
But still, I wonder: what will happen if I keep writing this blog–a kind of focused recollection of my life–until I die? (At the age of 113, I hope. Hayzeus, this post is getting weird, bringing me down, man.) Who will own it? Would it be important for someone to keep it intact or should it be left alone, and someday forgotten forever?
And if this blog thing–for me, for anyone–is a kind of memoir, is the future of memoir and life story not narrative-based, but technological? I can see it now: I wrote my memoir on FaceBook, Twitter, with images on Flickr and Vimeo and such. My tax returns can be found on irs.gov, and my doctor’s reports are on the XYZ Health Plan website. You can buy my book, which is not a book, per se, but actually a program that sucks up all this information and posits it in a PowerPoint in date order. Enjoy!)
Surely we are not at that place yet, and yet as I contemplate my life via biking, which is my current-life memoir, to be sure, I see the truth of it. I don’t have to write a book. I am writing it now. And it may even last forever. Each ride, each musing, each image of trail and rock, trees and sun. (With or without readers, which is the writer’s most true question, isn’t it?)
PS: For some reason this song is blowing through my mind. I guess it’s that one line: Is anybody out there?