Blooming Plums and a Broken Tripod… My Kinda Day - MuniQ 28/Feb/2026

The plum trees are starting to bloom, so it’s a perfect day for more mountain unicycle practice! But of course… today’s chaos was… My GorillaPod totally fell apart mid‑shoot. Oopsie… Gear I’m Riding - Unicycle: Nimbus Oracle 26 - Brake: Shimano XTR 9100 - Saddle: Kris Holm Fusion One - Handle: Kris Holm T-Bar Handle Filming & Editing - Camera: GoPro MAX 2 - Editing: Adobe Premiere Pro Music & Audio - DAW: Tracktion Waveform 13 - Vocal Synth: Synthesizer V Studio 2 Pro (HXVOC on vocals) - Audio Interface: IK Multimedia AXE I/O - Guitar: ZEP-II CUSTOM with DiMarzio DP226 Billy Corgan Model BC-2 - Keyboard: KORG microKEY Air #mountainunicycle #fail #unicycle #trailriding #gopromax2 #hxvoc #synthesizerv #synthesizervオリジナル曲 #ボカロ #originalsong [Lyrics] He ran on a promise that never lived, a blank‑page ballot, spun the wheels of a political carousel, now we’re stuck in the static. The nation’s eyes were glazed, a dizzy daze, the media spun the tale, while the crowd cheered “again!” — the same old song on an auto‑tuned rail. “Hey you, you’re a donkey, you’re a fool, you’re a pawn —” the soundtrack of the screen is the scream of a marathon. We swallow the propaganda like sugar‑coated syrup, but the truth’s a bolt that’s ready to break the lock‑up. Ride the mountain unicycle, single‑track rebellion, spin the cycle of the spiral. One wheel, one will, one voice — no more silent silk, crank the crank, break the chain, melt the tyrant’s milk. Throttle back eagle is caged, The buds of cherry blossom fades, the patriot‑pistols fire fireworks of idiot‑parades. The media‑madness feeds us fast‑food lies, while the elite sip champagne and watch the planet die. “What’s the value of a vote when the ballot’s a joke? When the puppet masters pull strings and we’re choking on the smoke? I’m not a soldier in the gilded war, I’m a rider on a single‑track tire, spinning resistance on a mountain uni that never tires.” Crunch, clang, bearings snarls, the cogs of revolt grind, the system snarls. No more American‑dream‑haze, no Tokyo‑neon‑maze, just the metal‑heart of a wheel that won’t be fazed. Ride the mountain unicycle, single‑track rebellion, spin the cycle of the spiral. One wheel, one will, one voice — no more silent silk, crank the crank, break the chain, melt the tyrant’s milk.