952.6.
It's only when I DON'T ride for a few days that my legs seem to get sore. More stretching than usual this morning, trying to get that lower-back thing straightened out. New gloves are nice, but a little tight, causing a tiny bit of pinky-numbness. Extra taillight on the backpack makes me feel a little more secure. One cycloid passed me on 116, but I kept in sight at least for a couple of miles. Other than that, a very leisurely ride in this morning. Crisp and clear, other than on those traffic-heavy parts of 116, Smoggy Point, Redwood Highway. Wish I could avoid that, but it's not really possible, and I am avoiding as much as I can by the routes I take.
Bike all tuned up; good for another 300, one hopes. REALLY want to get the flat-proof tires.
Drinking large on Friday night, leaving me hung-over and enthused-under for bachelor party (which, really, c'mon, I'm over 40, so no wild debauch is necessary or even desirable!). Got to see some guys I hadn't seen in a while, did a little bit of music (including the 30-minute D-chord that kept threatening to turn into "Inna-Gadda-Da-Vida"...), ate a TON of really good sushi, drank two or three real beers among several N/A beers, and was pretty much done by 8 or 9. Hope my best man felt like he got his money's worth...
A really sort of odd thing came out towards the end there, where he (the best man) noted that even though he knew it was "politically incorrect" and all, he "hates fags." I've known him... what? 20 years or more? ...and I'm sure this topic has come up before, but I always thought he was relatively "tolerant" and at least logical about it. I was stunned for a moment, and then just changed the subject after a silence of some 30 seconds - what are you gonna do? (I'd already noted that I don't have any problem with gay people of any stripe, and though I've indeed been propositioned etc. in my lifetime, it has never been persistent or annoying - actually flattering, to tell the truth.) I don't think you can really change a person's mind once they're over 40. I've never understood that hatred that some people seem to have, but have also never been particularly close to someone who had such a hatred. I was just really, completely, utterly stunned by this announcement out of the blue. Have to think about it more, I guess.
Five days now to Death Valley! Hoping to get three rides this week and get past 1000 miles. Perhaps I can get my spandex license soon.
Monday, April 23, 2001
Friday, April 20, 2001
We've been mostly non-drinkers lately - since before Christmas we've drank on maybe 6 or 7 occasions at most, and those always on weekend nights.
It's been something of a challenge - though I'm pretty sure by now that I'm not an alcoholic, I *do* like my beer, and its effects (up till the next morning anyway), very much, and I miss it.
Between that, no smoking indoors, no cable TV, no computer access, new place, and keeping the cats inside, life is very different at the Miller homestead lately. There are benefits and rewards, but they appear rather slowly -- had lunch with friends last Friday, and they were the first people to say I've lost weight, and that was really (really!) inordinately gratifying to me. Terrie never thinks I'm overweight. I know I am overweight.
Christ, I rode my bike 60 miles last week and over 50 so far this week, and of course have been getting that steady exercise for almost a year, and till now have had no visible sign that anything is different from the days of drinking 9 beers every other night, not exercising at all, smoking two packs a day, eating fast food frequently, and (perhaps most insidious) living with the daily prospect of being Larry Morrow's right-hand man at SBT.
I've not been happy with my body for almost ten years now; thru my first 35 years or so, I was skinny, and always thought of obesity as a sign of laziness, ill-health, maladjustment, and then there came a day when I looked in the mirror and was recognizably FAT myself! Irregular spates of exercise, at times, have started to work, but I never kept at it. Biking is obviously not the best thing for reducing the belly (non-drinking definitely is, though!), but slowly but surely, the cumulative effect is working.
Now I face a bachelor party and the prospect of drinking (tomorrow) with mixed feelings. I've looked forward to having (many) beers on this day, and probably will...
It's been something of a challenge - though I'm pretty sure by now that I'm not an alcoholic, I *do* like my beer, and its effects (up till the next morning anyway), very much, and I miss it.
Between that, no smoking indoors, no cable TV, no computer access, new place, and keeping the cats inside, life is very different at the Miller homestead lately. There are benefits and rewards, but they appear rather slowly -- had lunch with friends last Friday, and they were the first people to say I've lost weight, and that was really (really!) inordinately gratifying to me. Terrie never thinks I'm overweight. I know I am overweight.
Christ, I rode my bike 60 miles last week and over 50 so far this week, and of course have been getting that steady exercise for almost a year, and till now have had no visible sign that anything is different from the days of drinking 9 beers every other night, not exercising at all, smoking two packs a day, eating fast food frequently, and (perhaps most insidious) living with the daily prospect of being Larry Morrow's right-hand man at SBT.
I've not been happy with my body for almost ten years now; thru my first 35 years or so, I was skinny, and always thought of obesity as a sign of laziness, ill-health, maladjustment, and then there came a day when I looked in the mirror and was recognizably FAT myself! Irregular spates of exercise, at times, have started to work, but I never kept at it. Biking is obviously not the best thing for reducing the belly (non-drinking definitely is, though!), but slowly but surely, the cumulative effect is working.
Now I face a bachelor party and the prospect of drinking (tomorrow) with mixed feelings. I've looked forward to having (many) beers on this day, and probably will...
Took the bike in for tune-up yesterday; it's raining anyway. But I miss my morning ride and the feeling of accomplishment in getting another 15 miles behind me... I'll get it back Sunday, and hope to ride most days next week (and pass 1000 miles), preparatory to VACATION in the DESERT and GETTING MARRIED!
There's a new kind of handlebar post I'm going to try; it allows for an angular adjustment, giving up to two inches of additional height.
I drove some of the backroads on the way home last night. Orchard Station Road is pretty cool; it turns back on itself among some pretty impressive hills (the map doesn't really do it justice). Maybe I'll try it on a weekend.
Donuts; the place where I get my morning latte sells them, and there's always a fat person coming in and buying bunches, carefully selecting the custard- and jelly-filled, and/or old-fashioned, chocolate, sprinkles, glazed, and whatnot. There was a time (1973 or 4, I guess, when I had quit high school and moved to live with friends in Michigan), when I lived just down the street from a donut shop, and I'd count my pennies and go there first thing in the morning to get freshly-made donut holes (2 cents each!). Still warm from the oven, they were delicious to me at the time - among my favorite "foods" - now the smell almost makes me puke sometimes. I can't think of much of anything else for which my taste has changed so radically. I suppose it's a good thing - I don't NEED to be eating donuts!
Python (2000): Sometimes you think you "want to see a bad movie," but you may find that what you REALLY want is to see a GOOD bad movie. The tendency to show off and overdo it when panning a truly crappy can of film like this is well-documented; I will avoid that here, like I should have avoided this movie. But then I note in the IMDB reviews that some moron calls it "V. tongue-in-cheek, (with cheesy FX and hammy acting.)" I didn't get that sense from it at all. Cheesy effects, yes; hammy acting, yes; tongue in cheek? The actors in this movie that I've seen in other (also cheesy) movies have ALWAYS been hammy. Casper van Dien? Puh-LEEZ!! William Zabka? Leaves a trail of bacon all the way back to Karate Kid! Sean Whalen as the deputy in this stinker is the only one whose hamminess bore any trace of his tongue being anywhere near his (upper) cheek... One star (out of ten) for unintentional humor, killing Van Dien early, and educational value -- what NOT to do in a movie.
There's a new kind of handlebar post I'm going to try; it allows for an angular adjustment, giving up to two inches of additional height.
I drove some of the backroads on the way home last night. Orchard Station Road is pretty cool; it turns back on itself among some pretty impressive hills (the map doesn't really do it justice). Maybe I'll try it on a weekend.
Donuts; the place where I get my morning latte sells them, and there's always a fat person coming in and buying bunches, carefully selecting the custard- and jelly-filled, and/or old-fashioned, chocolate, sprinkles, glazed, and whatnot. There was a time (1973 or 4, I guess, when I had quit high school and moved to live with friends in Michigan), when I lived just down the street from a donut shop, and I'd count my pennies and go there first thing in the morning to get freshly-made donut holes (2 cents each!). Still warm from the oven, they were delicious to me at the time - among my favorite "foods" - now the smell almost makes me puke sometimes. I can't think of much of anything else for which my taste has changed so radically. I suppose it's a good thing - I don't NEED to be eating donuts!
Python (2000): Sometimes you think you "want to see a bad movie," but you may find that what you REALLY want is to see a GOOD bad movie. The tendency to show off and overdo it when panning a truly crappy can of film like this is well-documented; I will avoid that here, like I should have avoided this movie. But then I note in the IMDB reviews that some moron calls it "V. tongue-in-cheek, (with cheesy FX and hammy acting.)" I didn't get that sense from it at all. Cheesy effects, yes; hammy acting, yes; tongue in cheek? The actors in this movie that I've seen in other (also cheesy) movies have ALWAYS been hammy. Casper van Dien? Puh-LEEZ!! William Zabka? Leaves a trail of bacon all the way back to Karate Kid! Sean Whalen as the deputy in this stinker is the only one whose hamminess bore any trace of his tongue being anywhere near his (upper) cheek... One star (out of ten) for unintentional humor, killing Van Dien early, and educational value -- what NOT to do in a movie.
Thursday, April 19, 2001
Okay, here's another old-fogey thing that you always hear.
In my lifetime, I've witnessed an information revolution that has profoundly changed the quality of (north american and western european) life.
When I was a kid, we got maybe five TV stations reliably, and we had radio and records. And books.
Now, we still have all that, AND we can potentially get hundreds of TV channels clear as a bell, or we can go to a nearby store and choose from among thousands of VHS and DVD recordings. We have CDs, tapes, minidiscs, MP3s (all of which have contributed to a revolution in re-releases of stuff that was rare on LPs).
Potentially, at a moment's notice, you can develop an interest in Dwight David Eisenhower, find a huge amount of biographical info on the web, and see and hear him speaking though he's been dead for 30 years. You can see and hear Dori Seda (if you can find "Gap-Toothed Women"). You can view the Marx Brothers' home movies, see interviews with their grown-up children, see George Fenneman talking about Groucho behind the scenes on the "You Bet Your Life" game show. You can take in a full live performance by Jimi Hendrix as if it was happening now and you were sitting on the edge of the stage. And you can do it all within an hour of deciding you want to.
Why this came to mind? We watched the documentary "Satchmo" last night, and I recalled hearing that he had died in 1971, and knowing almost nothing about him. How extraordinarily fortunate we are, to be able to see him in action on a videotape now! To be able to stop and rewind to see part of it again. To feel, in a very real way, that we *know* Pops now, almost as if we had met him -- and better, maybe, than some of his biggest fans during his heyday ever got a chance to know him...
Further, we can record our own lives in ways that simply weren't available a generation ago. When I was a kid, my stepdad had a super-8 movie camera - revolutionary in its time (and the source of much of the "home-movie" material you see in these documentaries) - and he could film us, take the film in, and get a movie back in a week or so. Now, I can film something and view it immediately afterwards on my TV. As a musician, I can record myself playing several instruments at once through the magic of digital overdubbing, burn it on a CD, and write and print the liner notes in color, producing a product that's virtually indistinguisable from what you buy in a store, all in a matter of a couple of hours.
It is nothing short of miraculous, the information that's available to us today via all sorts of media.
And kids these days, they just take it all for granted, don't they. :-)
In my lifetime, I've witnessed an information revolution that has profoundly changed the quality of (north american and western european) life.
When I was a kid, we got maybe five TV stations reliably, and we had radio and records. And books.
Now, we still have all that, AND we can potentially get hundreds of TV channels clear as a bell, or we can go to a nearby store and choose from among thousands of VHS and DVD recordings. We have CDs, tapes, minidiscs, MP3s (all of which have contributed to a revolution in re-releases of stuff that was rare on LPs).
Potentially, at a moment's notice, you can develop an interest in Dwight David Eisenhower, find a huge amount of biographical info on the web, and see and hear him speaking though he's been dead for 30 years. You can see and hear Dori Seda (if you can find "Gap-Toothed Women"). You can view the Marx Brothers' home movies, see interviews with their grown-up children, see George Fenneman talking about Groucho behind the scenes on the "You Bet Your Life" game show. You can take in a full live performance by Jimi Hendrix as if it was happening now and you were sitting on the edge of the stage. And you can do it all within an hour of deciding you want to.
Why this came to mind? We watched the documentary "Satchmo" last night, and I recalled hearing that he had died in 1971, and knowing almost nothing about him. How extraordinarily fortunate we are, to be able to see him in action on a videotape now! To be able to stop and rewind to see part of it again. To feel, in a very real way, that we *know* Pops now, almost as if we had met him -- and better, maybe, than some of his biggest fans during his heyday ever got a chance to know him...
Further, we can record our own lives in ways that simply weren't available a generation ago. When I was a kid, my stepdad had a super-8 movie camera - revolutionary in its time (and the source of much of the "home-movie" material you see in these documentaries) - and he could film us, take the film in, and get a movie back in a week or so. Now, I can film something and view it immediately afterwards on my TV. As a musician, I can record myself playing several instruments at once through the magic of digital overdubbing, burn it on a CD, and write and print the liner notes in color, producing a product that's virtually indistinguisable from what you buy in a store, all in a matter of a couple of hours.
It is nothing short of miraculous, the information that's available to us today via all sorts of media.
And kids these days, they just take it all for granted, don't they. :-)
0.0.
Rain last night; left the bike here and got a ride home. Rain forecasted for the rest of the week, I think. Still, got some fifty miles from riding Saturday, Monday, and Wednesday, so doing okay.
Old guy (1) at the coffee place this morning, to some other guy (2): "How many senses do you have in your brain?"
Guy 2: "Well, I think there's at least five..."
Guy 1: "Senses like taste and smell."
Guy 2: "And there's the sixth sense, like perception..."
Guy 1: "You got it... there's a seventh sense too."
Guy 2: (More hemming and hawing, not all that interested in this conversation with a stranger.)
Guy 1: "There's COMMON sense. And there's an eighth sense, too."
Guy 2: "I don't know what that one is."
Guy 1: "HORSE sense."
Guy 2: "Well, not everybody has that sense."
Guy 1: "You know what horse sense is?"
Guy 2: ...
Guy 1: "It's knowing stuff about horses."
Me: "Horses have the sense to not gamble on humans."
Guy 1: "I used to have a horse. I really respected that horse. And there's the (something sounding like 'remora')... (trying to drag me into his enthralling conversation...), I bet THIS guy knows what it is."
Me: (Leaving as quickly as possible) "See you guys."
I imagine he'd have gotten eventually to the "Sense of HUMOR," as perhaps the ninth or tenth sense... But counting common sense and horse sense as two separate things is a bit questionable (because horse sense, in typical usage, is NOT 'knowing about horses'). And really, counting either as a SENSE, parallel to sight, hearing, touch, is a stretch. But this is what makes up small talk for the old guys who don't have much to do, and who sit at the coffee shop in the morning, trying to engage strangers in conversation.
The subtext is that Guy 1 is a wise and witty and interesting man, and whether or not his listener is hanging on every word, his words are worth hanging on, though the thoughts behind them have been expressed better a thousand times...
What other senses can we think of? A sense of futility, perhaps... A sense of shame.
Maybe another sense is the lack of sensation, where things just have no effect at all.
I feel a tremendous sense of sadness when I see these old men who've spent a lifetime working toward this kind of retirement, and I hope they are finding some sense of fulfillment in those moments at the coffee shop...
Rain last night; left the bike here and got a ride home. Rain forecasted for the rest of the week, I think. Still, got some fifty miles from riding Saturday, Monday, and Wednesday, so doing okay.
Old guy (1) at the coffee place this morning, to some other guy (2): "How many senses do you have in your brain?"
Guy 2: "Well, I think there's at least five..."
Guy 1: "Senses like taste and smell."
Guy 2: "And there's the sixth sense, like perception..."
Guy 1: "You got it... there's a seventh sense too."
Guy 2: (More hemming and hawing, not all that interested in this conversation with a stranger.)
Guy 1: "There's COMMON sense. And there's an eighth sense, too."
Guy 2: "I don't know what that one is."
Guy 1: "HORSE sense."
Guy 2: "Well, not everybody has that sense."
Guy 1: "You know what horse sense is?"
Guy 2: ...
Guy 1: "It's knowing stuff about horses."
Me: "Horses have the sense to not gamble on humans."
Guy 1: "I used to have a horse. I really respected that horse. And there's the (something sounding like 'remora')... (trying to drag me into his enthralling conversation...), I bet THIS guy knows what it is."
Me: (Leaving as quickly as possible) "See you guys."
I imagine he'd have gotten eventually to the "Sense of HUMOR," as perhaps the ninth or tenth sense... But counting common sense and horse sense as two separate things is a bit questionable (because horse sense, in typical usage, is NOT 'knowing about horses'). And really, counting either as a SENSE, parallel to sight, hearing, touch, is a stretch. But this is what makes up small talk for the old guys who don't have much to do, and who sit at the coffee shop in the morning, trying to engage strangers in conversation.
The subtext is that Guy 1 is a wise and witty and interesting man, and whether or not his listener is hanging on every word, his words are worth hanging on, though the thoughts behind them have been expressed better a thousand times...
What other senses can we think of? A sense of futility, perhaps... A sense of shame.
Maybe another sense is the lack of sensation, where things just have no effect at all.
I feel a tremendous sense of sadness when I see these old men who've spent a lifetime working toward this kind of retirement, and I hope they are finding some sense of fulfillment in those moments at the coffee shop...
Wednesday, April 18, 2001
936.0.
The new overland route is similar in profile to my old 3.6-mile ride (other than being more than 4 times longer, and actually pretty much entirely different). Fairly long, fairly flat stretch down a main road, turn off onto side road with hill-dip-hill, then back onto main road with minor hills. It's a nice pleasant ride, and safer than the shorter (by 2 miles) option and shorter (by 6 miles) than the safer option. The hills are good; they break up the monotony, and the downhills give me a chance to stand (on the pedals) and/or rest a bit from constant pedaling.
And it's getting warmer. I switched gloves and removed the "topless hat" ear-warmer thing halfway, and came in coated with salt from sweating and cooling.
I need to do more stretching. Knot in my shoulder/neck won't quite go away.
O Brother Where Art Thou (2000): Great movie, and easily the best Coen Brothers film since Raising Arizona. George Clooney is the anti-Cage, going from action hero to comedic brilliance. Extra bonus, it was showing at the matinee price ($4.50) at "our" theatre. Wish I'd read the Odyssey before watching this so I'd know how closely it follows. The faces these guys make, especially the "Delmar" character (Tim Blake Nelson)!
A group of about ten teenagers came in and sat in front of us right before the movie started, and I thought, "oh boy, there's the end of us getting to hear the movie," but I was pleasantly surprised to find them quieter than the couple to our left (who had brought a full-length denim coat, apparently only for the purpose of saving seats in the middle of the row ["denim seat-saver by Laura Ashley"] such that there was this coat laying across the seats with no attending humans right up to the beginning of the movie, and then there was a folded coat thrown haphazardly into the empty seat next to me throughout the movie, and while sorely tempted, I did NOT dump any pepsi or butter-flavored popcorn onto it). The kids were well-behaved. My first thought when they filed in was, "why don't they go out and do drugs like *I* did when *I* was their age?" And then I thought of yesterday's blog, and thus suspended my intolerance...
The new overland route is similar in profile to my old 3.6-mile ride (other than being more than 4 times longer, and actually pretty much entirely different). Fairly long, fairly flat stretch down a main road, turn off onto side road with hill-dip-hill, then back onto main road with minor hills. It's a nice pleasant ride, and safer than the shorter (by 2 miles) option and shorter (by 6 miles) than the safer option. The hills are good; they break up the monotony, and the downhills give me a chance to stand (on the pedals) and/or rest a bit from constant pedaling.
And it's getting warmer. I switched gloves and removed the "topless hat" ear-warmer thing halfway, and came in coated with salt from sweating and cooling.
I need to do more stretching. Knot in my shoulder/neck won't quite go away.
O Brother Where Art Thou (2000): Great movie, and easily the best Coen Brothers film since Raising Arizona. George Clooney is the anti-Cage, going from action hero to comedic brilliance. Extra bonus, it was showing at the matinee price ($4.50) at "our" theatre. Wish I'd read the Odyssey before watching this so I'd know how closely it follows. The faces these guys make, especially the "Delmar" character (Tim Blake Nelson)!
A group of about ten teenagers came in and sat in front of us right before the movie started, and I thought, "oh boy, there's the end of us getting to hear the movie," but I was pleasantly surprised to find them quieter than the couple to our left (who had brought a full-length denim coat, apparently only for the purpose of saving seats in the middle of the row ["denim seat-saver by Laura Ashley"] such that there was this coat laying across the seats with no attending humans right up to the beginning of the movie, and then there was a folded coat thrown haphazardly into the empty seat next to me throughout the movie, and while sorely tempted, I did NOT dump any pepsi or butter-flavored popcorn onto it). The kids were well-behaved. My first thought when they filed in was, "why don't they go out and do drugs like *I* did when *I* was their age?" And then I thought of yesterday's blog, and thus suspended my intolerance...
Tuesday, April 17, 2001
919.8.
Like the Donner Party and Death Valley expeditions, I found another overland route (but only from Petaluma to Sebastopol, and I didn't eat anyone).
Roblar Road, home of the world-apathetic Washoe House (home of the Questionable Buffalo) cuts west over to Petersen Road, which cuts north to Blank Road and 116 - coming out just west of the treacherous hill with no shoulders.
While Roblar is almost more dangerous than 116, it has the benefit of less traffic. And Petersen gives me a nice good-sized hill with a great view from the top - something I got routinely on my old 4- and 6-mile rides, but that's been oddly missing from these 14- to 20-mile routes.
This route is approximately 16 miles, making yesterday a 35-mile day. Perhaps from the past two weeks' exercise, perhaps from that last five miles I didn't have to do, this was MUCH easier than the 40-mile day last Tuesday.
Gap-Toothed Women (1988): Les Blank's documentary, I've been wanting to see for ages, for one reason only: Dori Seda. The video store in Sebastopol is awesome for stuff like this. While the rest of the movie seemed interesting, I was impatient and fast-forwarded to see, for the first time, Dori - a person I know well from her comic art - living and breathing and speaking. She died at 37, shortly after this film was made, but I treasure the small amount of work that's available, and it was a HUGE treat to see her and hear her speak for the first time. Her drawing style is exquisite, her writing style confessional but always humorous. Be warned, the comics are mostly "Adults Only."
At the video store, something like Sonic Youth "Death Valley '69" was playing - fuzz-heavy, two or three repetitive chords, strangled feedbacky lead guitar - and a new-agey couple was looking at new releases near me. She (irritated): "This music is driving me crazy!" He (sarcastic): "What music?" I think they actually went up and complained, because the music stopped and was replaced by something from the Beatles Anthologies.
People: if you were supposed to learn one thing from your youth and subsequent "growing up," it MIGHT be that "your taste" is not necessarily synonymous with "taste" in general. When you were a kid listening to whatever you listened to, and your parents said "THAT's not music," did you never vow to yourself that you wouldn't be that way when you grew older? Did you not think to yourself, "I'll be more understanding"? Here is one of those golden opportunities where (per Will Durant), "History teaches us that nothing is often a good thing to do and always a clever thing to say."
Maybe that little incident sums up, to some extent, my dislike for new-ageyness. Many new-agers are as intolerant (in the opposite direction) as any 'sudden-baptist' racist slob from the 60s. It's not whether they're right or wrong, it's that they're so unshakeably CERTAIN of their rightness (real or not), in every little thing, and so ready to condemn what's outside of their little bubbles. Even if the entire inside of your bubble is sweetness and light and milk and honey, it's unhealthy, incestuous, suffocating, and limiting to stay inside that bubble and condemn all that is non-bubble-icious. What started in the 60s as a lovely and sincere commitment to open-mindedness has mutated into a variety of the same closed-mindedness against which they once rebelled. Now, their minds are closed against anything that's outside of their mutated definition of "open-mindedness" !
And while I'm quoting, how about this:
"The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, but wiser people so full of doubts."
- Lord Bertrand Russell (05/18/1872 – 02/02/1970); Welsh philosopher
>Sigh.<
Like the Donner Party and Death Valley expeditions, I found another overland route (but only from Petaluma to Sebastopol, and I didn't eat anyone).
Roblar Road, home of the world-apathetic Washoe House (home of the Questionable Buffalo) cuts west over to Petersen Road, which cuts north to Blank Road and 116 - coming out just west of the treacherous hill with no shoulders.
While Roblar is almost more dangerous than 116, it has the benefit of less traffic. And Petersen gives me a nice good-sized hill with a great view from the top - something I got routinely on my old 4- and 6-mile rides, but that's been oddly missing from these 14- to 20-mile routes.
This route is approximately 16 miles, making yesterday a 35-mile day. Perhaps from the past two weeks' exercise, perhaps from that last five miles I didn't have to do, this was MUCH easier than the 40-mile day last Tuesday.
Gap-Toothed Women (1988): Les Blank's documentary, I've been wanting to see for ages, for one reason only: Dori Seda. The video store in Sebastopol is awesome for stuff like this. While the rest of the movie seemed interesting, I was impatient and fast-forwarded to see, for the first time, Dori - a person I know well from her comic art - living and breathing and speaking. She died at 37, shortly after this film was made, but I treasure the small amount of work that's available, and it was a HUGE treat to see her and hear her speak for the first time. Her drawing style is exquisite, her writing style confessional but always humorous. Be warned, the comics are mostly "Adults Only."
At the video store, something like Sonic Youth "Death Valley '69" was playing - fuzz-heavy, two or three repetitive chords, strangled feedbacky lead guitar - and a new-agey couple was looking at new releases near me. She (irritated): "This music is driving me crazy!" He (sarcastic): "What music?" I think they actually went up and complained, because the music stopped and was replaced by something from the Beatles Anthologies.
People: if you were supposed to learn one thing from your youth and subsequent "growing up," it MIGHT be that "your taste" is not necessarily synonymous with "taste" in general. When you were a kid listening to whatever you listened to, and your parents said "THAT's not music," did you never vow to yourself that you wouldn't be that way when you grew older? Did you not think to yourself, "I'll be more understanding"? Here is one of those golden opportunities where (per Will Durant), "History teaches us that nothing is often a good thing to do and always a clever thing to say."
Maybe that little incident sums up, to some extent, my dislike for new-ageyness. Many new-agers are as intolerant (in the opposite direction) as any 'sudden-baptist' racist slob from the 60s. It's not whether they're right or wrong, it's that they're so unshakeably CERTAIN of their rightness (real or not), in every little thing, and so ready to condemn what's outside of their little bubbles. Even if the entire inside of your bubble is sweetness and light and milk and honey, it's unhealthy, incestuous, suffocating, and limiting to stay inside that bubble and condemn all that is non-bubble-icious. What started in the 60s as a lovely and sincere commitment to open-mindedness has mutated into a variety of the same closed-mindedness against which they once rebelled. Now, their minds are closed against anything that's outside of their mutated definition of "open-mindedness" !
And while I'm quoting, how about this:
"The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, but wiser people so full of doubts."
- Lord Bertrand Russell (05/18/1872 – 02/02/1970); Welsh philosopher
>Sigh.<
Monday, April 16, 2001
903.7.
That's a 19.3-mile ride this morning (plus about 8 miles on Saturday with Terrie out'n'back on the bike path). 6:40 to 8:20, averaging roughly 13 mph (when I look down at the speedometer, I'm usually doing something like 13.7 mph).
I think I shaved the mile off by (a) staying on Sebastopol Road after the bike path and (b) taking Sierra Avenue instead of Railroad over to Cotati. Kind of disappointing to not get the whole 20 though...
Not much doubt now that I will pass 1000 before the wedding, or at least well before a year of owning the bike. It's actually very satisfying to be chunking these larger-mileage days. Better than the old 8 miles per day, and I can miss a day or three and still feel like I've gotten reasonable exercise for the week in total.
Still below freezing when I start out these days (31'F on the clock in Sebastopol as I was waiting at the stoplight at the corner of 12). Difficult, during the spring and fall, to dress for the morning cold and bring clothes for the afternoon warmth as well as my work clothes. Maybe I should get the panniers and all -- or just get a trailer like that one guy here at work (not). I look forward to those upcoming summery days when I can get a little bit of tan along with my exercise -- but that gets old too, without the natural coolant of frosty air.
Still kinda casting about for things to do around the house (besides e.g. drinking and smoking). Reading quite a bit, and sleeping what seems like too much (but maybe I needed it). That kind of sleeping is what I've done in the past when overcoming addictions (such as the aforementioned Blow), and/or being very depressed. Not sure what to do about it, other than to keep getting plenty of exercise between... Really wanting to drink some nights, and then pretty happy I didn't, later. It's a roller coaster, and I suppose it'll resolve itself over time, but meanwhile kinda antsy much of the time. Think I'll just start going to more movies - seems to take up enough of the evening that I get past that what-to-do stage. On the one hand, don't think I'll ever go back to the every-other-night drinking I was prone to, say, a year ago. On the other hand, not really seeing enough benefit to non-drinking on the weekends - and indeed, haven't drank on a school night since before christmas, and for what it's worth, we've only drank five or six times since then, even on weekends. Seems like pretty successful moderation to me.
50-hour weeks have not so far materialized at work - really hasn't been necessary so far. I stand ready to work 14-hour days as necessary, but so far they're really not. Still, there's enough to do to fill up a 9- or 10-hour day. Speaking of which...
That's a 19.3-mile ride this morning (plus about 8 miles on Saturday with Terrie out'n'back on the bike path). 6:40 to 8:20, averaging roughly 13 mph (when I look down at the speedometer, I'm usually doing something like 13.7 mph).
I think I shaved the mile off by (a) staying on Sebastopol Road after the bike path and (b) taking Sierra Avenue instead of Railroad over to Cotati. Kind of disappointing to not get the whole 20 though...
Not much doubt now that I will pass 1000 before the wedding, or at least well before a year of owning the bike. It's actually very satisfying to be chunking these larger-mileage days. Better than the old 8 miles per day, and I can miss a day or three and still feel like I've gotten reasonable exercise for the week in total.
Still below freezing when I start out these days (31'F on the clock in Sebastopol as I was waiting at the stoplight at the corner of 12). Difficult, during the spring and fall, to dress for the morning cold and bring clothes for the afternoon warmth as well as my work clothes. Maybe I should get the panniers and all -- or just get a trailer like that one guy here at work (not). I look forward to those upcoming summery days when I can get a little bit of tan along with my exercise -- but that gets old too, without the natural coolant of frosty air.
Still kinda casting about for things to do around the house (besides e.g. drinking and smoking). Reading quite a bit, and sleeping what seems like too much (but maybe I needed it). That kind of sleeping is what I've done in the past when overcoming addictions (such as the aforementioned Blow), and/or being very depressed. Not sure what to do about it, other than to keep getting plenty of exercise between... Really wanting to drink some nights, and then pretty happy I didn't, later. It's a roller coaster, and I suppose it'll resolve itself over time, but meanwhile kinda antsy much of the time. Think I'll just start going to more movies - seems to take up enough of the evening that I get past that what-to-do stage. On the one hand, don't think I'll ever go back to the every-other-night drinking I was prone to, say, a year ago. On the other hand, not really seeing enough benefit to non-drinking on the weekends - and indeed, haven't drank on a school night since before christmas, and for what it's worth, we've only drank five or six times since then, even on weekends. Seems like pretty successful moderation to me.
50-hour weeks have not so far materialized at work - really hasn't been necessary so far. I stand ready to work 14-hour days as necessary, but so far they're really not. Still, there's enough to do to fill up a 9- or 10-hour day. Speaking of which...
Friday, April 13, 2001
876.2.
Rode to SSU after work and caught the bus home from there. Nice that the busses have bike racks -- but if there are more than two bikes there's gonna be trouble (and there are only two busses going from SSU to Sebastopol morning and evening, so you can't just wait for another).
Blow (2001): "Blew" almost twenty dollars on this and popcorn last night. Pretty great cast populates a story that had me wondering why they bothered to make a movie. The original book, evidently, is an attempt by a convicted coke dealer to somehow redeem himself. But I couldn't muster much (any) sympathy for the character. I couldn't muster much hatred for him either. What is this movie trying to tell me? That cocaine is a huge waste of time and money and it ruins your life? Wow - see "Pink Pearl" reference from yesterday's blog. (BTW, Pink Pearls are those erasers you used in elementary school.) I had exactly the same experience through the 80s -- sans Pee-Wee Herman and millions of dollars -- and I admit I've written about it, but it's such a common story, I never dreamed anyone would bother to write an entire book, sell it as a screenplay, and get top-name actors to grace it with their presence! But I guess in jail you have time for making impossible dreams come true. Most disturbing to me was a scene where they have literally so much money they've filled the house and have no place to put it, with Depp's voiceover - "If you were buying coke in America in the early 80s, we had some of your money."
But Johnny Depp is always a treat. Ray Liotta and Rachel Griffiths as the father and mother were great. If nothing else, it was entertaining through the first hour or so. Five stars out of ten.
It's great to have a theatre within walking distance. Look forward to more current movie reviews here once we hit our stride on catching the $4.50 matinees.
Maybe 911 is a joke, and maybe it isn't, but I know for certain that the phone company's DSL service is a BIG joke.
Rode to SSU after work and caught the bus home from there. Nice that the busses have bike racks -- but if there are more than two bikes there's gonna be trouble (and there are only two busses going from SSU to Sebastopol morning and evening, so you can't just wait for another).
Blow (2001): "Blew" almost twenty dollars on this and popcorn last night. Pretty great cast populates a story that had me wondering why they bothered to make a movie. The original book, evidently, is an attempt by a convicted coke dealer to somehow redeem himself. But I couldn't muster much (any) sympathy for the character. I couldn't muster much hatred for him either. What is this movie trying to tell me? That cocaine is a huge waste of time and money and it ruins your life? Wow - see "Pink Pearl" reference from yesterday's blog. (BTW, Pink Pearls are those erasers you used in elementary school.) I had exactly the same experience through the 80s -- sans Pee-Wee Herman and millions of dollars -- and I admit I've written about it, but it's such a common story, I never dreamed anyone would bother to write an entire book, sell it as a screenplay, and get top-name actors to grace it with their presence! But I guess in jail you have time for making impossible dreams come true. Most disturbing to me was a scene where they have literally so much money they've filled the house and have no place to put it, with Depp's voiceover - "If you were buying coke in America in the early 80s, we had some of your money."
But Johnny Depp is always a treat. Ray Liotta and Rachel Griffiths as the father and mother were great. If nothing else, it was entertaining through the first hour or so. Five stars out of ten.
It's great to have a theatre within walking distance. Look forward to more current movie reviews here once we hit our stride on catching the $4.50 matinees.
Maybe 911 is a joke, and maybe it isn't, but I know for certain that the phone company's DSL service is a BIG joke.
Thursday, April 12, 2001
871.2.
Had to try the straight-down-116 route; chopping five miles off was just too tempting. Sometimes, too, what you see from the car, bike-safety- and shoulder-wise, is different from what you might experience on the actual bicycle and shoulder. At any rate, it makes the ride manageable at 14.4 miles, but one of those miles is pretty scary.
I think I'm going to have to sleep with someone at CalTrans to try and get a bike path installed over that one hill, because otherwise it's a perfectly lovely ride, and somehow much better than all those extra miles on Smoggy Point Road (this morning, only about half a mile on S.P.).
Reading random blogs, and reflecting on a guy at work... of course, nobody thinks their thoughts aren't deep, or that their ideas are not fresh and significant. But man, most people's insights are about as penetrating as a Pink Pearl.
This guy at work, one of those people who, for whatever reason -- maybe NO reason, I instantly dislike. I can prove the existence of love at first sight, because there are people about whom, at first sight, I am entirely apathetic. If the opposite exists, and the middle exists, so must the balancing factor.
There's a hole in that logic somewhere... If dislike-at-first-sight exists, does that really prove its opposite? Black exists, ergo white? Not a universally provable law, and certainly not provable in terms of human interaction. But apathy exists as does its opposite love, so maybe apathy-at-first-sight proves love-at-first-sight. Yeah, I have all KINDS of time for THIS question.
Anyway. This guy, I treat with civility when I must speak to him, but I try to ignore him otherwise. Yesterday, he was at the door heading out when I was heading out for my coffee, and I sorta mumbled 'tsup as I do (having come from TSUP - Technical Support - at SBT), and he had this monumentally witty and humorous reply: "the sky." He's already demonstrated a fullness of 'jokes' like that...
And there are a million billion trillion possible replies ("<coff!> you'd better dust that off before you pull it out and use it again."), but none very polite and none that don't show that I think the guy is a complete and utter buffoon (what I'm thinking is something along the lines of "I could not have thought of a stupider reply unless a plane had been passing directly overhead with Resident Bush in it"). So I just don't say anything and continue on my merry way (probably showing still, by the way, that I think he is a complete and utter buffoon).
But I still have to work in the same building and interact with the guy. So I have to ask myself - why did I dislike the guy so, immediately on sight, with no particular provocation - and how did I know (what turned out to be true), right away, just by looking at him, that his personality just doesn't meet mine?
You know, I used to have an answer to that same "what's up" question: "The direction from which things fall." Haha. I used it maybe three or four times and retired it. So you can perhaps understand my non-plussedness at his "the sky."
I imagine he thinks his comments are very very witty, and that he is a wit among wits when delivering his "the sky" repartee on a moment's notice.
I imagine he has delivered this snappy comeback a hundred times or more in his lifetime, and he's not done yet.
I imagine that, for him, jokes don't wear thin, develop age-spots, grow wrinkly and flabby and die.
I imagine that, to him, I'm just some null character who appears before him, desperately needing his day-brightening line, delivered with sterling timing, sharp as a friggin tack, no moss growing on HIM nope! And he walks on whistling a merry tune, having dumped the dusty, putrid, soft-centered, half-fermented fruit of his intellect on said unsuspecting non-entity.
I try to imagine BEING him, so I can understand how to interact. Do you think he makes any kind of reciprocal attempt?
Sigh.
Had to try the straight-down-116 route; chopping five miles off was just too tempting. Sometimes, too, what you see from the car, bike-safety- and shoulder-wise, is different from what you might experience on the actual bicycle and shoulder. At any rate, it makes the ride manageable at 14.4 miles, but one of those miles is pretty scary.
I think I'm going to have to sleep with someone at CalTrans to try and get a bike path installed over that one hill, because otherwise it's a perfectly lovely ride, and somehow much better than all those extra miles on Smoggy Point Road (this morning, only about half a mile on S.P.).
Reading random blogs, and reflecting on a guy at work... of course, nobody thinks their thoughts aren't deep, or that their ideas are not fresh and significant. But man, most people's insights are about as penetrating as a Pink Pearl.
This guy at work, one of those people who, for whatever reason -- maybe NO reason, I instantly dislike. I can prove the existence of love at first sight, because there are people about whom, at first sight, I am entirely apathetic. If the opposite exists, and the middle exists, so must the balancing factor.
There's a hole in that logic somewhere... If dislike-at-first-sight exists, does that really prove its opposite? Black exists, ergo white? Not a universally provable law, and certainly not provable in terms of human interaction. But apathy exists as does its opposite love, so maybe apathy-at-first-sight proves love-at-first-sight. Yeah, I have all KINDS of time for THIS question.
Anyway. This guy, I treat with civility when I must speak to him, but I try to ignore him otherwise. Yesterday, he was at the door heading out when I was heading out for my coffee, and I sorta mumbled 'tsup as I do (having come from TSUP - Technical Support - at SBT), and he had this monumentally witty and humorous reply: "the sky." He's already demonstrated a fullness of 'jokes' like that...
And there are a million billion trillion possible replies ("<coff!> you'd better dust that off before you pull it out and use it again."), but none very polite and none that don't show that I think the guy is a complete and utter buffoon (what I'm thinking is something along the lines of "I could not have thought of a stupider reply unless a plane had been passing directly overhead with Resident Bush in it"). So I just don't say anything and continue on my merry way (probably showing still, by the way, that I think he is a complete and utter buffoon).
But I still have to work in the same building and interact with the guy. So I have to ask myself - why did I dislike the guy so, immediately on sight, with no particular provocation - and how did I know (what turned out to be true), right away, just by looking at him, that his personality just doesn't meet mine?
You know, I used to have an answer to that same "what's up" question: "The direction from which things fall." Haha. I used it maybe three or four times and retired it. So you can perhaps understand my non-plussedness at his "the sky."
I imagine he thinks his comments are very very witty, and that he is a wit among wits when delivering his "the sky" repartee on a moment's notice.
I imagine he has delivered this snappy comeback a hundred times or more in his lifetime, and he's not done yet.
I imagine that, for him, jokes don't wear thin, develop age-spots, grow wrinkly and flabby and die.
I imagine that, to him, I'm just some null character who appears before him, desperately needing his day-brightening line, delivered with sterling timing, sharp as a friggin tack, no moss growing on HIM nope! And he walks on whistling a merry tune, having dumped the dusty, putrid, soft-centered, half-fermented fruit of his intellect on said unsuspecting non-entity.
I try to imagine BEING him, so I can understand how to interact. Do you think he makes any kind of reciprocal attempt?
Sigh.
Wednesday, April 11, 2001
856.8.
Long, at times agonizing ride home, but I made it. I swear I almost fainted when delicious onion-ring smell wafted over me in Sebastopol passing the Powerhouse Brewery, and I'd have killed for half a gram of salt. This ride is not generally as good scenery-wise as my old 3.5-, 6-, and 12-mile rides -- lots of traffic most of the way, the whizzing-by kind AND the turning-in-front-of-you kind. But there are a few nice stretches - the 5-mile path out of Sebastopol, southern Smoggy Point (between groups of cars), and Railroad Ave. Leg muscles quite sore last night, but not that bad today. May ride it again tomorrow and feel like I've accomplished something this week. Noted that 116 SE from Sebastopol to Smoggy Point is 7 miles - 5 less than taking the path due east and Smoggy Point due south. Not quit ethe calculation Pythagorus would've arrived at, but they didn't have bicycles back then.
If I could take route 116 and all of Smoggy Point on the bike (i.e. if the county/state/US would construct reasonable shoulders and/or bike paths), I could get to work slightly under 14 miles. But I can't and they don't, so it's a 40-mile day. Took a slightly different route home last night; which appears to have shaved off almost a mile, but goes through more suburban streets, strip malls, soccer moms, etc. Will check into the bus service - can take a bus from right near the house to SSU - from there only about 6 miles (on hawk-heavy Petaluma Hill Road) to work.
MUST get another water bottle on the bike before hot summer days. I don't drink enough water when stationary; and I need to start making myself remember to stop and drink while riding and while not riding.
At any rate, though it was tough riding yesterday, it was doable, and if I continue to do it often enough, it'll get easier. Feels good.
Day 4 of the computer crisis. So stupid. They're not even going to be putting my stuff on the new machine, not even putting the old perfectly-good hard drive in, so what's taking so friggin' long?!? First estimate was "friday night or monday morning." It's now uh Wednesday morning?
AT&T @home would not forward email and deleted our old email accounts like IMMEDIATELY, and then Yahoo complained because mlevel@home.com is bouncing email. Now I'm out of several of my groups because I converted steve@born-today.com to be the new main account. The other groups on which steve@b-t was not previously a member, just disappeared. Oh well, I was getting tired of those other four or five groups anyhow (NOT). The only one really missing is the private 'steve&terrie' list, though there's no traffic there. We'll get that straightened out.
Getting used to this machine, left by an ex-coworker, but can't install software I need... So am not entirely wasting time here, but am working about 50% slower than usual.
Long, at times agonizing ride home, but I made it. I swear I almost fainted when delicious onion-ring smell wafted over me in Sebastopol passing the Powerhouse Brewery, and I'd have killed for half a gram of salt. This ride is not generally as good scenery-wise as my old 3.5-, 6-, and 12-mile rides -- lots of traffic most of the way, the whizzing-by kind AND the turning-in-front-of-you kind. But there are a few nice stretches - the 5-mile path out of Sebastopol, southern Smoggy Point (between groups of cars), and Railroad Ave. Leg muscles quite sore last night, but not that bad today. May ride it again tomorrow and feel like I've accomplished something this week. Noted that 116 SE from Sebastopol to Smoggy Point is 7 miles - 5 less than taking the path due east and Smoggy Point due south. Not quit ethe calculation Pythagorus would've arrived at, but they didn't have bicycles back then.
If I could take route 116 and all of Smoggy Point on the bike (i.e. if the county/state/US would construct reasonable shoulders and/or bike paths), I could get to work slightly under 14 miles. But I can't and they don't, so it's a 40-mile day. Took a slightly different route home last night; which appears to have shaved off almost a mile, but goes through more suburban streets, strip malls, soccer moms, etc. Will check into the bus service - can take a bus from right near the house to SSU - from there only about 6 miles (on hawk-heavy Petaluma Hill Road) to work.
MUST get another water bottle on the bike before hot summer days. I don't drink enough water when stationary; and I need to start making myself remember to stop and drink while riding and while not riding.
At any rate, though it was tough riding yesterday, it was doable, and if I continue to do it often enough, it'll get easier. Feels good.
Day 4 of the computer crisis. So stupid. They're not even going to be putting my stuff on the new machine, not even putting the old perfectly-good hard drive in, so what's taking so friggin' long?!? First estimate was "friday night or monday morning." It's now uh Wednesday morning?
AT&T @home would not forward email and deleted our old email accounts like IMMEDIATELY, and then Yahoo complained because mlevel@home.com is bouncing email. Now I'm out of several of my groups because I converted steve@born-today.com to be the new main account. The other groups on which steve@b-t was not previously a member, just disappeared. Oh well, I was getting tired of those other four or five groups anyhow (NOT). The only one really missing is the private 'steve&terrie' list, though there's no traffic there. We'll get that straightened out.
Getting used to this machine, left by an ex-coworker, but can't install software I need... So am not entirely wasting time here, but am working about 50% slower than usual.
Tuesday, April 10, 2001
837.0.
Road Rash rides again! 20.7 miles from the new place to work - NOT a ride I'm likely to be doing daily anytime soon, but not a bad one overall. Thing is the second half - getting home tonight, totalling to a 42-mile day, so ask me again at 8 tonight about how great it is! Not a single hill as large as the old one on Fair/Bailey - never lower than about the 2-5 gear - mostly between 2-6 and 3-8. Mostly flat and with decent shoulders -- the first five miles on a bike/walking path with no cars. Averaging around 12mph, an hour and a half ride. Still, a new chapter in Road Rash, and I'm glad to find I can make it to work on my bike, and can even double or triple my previous weekly mileage by simply riding in twice or thrice a week - maybe this additional riding will finally create slimness on my pathetic body. The route follows highway 12 on the parallel bike path out of Sebastopol, to Stony Point Road, then south on Stony Point to Railroad Avenue. East on RR to Redwood Highway, thence to work. I avoid almost all narrow/non-shoulder areas, and there are a couple of variations I can try later. This route avoids the treacherous-looking (but diagonal, and thus probably substantially shorter) Rte 116 out of Sebastopol; I'll measure the miles by car from Sebastopol to Stony Point on 116 - it's 12 miles via bike path and Stony Point.
I think I need bearings repacked around the front crank.
Also ate breakfast today, having resolved to live a healthier life... Maybe next time I ride the bike I won't smoke till after the ride. It's somewhat easier to avoid that first cig if you're not in the standard routine of coffee & shower -- the coffee water takes just a cig's time to boil, and otherwise you're standing there watching it...
Again watched Sarah Vaughan documentary "The Divine One" last night. What a cool woman, and great singer. Unsung (heh) as one of the great independent women of the early- mid-20th century, Sarah evidently got by without heroin -- and to a large extent without men -- controlling her life, and made some of the most amazing, beautiful music of her time. Plus, she was a total babe, early on... I'm happy to have made Sassy's acquaintance through numerous records and CDs, and especially now through this video, which I can take out and watch every now and then. It's also cool to see the likes of Billy Eckstine and Roy Haynes reminiscing about her...
Still no new machine, but promised for later today. Also, should get DSL activated at home today - but will believe when I see both. Everything on the web - email, schedule, etc., I'd need three browser windows running to do what I normally have with outlook etc. A Pain.
Road Rash rides again! 20.7 miles from the new place to work - NOT a ride I'm likely to be doing daily anytime soon, but not a bad one overall. Thing is the second half - getting home tonight, totalling to a 42-mile day, so ask me again at 8 tonight about how great it is! Not a single hill as large as the old one on Fair/Bailey - never lower than about the 2-5 gear - mostly between 2-6 and 3-8. Mostly flat and with decent shoulders -- the first five miles on a bike/walking path with no cars. Averaging around 12mph, an hour and a half ride. Still, a new chapter in Road Rash, and I'm glad to find I can make it to work on my bike, and can even double or triple my previous weekly mileage by simply riding in twice or thrice a week - maybe this additional riding will finally create slimness on my pathetic body. The route follows highway 12 on the parallel bike path out of Sebastopol, to Stony Point Road, then south on Stony Point to Railroad Avenue. East on RR to Redwood Highway, thence to work. I avoid almost all narrow/non-shoulder areas, and there are a couple of variations I can try later. This route avoids the treacherous-looking (but diagonal, and thus probably substantially shorter) Rte 116 out of Sebastopol; I'll measure the miles by car from Sebastopol to Stony Point on 116 - it's 12 miles via bike path and Stony Point.
I think I need bearings repacked around the front crank.
Also ate breakfast today, having resolved to live a healthier life... Maybe next time I ride the bike I won't smoke till after the ride. It's somewhat easier to avoid that first cig if you're not in the standard routine of coffee & shower -- the coffee water takes just a cig's time to boil, and otherwise you're standing there watching it...
Again watched Sarah Vaughan documentary "The Divine One" last night. What a cool woman, and great singer. Unsung (heh) as one of the great independent women of the early- mid-20th century, Sarah evidently got by without heroin -- and to a large extent without men -- controlling her life, and made some of the most amazing, beautiful music of her time. Plus, she was a total babe, early on... I'm happy to have made Sassy's acquaintance through numerous records and CDs, and especially now through this video, which I can take out and watch every now and then. It's also cool to see the likes of Billy Eckstine and Roy Haynes reminiscing about her...
Still no new machine, but promised for later today. Also, should get DSL activated at home today - but will believe when I see both. Everything on the web - email, schedule, etc., I'd need three browser windows running to do what I normally have with outlook etc. A Pain.
Monday, April 09, 2001
Oy. They replaced my drive Friday into a machine that locked up 7 times during the course of the day, sometimes without me even doing anything. Disabled screensaver and other startup crap, still locking up (four times or more today -- obsessive-compulsive though I am, I've lost count), and currently it sits with a blue screen. They are building me a new computer. Which "won't be ready till this evening or tomorrow." Version control system is inaccessible at the moment, so can't get the stuff I checked in. So much for the paperless office.
Bela Fleck and the Flecktones last night. Awesome. At the risk of crying wolf superlative-wise, Victor Wooten is simply the best bass player I've ever seen or heard. He gets his own solo spot in the first half of the show - about 30 minutes of solo bass - and fills it up admirably, detuning the bass, coaxing an incredible array of sounds from an almost-clean-amped bass (he did have an autowah/ring-modulator kind of effect on it [lady behind us: "Is that the whammy bar?" {for the uninitiated, there are few if any basses with 'whammy bars'}]), often playing two or more different melodies/rhythm patterns simultaneously.
Everybody in the band is an exceptional musician, though, and nobody is really the "star."
Fleck plays acoustic and electric banjoes, and for one number, a funny-looking guitar. As is often the case with banjo music, you don't always hear how good it actually is from among the flurries of high-speed fingerpicking. But when Fleck sits alone on stage with an acoustic banjo and manages the Vince Guaraldi "Peanuts" theme, alone on a banjo, it's impressive.
"Futureman" plays his homemade drum/sample machine like a guitar, with half a drum kit beside him that he occasionally plays on one-handed. The "drum solo," opening the second half, is much more than that, incorporating percussion, found sounds, sampled instrumental noises, and phenomenal polyrhythmic polyphony. (christ, now I'm in rock-critic-land...)
It's the gimmickry that wins most of the crowd, though. When the bassoon player (an excellent player with a clean bassoon), does an extended solo through a synthesizer, making his instrument deliver saxophone, guitar, and other sounds, the crowd went wild (though it requires virtually no extra effort on his part to switch the synth to deliver any other instrument that's in its banks of samples...)
Nobody in this band follows the main beat; everyone's riffing on it, flirting with it. Typical tunes start with a relatively simple melody, each player taking a solo expounding on that, taking it farther and farther afield, eventually coming back "home" to it - SOP for improvisational jazz, but this is nominally a bluegrass group. They are fearless in their choices of music to attempt - classical, jazz, country, rock - no genre is safe from the Flecktones!
Each player brings amazing feats of musicianship, moments of humor, and a nice (rare) humility to the stage.
Perhaps because I'm tired, or because I'm old, I get fidgety in the last half-hour or so before the encores. When everybody's burning it up at once, there's nothing to hang your hat on sonically or visually, and it tends to blend into a big mass of sound and activity (for me), and you might get a little bored. And when the guy behind you keeps yelling high-pitched wolf-calls at all the wrong times, you might get a little annoyed, especially when his noise interferes with your ability to hear a particular stretch of music...
Still, that Wooten! 8 stars out of ten - check it out!
Bela Fleck and the Flecktones last night. Awesome. At the risk of crying wolf superlative-wise, Victor Wooten is simply the best bass player I've ever seen or heard. He gets his own solo spot in the first half of the show - about 30 minutes of solo bass - and fills it up admirably, detuning the bass, coaxing an incredible array of sounds from an almost-clean-amped bass (he did have an autowah/ring-modulator kind of effect on it [lady behind us: "Is that the whammy bar?" {for the uninitiated, there are few if any basses with 'whammy bars'}]), often playing two or more different melodies/rhythm patterns simultaneously.
Everybody in the band is an exceptional musician, though, and nobody is really the "star."
Fleck plays acoustic and electric banjoes, and for one number, a funny-looking guitar. As is often the case with banjo music, you don't always hear how good it actually is from among the flurries of high-speed fingerpicking. But when Fleck sits alone on stage with an acoustic banjo and manages the Vince Guaraldi "Peanuts" theme, alone on a banjo, it's impressive.
"Futureman" plays his homemade drum/sample machine like a guitar, with half a drum kit beside him that he occasionally plays on one-handed. The "drum solo," opening the second half, is much more than that, incorporating percussion, found sounds, sampled instrumental noises, and phenomenal polyrhythmic polyphony. (christ, now I'm in rock-critic-land...)
It's the gimmickry that wins most of the crowd, though. When the bassoon player (an excellent player with a clean bassoon), does an extended solo through a synthesizer, making his instrument deliver saxophone, guitar, and other sounds, the crowd went wild (though it requires virtually no extra effort on his part to switch the synth to deliver any other instrument that's in its banks of samples...)
Nobody in this band follows the main beat; everyone's riffing on it, flirting with it. Typical tunes start with a relatively simple melody, each player taking a solo expounding on that, taking it farther and farther afield, eventually coming back "home" to it - SOP for improvisational jazz, but this is nominally a bluegrass group. They are fearless in their choices of music to attempt - classical, jazz, country, rock - no genre is safe from the Flecktones!
Each player brings amazing feats of musicianship, moments of humor, and a nice (rare) humility to the stage.
Perhaps because I'm tired, or because I'm old, I get fidgety in the last half-hour or so before the encores. When everybody's burning it up at once, there's nothing to hang your hat on sonically or visually, and it tends to blend into a big mass of sound and activity (for me), and you might get a little bored. And when the guy behind you keeps yelling high-pitched wolf-calls at all the wrong times, you might get a little annoyed, especially when his noise interferes with your ability to hear a particular stretch of music...
Still, that Wooten! 8 stars out of ten - check it out!
Friday, April 06, 2001
Rain. Came in to work early-ish to find that the power switch on my computer appears to have gone south. So can't turn on the PC, can't get email, etc.
Hopefully they'll be quick in moving the drives to another machine (and I won't lose the data I haven't saved to the version control systems).
Hopefully I can get to work soon...
Hopefully they'll be quick in moving the drives to another machine (and I won't lose the data I haven't saved to the version control systems).
Hopefully I can get to work soon...
Thursday, April 05, 2001
Yeah, the new place...
While watching the cats for signs of adjustment, I've ignored my own.
It seems to be taking more adjustment for me than usual after a move, even the one I did after 12 years in Fairfax, but I was pretty firmly entrenched in this latest place, the first actual house I've rented - I had assumed more "ownership" than in previous duplexes/apartments/share rentals.
Plus, we've uprooted ourselves from a number of things, and there have been a lot of little changes in the last year. Reduced- to non-drinking. Healthier eating. No smoking indoors. No TV/internet/email access at home. Driving to work again. Working a later schedule.
In the middle of the night, not knowing where to put your feet when you walk around.
And last night, the young cat would not stop roaming the house yowling, and the older cat would almost settle down on the bed when some particularly plaintive call from the young one would set him off and they'd fight in the hallway. And the heater making noises. I probably didn't get to sleep till 1:30; woke at my old accustomed 5:30 or so but managed to go back to sleep till 7.
New video store, walking distance, is good. $5, 5 movies, 5 days. Nice music section, from which I rented four including "What's Up Matador" (not in IMDB, but the CD is in CDNOW). Pretty amusing collection of videos from that indie label, including Pavement "Cut Your Hair" and Liz Phair "Jealousy." Also liked Yo La Tengo, Railroad Jerk, and Helium vids, and the silly in-between segments, saved by various members of the bands and the Matador organization describing how to form a band, record a demo, make an album, shoot a video, etc. Also re-watched "Gimme Shelter." Have a lot of disjointed thoughts about it, which I won't bother sharing at the moment...
While watching the cats for signs of adjustment, I've ignored my own.
It seems to be taking more adjustment for me than usual after a move, even the one I did after 12 years in Fairfax, but I was pretty firmly entrenched in this latest place, the first actual house I've rented - I had assumed more "ownership" than in previous duplexes/apartments/share rentals.
Plus, we've uprooted ourselves from a number of things, and there have been a lot of little changes in the last year. Reduced- to non-drinking. Healthier eating. No smoking indoors. No TV/internet/email access at home. Driving to work again. Working a later schedule.
In the middle of the night, not knowing where to put your feet when you walk around.
And last night, the young cat would not stop roaming the house yowling, and the older cat would almost settle down on the bed when some particularly plaintive call from the young one would set him off and they'd fight in the hallway. And the heater making noises. I probably didn't get to sleep till 1:30; woke at my old accustomed 5:30 or so but managed to go back to sleep till 7.
New video store, walking distance, is good. $5, 5 movies, 5 days. Nice music section, from which I rented four including "What's Up Matador" (not in IMDB, but the CD is in CDNOW). Pretty amusing collection of videos from that indie label, including Pavement "Cut Your Hair" and Liz Phair "Jealousy." Also liked Yo La Tengo, Railroad Jerk, and Helium vids, and the silly in-between segments, saved by various members of the bands and the Matador organization describing how to form a band, record a demo, make an album, shoot a video, etc. Also re-watched "Gimme Shelter." Have a lot of disjointed thoughts about it, which I won't bother sharing at the moment...
Wednesday, April 04, 2001
There's a point you reach in a job where you realize that you know it.
I realized this first in a tech support job, when for the first time a caller told me the program was doing something, and I knew the program was NOT doing what he described, that either he had modified it, or he was doing something horribly wrong.
Prior to this, I had to work either from memorized data about the product or from testing what the caller was saying -- I had to believe the user was innocent until proven guilty. I'd get at least one or two calls a day that just came out of left field, that completely shook my confidence in my knowledge of the material. Of course Users Lie, that's a given in technical support, but I still had to treat them as though they were telling the truth until I could prove otherwise.
It's not like the job was all downhill from that point - things change, and new items of interest can surface on a daily basis - but I realized that I had gained an intuitive understanding of the underlying features of the product I was supporting. I could make certain leaps of logic with complete assurance.
This job, I've been here ten months. I'm not at that point yet, but I can feel it getting closer. At least I usually understand the programmers' jokes now.
And finally, FINALLY, I'm busy. I have enough information about at least some areas in the new product that I can write documentation that may be 100% accurate (but even if it's 60% wrong, hey, it's 40% complete!). In these times of failing dot-coms, it's important to look busy -- better yet to BE busy.
I realized this first in a tech support job, when for the first time a caller told me the program was doing something, and I knew the program was NOT doing what he described, that either he had modified it, or he was doing something horribly wrong.
Prior to this, I had to work either from memorized data about the product or from testing what the caller was saying -- I had to believe the user was innocent until proven guilty. I'd get at least one or two calls a day that just came out of left field, that completely shook my confidence in my knowledge of the material. Of course Users Lie, that's a given in technical support, but I still had to treat them as though they were telling the truth until I could prove otherwise.
It's not like the job was all downhill from that point - things change, and new items of interest can surface on a daily basis - but I realized that I had gained an intuitive understanding of the underlying features of the product I was supporting. I could make certain leaps of logic with complete assurance.
This job, I've been here ten months. I'm not at that point yet, but I can feel it getting closer. At least I usually understand the programmers' jokes now.
And finally, FINALLY, I'm busy. I have enough information about at least some areas in the new product that I can write documentation that may be 100% accurate (but even if it's 60% wrong, hey, it's 40% complete!). In these times of failing dot-coms, it's important to look busy -- better yet to BE busy.
Tuesday, April 03, 2001
Nothing but moving for a week straight, and now we're in, albeit only semi-organized.
I've lived in Bolinas, and in Fairfax, both well-known as the Places Hippies Go to Die. Now I live in Sebastopol: the Town that Time Forgot (Well, not really). If Northern California as a whole is considered ditzy by the rest of the US/world at large, these towns are the capitals.
W/Holistic. Tie-Dye. Hemp. Organic. Herbal. These are all bywords in these kinds of places, where old men with bald pates and ponytails sit in the sun laughing together about past acid trips. Where timid-looking needle-thin women peer anxiously at fake cheeses made from rice at the Whole Foods store.
I didn't say I didn't LIKE it! I was a hippie once; though maybe five years too young to experience the full force of hippiedom, I've sat cross-legged in a circle and chanted with others. I've eaten grain-heavy breakfasts with nary egg nor meat nor milk nor refined sugar. I've gone to more than two Grateful Dead shows in a week. And I took all the same drugs they took, back in the day. If I'm not "100% Natural" today, it doesn't mean I lack the credentials.
And the thing is, if history repeats itself, this is the crest of the North American wave - this is where the United States civilization has reached its peak, in a way. Where the populace has become so civilized, they're ripe for decline and the influx of barbarians. Sitting in the sunny square on a Monday afternoon, watching the well-meaning souls go in and out of the grocery, listening to the completely un-self-conscious squawks of someone learning to play the saxophone in public, knowing that at any moment I'm probably within earshot of somebody self-named "Rainbow" or "Sunshine," I can't help but feel sad that this might be it. This could be the best we did. Not that it isn't great and good, but that always, ALWAYS, it could've gone (as the Merry Pranksters's bus once said) 'furthur.'
I've lived in Bolinas, and in Fairfax, both well-known as the Places Hippies Go to Die. Now I live in Sebastopol: the Town that Time Forgot (Well, not really). If Northern California as a whole is considered ditzy by the rest of the US/world at large, these towns are the capitals.
W/Holistic. Tie-Dye. Hemp. Organic. Herbal. These are all bywords in these kinds of places, where old men with bald pates and ponytails sit in the sun laughing together about past acid trips. Where timid-looking needle-thin women peer anxiously at fake cheeses made from rice at the Whole Foods store.
I didn't say I didn't LIKE it! I was a hippie once; though maybe five years too young to experience the full force of hippiedom, I've sat cross-legged in a circle and chanted with others. I've eaten grain-heavy breakfasts with nary egg nor meat nor milk nor refined sugar. I've gone to more than two Grateful Dead shows in a week. And I took all the same drugs they took, back in the day. If I'm not "100% Natural" today, it doesn't mean I lack the credentials.
And the thing is, if history repeats itself, this is the crest of the North American wave - this is where the United States civilization has reached its peak, in a way. Where the populace has become so civilized, they're ripe for decline and the influx of barbarians. Sitting in the sunny square on a Monday afternoon, watching the well-meaning souls go in and out of the grocery, listening to the completely un-self-conscious squawks of someone learning to play the saxophone in public, knowing that at any moment I'm probably within earshot of somebody self-named "Rainbow" or "Sunshine," I can't help but feel sad that this might be it. This could be the best we did. Not that it isn't great and good, but that always, ALWAYS, it could've gone (as the Merry Pranksters's bus once said) 'furthur.'
Friday, March 30, 2001
I always disliked those kinds of people who displayed a certain precious "Look how cute I am" persona, people SO secure in belief in their attractiveness, they don't even think about it.
There are cute people, and there are people who think they are cute, and the two sets don't intersect at ALL for me.
Now in the case of actors in movies, you never really know if that kind of persona is actually good acting or if it's just typecasting.
In the case of Charlie's Angels (2000), I'm inclined to think it's the latter. This is one of the most excruciatingly annoying movies I think I've ever watched. Cameron Diaz, good enough in There's Something About Mary, makes me cringe every time I see her in this DOG of a movie. How Bill Murray, usually pretty good about choosing jobs, allowed himself to get involved in this one is entirely beyond me. Even the visual effects and action sequence were B-O-R-I-N-G; that warmed-over "Matrix"-style stop-action fighting is already looking older than a pie in a face. Drew Barrymore... well, no need to even mention THAT proof of de-evolution.
It doesn't work as parody because it's not funny. It doesn't work as action because it's painfully obvious that none of the action is real. It works as fluff because it's fluff.
And yeah, I knew when I rented it, it wouldn't be good, but I had at least hoped it would put me to sleep. Shouldn't've had those two Pepsis with dinner.
There are cute people, and there are people who think they are cute, and the two sets don't intersect at ALL for me.
Now in the case of actors in movies, you never really know if that kind of persona is actually good acting or if it's just typecasting.
In the case of Charlie's Angels (2000), I'm inclined to think it's the latter. This is one of the most excruciatingly annoying movies I think I've ever watched. Cameron Diaz, good enough in There's Something About Mary, makes me cringe every time I see her in this DOG of a movie. How Bill Murray, usually pretty good about choosing jobs, allowed himself to get involved in this one is entirely beyond me. Even the visual effects and action sequence were B-O-R-I-N-G; that warmed-over "Matrix"-style stop-action fighting is already looking older than a pie in a face. Drew Barrymore... well, no need to even mention THAT proof of de-evolution.
It doesn't work as parody because it's not funny. It doesn't work as action because it's painfully obvious that none of the action is real. It works as fluff because it's fluff.
And yeah, I knew when I rented it, it wouldn't be good, but I had at least hoped it would put me to sleep. Shouldn't've had those two Pepsis with dinner.
Carloads 16, 17, and 18 went up last night, and we're pretty close to being done with this.
Other than that, not much new. Between work and moving, my days are full. But figure 9 loads times 40 miles round-trip, and I have lots of time to think.
Not gonna overload Blogger today (maybe later), but inordinately happy to see its return...
Other than that, not much new. Between work and moving, my days are full. But figure 9 loads times 40 miles round-trip, and I have lots of time to think.
Not gonna overload Blogger today (maybe later), but inordinately happy to see its return...
Thursday, March 29, 2001
14, going on 15, carloads taken from old place (all but one taken to new place). Also one truckload of musical equipment. I don't mind saying this is getting old, but there's a great satisfaction in seeing the task ever nearer to completion -- a task that looked damn near impossible at the onset.
One nice side-effect of moving is that we get to eat dinner out every night. Semi-exhausted and somewhat punchy (really, an underrated state, that!), we sit at the various tables and talk over what to do next, or just talk. (For a later blog, remind me to again bemoan the sorry state of professional services of any kind...)
Johnny Garlic's is a chain-ish restaurant in Petaluma. I don't know how to describe the tone of the place, maybe 'faux-yuppie-trendo-amateur.' Like, they have cute names for the foods (and you can 'intensify' each entree with additional crap on your plate for like 3 more dollars), and the main dining area is decorated in a vain attempt to emulate the inside of a volcano. One time we were there, they were hosting one of those mystery things, where a group of people has to figure out who killed some member of the staff.
Anyway, while eating there the other night, the waitress approaching another table somehow reminded me of Godzilla, and I'm off on a weird tangent:
Godzilla is working his way through a community college web-design course by moonlighting as a waiter at Johnny Garlic's. (He didn't have much experience, but his innate expertise at flambe dishes makes him a very desirable employee.)
When they host a mystery, his coworkers are all 1950s Japanese actors, and Godzilla is the victim:
"Raaaah! Would you like some pepper on that?"
"Much excuse, but mutant monster not arrowed to dispense seasoning! Mirabito is your honorable peppah dispensah!"
"Raaah! But I was already right here, and I had the grinder!"
<scuffle ensues among wait staff and Godzilla; a shot rings out. Much confusion, as some poor customer's flaming entree continues to burn and smoke fills the room. When the smoke clears, the giant reptile is missing.>
<Later...>
Participant: "Mistah Mirabito, you not hide body that easiry! Note Godzilla tail appear fwum behind potted prant!"
Mirabito (waving pepper grinder): "I not kill him! Simpry wanting to dispense pepper!"
<Participant walks over to body...>
Participant: "Ah ha! Note pepper-grinder shaped indentation on Godzilla forehead!"
Etc. (oh well, it seemed funny at the time).
One nice side-effect of moving is that we get to eat dinner out every night. Semi-exhausted and somewhat punchy (really, an underrated state, that!), we sit at the various tables and talk over what to do next, or just talk. (For a later blog, remind me to again bemoan the sorry state of professional services of any kind...)
Johnny Garlic's is a chain-ish restaurant in Petaluma. I don't know how to describe the tone of the place, maybe 'faux-yuppie-trendo-amateur.' Like, they have cute names for the foods (and you can 'intensify' each entree with additional crap on your plate for like 3 more dollars), and the main dining area is decorated in a vain attempt to emulate the inside of a volcano. One time we were there, they were hosting one of those mystery things, where a group of people has to figure out who killed some member of the staff.
Anyway, while eating there the other night, the waitress approaching another table somehow reminded me of Godzilla, and I'm off on a weird tangent:
Godzilla is working his way through a community college web-design course by moonlighting as a waiter at Johnny Garlic's. (He didn't have much experience, but his innate expertise at flambe dishes makes him a very desirable employee.)
When they host a mystery, his coworkers are all 1950s Japanese actors, and Godzilla is the victim:
"Raaaah! Would you like some pepper on that?"
"Much excuse, but mutant monster not arrowed to dispense seasoning! Mirabito is your honorable peppah dispensah!"
"Raaah! But I was already right here, and I had the grinder!"
<scuffle ensues among wait staff and Godzilla; a shot rings out. Much confusion, as some poor customer's flaming entree continues to burn and smoke fills the room. When the smoke clears, the giant reptile is missing.>
<Later...>
Participant: "Mistah Mirabito, you not hide body that easiry! Note Godzilla tail appear fwum behind potted prant!"
Mirabito (waving pepper grinder): "I not kill him! Simpry wanting to dispense pepper!"
<Participant walks over to body...>
Participant: "Ah ha! Note pepper-grinder shaped indentation on Godzilla forehead!"
Etc. (oh well, it seemed funny at the time).
Wednesday, March 28, 2001
The wedding thing is quite the experience. Though we've managed to keep it pretty simple, I've caught glimpses here and there of what a traditional wedding entails.
It's always been considered a major Life Event and rite of passage. But it's also something else.
Men, typically, don't seriously think out the cause and effect of social/emotional things. So a marriage proposal may be, to them, the product of momentary intense feeling and/or an investment in the promise of a reward (getting laid) five or ten minutes hence.
But from the word "yes," the young male finds himself in a steadily-accelerating maelstrom of new experiences.
There is a dictionary's worth of etiquette one must learn to survive a standard "dearly-beloved" wedding and garter-tossing reception. And the guest lists, and the "help," and the order in which things must occur, and the negotiations, and the bachelor and bachelorette parties.
The emptying of the wallet is mere preparation, a removal of defenses, for the trial-by-fire. All keyed towards his domestication, housebreaking, if you will. IF a young man gets through the hundreds of little opportunities-to-offend, AND doesn't get snagged on any of a thousand potential bridal "petulant frenzies" (tm Frank Zappa), AND manages to comport himself reasonably well, AND hasn't run screaming to another state or country, THEN, finally, when it's all over, he is silently pronounced "fit for cohabitation" by all present. So, why do you think they call him a "groom"? He is "groomed" for presentability.
None of these little details ever occurred to him when he got down on his knee - and he wonders at some point if he will ever be allowed to stand again. "Etiquette" never occurs to a single man. A married man is practically an expert.
"A husband is what's left of a lover after the nerve has been extracted." - Helen Rowland (1876 - 1950), English/US writer. I never much liked or agreed with this quote, but I see its truth.
It's no particular person's "fault" that this transformation occurs. It's one of those subtle societal things that nudges him gently and repeatedly, perhaps when he least expects it, gradually enough that each new concession is small, inexorable enough that in the end, he may find himself realizing that he has been nudged down a long long road, and the way back is completely obscured.
I am SO thankful to Terrie that it hasn't been like this for me, AND that I have gotten a glimpse of it. And I am thankful to my "guardian angel" or "higher self" or whomever, that I didn't marry those others in the past who might have taken me down that road.
It's always been considered a major Life Event and rite of passage. But it's also something else.
Men, typically, don't seriously think out the cause and effect of social/emotional things. So a marriage proposal may be, to them, the product of momentary intense feeling and/or an investment in the promise of a reward (getting laid) five or ten minutes hence.
But from the word "yes," the young male finds himself in a steadily-accelerating maelstrom of new experiences.
There is a dictionary's worth of etiquette one must learn to survive a standard "dearly-beloved" wedding and garter-tossing reception. And the guest lists, and the "help," and the order in which things must occur, and the negotiations, and the bachelor and bachelorette parties.
The emptying of the wallet is mere preparation, a removal of defenses, for the trial-by-fire. All keyed towards his domestication, housebreaking, if you will. IF a young man gets through the hundreds of little opportunities-to-offend, AND doesn't get snagged on any of a thousand potential bridal "petulant frenzies" (tm Frank Zappa), AND manages to comport himself reasonably well, AND hasn't run screaming to another state or country, THEN, finally, when it's all over, he is silently pronounced "fit for cohabitation" by all present. So, why do you think they call him a "groom"? He is "groomed" for presentability.
None of these little details ever occurred to him when he got down on his knee - and he wonders at some point if he will ever be allowed to stand again. "Etiquette" never occurs to a single man. A married man is practically an expert.
"A husband is what's left of a lover after the nerve has been extracted." - Helen Rowland (1876 - 1950), English/US writer. I never much liked or agreed with this quote, but I see its truth.
It's no particular person's "fault" that this transformation occurs. It's one of those subtle societal things that nudges him gently and repeatedly, perhaps when he least expects it, gradually enough that each new concession is small, inexorable enough that in the end, he may find himself realizing that he has been nudged down a long long road, and the way back is completely obscured.
I am SO thankful to Terrie that it hasn't been like this for me, AND that I have gotten a glimpse of it. And I am thankful to my "guardian angel" or "higher self" or whomever, that I didn't marry those others in the past who might have taken me down that road.
Tuesday, March 27, 2001
So much forgotten history in our daily lives (though that's all changing, with Blogger available!).
Going through old stuff, preparatory to moving. I haven't moved since 1995, and have not only accumulated a ton of stuff, but kept a lot of stuff that I never once looked at since the last move. It was these things that captured my attention the other day: performance reviews from jobs 15, 20 years ago; drawings and writings and weird office humor I once saw fit to collect and keep; the odd photograph, a younger me grinning out unknowning at the future me, bringing an entire hermetically-preserved world into focus in an instant.
Novato Unified School District, 1977? - 1979, I worked as a printer's apprentice, babysitting an ABDick 360 offset printer as it churned out administrative and class materials for local schools. I wrote on the typewriter through many dull moments, and that paper blog is mostly in a notebook. Awful poetry and scant humor. I was a real "litterary light"(weight) then.
Crocker Bank, 1979 - 1986: The printing trade petered out - the old Catch-22: couldn't get a job without being in the Union, and couldn't get in the Union without having a job. Got into a county job-placement program, and was groomed for a teller position at a major california bank. Rose from a mail-deliverer to computer-accounting entry person to a computer system trainer in that 7-year span. But in the same period, I was seeing the end of my first long-term relationship and introducing myself to cocaine (with which I'd have a long and fruitless friendship that ultimately lost me that job). Wrote in longhand while babysitting the big IBM band-printer that serviced the Computer Systems group, then in the text editor on the PDP-1170 and Vax minicomputers, until we got PCs and Multimate.
MicroPro, 1987 - 1991: Still on the coke train through the entire period, but rose inexorably from technical support drone to advisor to technical writer before basically getting fired (under the guise of being laid off). Joined the internet craze during this time, and started doing my writing in email and on Compuserve (and of course in the late and lamented WordStar). On at least two occasions, I got excellent an performance review within a month of a warning for attendance.
SBT, 1991 - 1996 and again 1997 - 2000: Still on the train, but finally debarked during that first stint, and after rising again to Technical Writer, crashed and burned in a flurry of non-activity. But I returned, yes I did, and saved the doc department there from ignominy (my boss) for those three years. Wrote in email, on Compuserve, on the web, in longhand, in WordStar, in Word, everywhere.
Writings and drawings from all of these times. Not a lot, but something here and something there catches my eye. Like today, I showed flashes of brilliance amid mounds of banality. Never knew that I wrote so poorly - that provides some insight into people I know now who don't write well. It's just time, learning the rules, practicing, that separates the young me (and those young writers) from the current me.
But it's amazing how much of it I'd completely forgotten... Must sit and go through that stuff one day, gently but in detail. Sometimes you may feel like you haven't moved an inch in twenty years, until you look up from your trudging and see, way off in the distance, the signposts you stuck in the ground twenty years ago.
Going through old stuff, preparatory to moving. I haven't moved since 1995, and have not only accumulated a ton of stuff, but kept a lot of stuff that I never once looked at since the last move. It was these things that captured my attention the other day: performance reviews from jobs 15, 20 years ago; drawings and writings and weird office humor I once saw fit to collect and keep; the odd photograph, a younger me grinning out unknowning at the future me, bringing an entire hermetically-preserved world into focus in an instant.
Novato Unified School District, 1977? - 1979, I worked as a printer's apprentice, babysitting an ABDick 360 offset printer as it churned out administrative and class materials for local schools. I wrote on the typewriter through many dull moments, and that paper blog is mostly in a notebook. Awful poetry and scant humor. I was a real "litterary light"(weight) then.
Crocker Bank, 1979 - 1986: The printing trade petered out - the old Catch-22: couldn't get a job without being in the Union, and couldn't get in the Union without having a job. Got into a county job-placement program, and was groomed for a teller position at a major california bank. Rose from a mail-deliverer to computer-accounting entry person to a computer system trainer in that 7-year span. But in the same period, I was seeing the end of my first long-term relationship and introducing myself to cocaine (with which I'd have a long and fruitless friendship that ultimately lost me that job). Wrote in longhand while babysitting the big IBM band-printer that serviced the Computer Systems group, then in the text editor on the PDP-1170 and Vax minicomputers, until we got PCs and Multimate.
MicroPro, 1987 - 1991: Still on the coke train through the entire period, but rose inexorably from technical support drone to advisor to technical writer before basically getting fired (under the guise of being laid off). Joined the internet craze during this time, and started doing my writing in email and on Compuserve (and of course in the late and lamented WordStar). On at least two occasions, I got excellent an performance review within a month of a warning for attendance.
SBT, 1991 - 1996 and again 1997 - 2000: Still on the train, but finally debarked during that first stint, and after rising again to Technical Writer, crashed and burned in a flurry of non-activity. But I returned, yes I did, and saved the doc department there from ignominy (my boss) for those three years. Wrote in email, on Compuserve, on the web, in longhand, in WordStar, in Word, everywhere.
Writings and drawings from all of these times. Not a lot, but something here and something there catches my eye. Like today, I showed flashes of brilliance amid mounds of banality. Never knew that I wrote so poorly - that provides some insight into people I know now who don't write well. It's just time, learning the rules, practicing, that separates the young me (and those young writers) from the current me.
But it's amazing how much of it I'd completely forgotten... Must sit and go through that stuff one day, gently but in detail. Sometimes you may feel like you haven't moved an inch in twenty years, until you look up from your trudging and see, way off in the distance, the signposts you stuck in the ground twenty years ago.
816.1.
No bike this morning, powering up for taking a carload every evening this week.
Our new neighbor was playing very loud, I dunno, death-rap-metal-thrash, while working on his monster truck as we moved stuff in last night. Making a statement, I guess. His house is tiny, and I presume that the truck is his only source of music. Not a big deal to me so far - I like to make noise, so I tolerate the noise of others. Indeed, we lived across from the Portuguese Hall for six years, with the same throbbing bass line almost every saturday night for a large part of that time, interspersed with wedding receptions, livestock auctions, ice-cream socials, crab feeds, and every other dumb-ass kind of community thing. Cars parked up and down the street, kids screaming out front, and at night as everyone left, each pair of headlights in turn shining directly into our living room. We never complained about them, and they didn't complain when we were playing a Black Sabbath song during a funeral. "Live and Let Die," heh. I sense the gears turning in his little gear-head; he is registering his disapproval that someone should dare to live beside him in a home that has been empty for several months (perhaps previously inhabited by a complainer), and is basically performing a primal sonic spraying of the bushes, as he studiously ignores us. What he sees is a (to him) middle-aged couple moving into Sebastopol, home of the tie-dyed macrobiotic tree-hugger, next door to his little oasis of post-adolescent masculine crudity. The fool - I can remember being almost exactly like that, passive-agressive in my territorialilty about my sonic space. Why can I remember it? Because it's as recent as the last new neighbor at the old place; or the last time the Portuguese had a big "do" while I was drinking and jamming in our front room!
The poor unsuspecting redneck doesn't yet know that he's competing with a master -- we have five or six electric guitars and large amps easily capable of drowning out his pitiful Rob Zombie tape, about 2000 CDs, records, and tapes, and a reasonably kick-ass stereo. We actually have more noise-making equipment than would fit in his entire house! So, though we don't think much of his taste, we are happy that he likes noise. I was a bit concerned that we'd be asked (repeatedly, by prim & puckered, schoolmarmish, vaguely acting-like-they-mean-well persons for whom there is no such thing as "quiet enough") to turn it down here; I guess that won't be the case!
Someone stop me from breaking out the Damned the second I get the stereo set up...
No bike this morning, powering up for taking a carload every evening this week.
Our new neighbor was playing very loud, I dunno, death-rap-metal-thrash, while working on his monster truck as we moved stuff in last night. Making a statement, I guess. His house is tiny, and I presume that the truck is his only source of music. Not a big deal to me so far - I like to make noise, so I tolerate the noise of others. Indeed, we lived across from the Portuguese Hall for six years, with the same throbbing bass line almost every saturday night for a large part of that time, interspersed with wedding receptions, livestock auctions, ice-cream socials, crab feeds, and every other dumb-ass kind of community thing. Cars parked up and down the street, kids screaming out front, and at night as everyone left, each pair of headlights in turn shining directly into our living room. We never complained about them, and they didn't complain when we were playing a Black Sabbath song during a funeral. "Live and Let Die," heh. I sense the gears turning in his little gear-head; he is registering his disapproval that someone should dare to live beside him in a home that has been empty for several months (perhaps previously inhabited by a complainer), and is basically performing a primal sonic spraying of the bushes, as he studiously ignores us. What he sees is a (to him) middle-aged couple moving into Sebastopol, home of the tie-dyed macrobiotic tree-hugger, next door to his little oasis of post-adolescent masculine crudity. The fool - I can remember being almost exactly like that, passive-agressive in my territorialilty about my sonic space. Why can I remember it? Because it's as recent as the last new neighbor at the old place; or the last time the Portuguese had a big "do" while I was drinking and jamming in our front room!
The poor unsuspecting redneck doesn't yet know that he's competing with a master -- we have five or six electric guitars and large amps easily capable of drowning out his pitiful Rob Zombie tape, about 2000 CDs, records, and tapes, and a reasonably kick-ass stereo. We actually have more noise-making equipment than would fit in his entire house! So, though we don't think much of his taste, we are happy that he likes noise. I was a bit concerned that we'd be asked (repeatedly, by prim & puckered, schoolmarmish, vaguely acting-like-they-mean-well persons for whom there is no such thing as "quiet enough") to turn it down here; I guess that won't be the case!
Someone stop me from breaking out the Damned the second I get the stereo set up...
Monday, March 26, 2001
812.3.
Beautiful morning. Stopped to get a picture of the peach sky over Skillman, where the road ahead had a strip of tule fog across it...
Only six carloads and one truckload moved over the weekend, but they were large loads. It rained on Saturday after two runs (one of them taking musical equipment to John's for safekeeping. We also set up and filled bookshelves at the new place, providing a set of boxes to bring back and refill. Doesn't seem like much, but the whole point of not having to move in one weekend is that you don't have to knock yourself out on it. And the new house is *just* starting to look less empty than the old one. I will be attempting to run a load up every day this week after work.
Too, those first few days of packing, you spend a lot of time sifting through the stuff.
Realtors who sold the old place sent us 'estoppel' forms to fill out - why should we accomodate their needs in ANY way shape or form? Threw them out, then retrieved and stored them, thinking they might involve some kind of attempt at absolution for the realtors/buyers, in which case we'll just keep 'em, unfilled. By the way, correction to brevious blog: the credit check was only $10 (vs. $40 at the Century 21/Bundesen realtor).
More Born Today work over the weekend; added the 9400th quote to the database AND passed the 10,000 mark on home page hits (since May 2000 - more than that since the page began over on sbt.com). Over 60 billion (bytes) served!
The people at Fox are high if they think I'd rather watch a Schwarzenegger movie (whose name doesn't begin with "TERM") than their standard, brilliant, Sunday night fare of Futurama, King of the Hill, Simpsons, and Malcolm in the Middle (I don't watch X-Files). I actually avoid renting one-night movies on Sundays because I know I'll get sucked into that channel 2 stuff. What a nasty trick to inflict Arnold on the discerning viewers expecting funny, relevant television! Gawd help us if he runs for (or, gasp, BECOMES) Governor of California, but I wouldn't put ANYthing beneath the voters of this state, after Reagan. Maybe Gary Coleman should run.
Eyes of Tammy Faye: The slipcover hype says it will change my mind about Tammy Faye Bakker. Truth be told, I don't want to change my mind about her (in fact, haven't much 'mind about her' to change, spending as I do very little time thinking about Tammy Faye), but it did do that. She's a more admirable person than she's generally credited for. Though I dozed off because I was dead tired, and while in that semi-dreaming state, can only remember the shrill voice of Tammy defending herself and Jim and the PTL, with images of her scruffy dog somehow merging with hers in my mind, such that it was not unlike the yapping of a hyperactive mutt over some trivial occurrence that I couln't quite grasp. Let's talk about degrees of greed, and the Bakkers vs. Jerry Falwell. Really, I've got other things to think about.
Have been waking at like 4am lately. It would really be helpful to change my work hours to like 9-6 or something, but I'm really pretty beat by 2pm, let alone 5 or 6. Nobody gets here until 9 or 10. Maybe after the move I'll try to change my schedule, but it's hard -- I've always been an earlybird, except for one summer in Michigan when I was routinely sleeping till 11...
Beautiful morning. Stopped to get a picture of the peach sky over Skillman, where the road ahead had a strip of tule fog across it...
Only six carloads and one truckload moved over the weekend, but they were large loads. It rained on Saturday after two runs (one of them taking musical equipment to John's for safekeeping. We also set up and filled bookshelves at the new place, providing a set of boxes to bring back and refill. Doesn't seem like much, but the whole point of not having to move in one weekend is that you don't have to knock yourself out on it. And the new house is *just* starting to look less empty than the old one. I will be attempting to run a load up every day this week after work.
Too, those first few days of packing, you spend a lot of time sifting through the stuff.
Realtors who sold the old place sent us 'estoppel' forms to fill out - why should we accomodate their needs in ANY way shape or form? Threw them out, then retrieved and stored them, thinking they might involve some kind of attempt at absolution for the realtors/buyers, in which case we'll just keep 'em, unfilled. By the way, correction to brevious blog: the credit check was only $10 (vs. $40 at the Century 21/Bundesen realtor).
More Born Today work over the weekend; added the 9400th quote to the database AND passed the 10,000 mark on home page hits (since May 2000 - more than that since the page began over on sbt.com). Over 60 billion (bytes) served!
The people at Fox are high if they think I'd rather watch a Schwarzenegger movie (whose name doesn't begin with "TERM") than their standard, brilliant, Sunday night fare of Futurama, King of the Hill, Simpsons, and Malcolm in the Middle (I don't watch X-Files). I actually avoid renting one-night movies on Sundays because I know I'll get sucked into that channel 2 stuff. What a nasty trick to inflict Arnold on the discerning viewers expecting funny, relevant television! Gawd help us if he runs for (or, gasp, BECOMES) Governor of California, but I wouldn't put ANYthing beneath the voters of this state, after Reagan. Maybe Gary Coleman should run.
Eyes of Tammy Faye: The slipcover hype says it will change my mind about Tammy Faye Bakker. Truth be told, I don't want to change my mind about her (in fact, haven't much 'mind about her' to change, spending as I do very little time thinking about Tammy Faye), but it did do that. She's a more admirable person than she's generally credited for. Though I dozed off because I was dead tired, and while in that semi-dreaming state, can only remember the shrill voice of Tammy defending herself and Jim and the PTL, with images of her scruffy dog somehow merging with hers in my mind, such that it was not unlike the yapping of a hyperactive mutt over some trivial occurrence that I couln't quite grasp. Let's talk about degrees of greed, and the Bakkers vs. Jerry Falwell. Really, I've got other things to think about.
Have been waking at like 4am lately. It would really be helpful to change my work hours to like 9-6 or something, but I'm really pretty beat by 2pm, let alone 5 or 6. Nobody gets here until 9 or 10. Maybe after the move I'll try to change my schedule, but it's hard -- I've always been an earlybird, except for one summer in Michigan when I was routinely sleeping till 11...
Friday, March 23, 2001
Will post this here, just to record it....
Not that it matters, but for what it's worth, Bundesen really really sucked, at least for us.
We applied thru them for a place we really liked a couple of months ago, and it took more than three weeks to find out that we didn't get it. This might be attributable to the actual landlords, but... Of course for our $40 credit-check fee (we paid $20 for the same credit check at another realtor), they could resubmit our application to other places we liked.
I called them last Friday morning about one of their listings (half a mile from our current home), leaving a voice mail to ask that they put in an application (since they already had the previous one) and to call me ASAP, giving work and home numbers and the approximate time I leave work. We took it upon ourselves to check the place out Saturday, at least the outside, and stopped in at Bundesen (which is hello? closed on weekends!) and left a note for the agent, again requesting that they put in our application for the place and please call us. I called again Monday morning, again leaving a voice mail. She FINALLY called Monday evening at 6:30 -- at work -- to tell me there were (now) three applicants for the place and the landlord would be deciding this Friday (tomorrow), and would we like to come in and fill out an application? Grrr.
This whole thing (and really the whole time since the current landlord died) has been a HUGE exercise in patience, and most of the real-estate types with whom we've interacted have provided negative experiences (the Century 21 lady selling our place actually left like three or four cigarette butts in the ashtray by my computer - what the *(&#$)(& was she doing sitting at MY desk for the length of time it takes to smoke four cigs?!?!? - and further (we heard second-hand), had to express her opinions to prospective buyers about "don't all those guitars make a lot of noise?" We never saw her (just as well), but you just KNOW she's some skanky ol' pasty fat-bottomed red-nosed ho' with like fifty Big Mac wrappers in the back-seat of the Buick (and an overflowing ashtray...), acting like she owns the county... Of course we probably could've nailed her ass on the smoking, but of course we're trying to make the most favorable impression possible on the buyers, hoping against hope that we can stay on at $900-1000 in a market where $1200 is pretty much rock-bottom.
Then, too, we're dealing with that market, and with landlords who specify "No pets," "No smoking," "No fun," and "Nobody need apply"...
- and others who *literally* remodeled with a staple-gun in order to call a place "2BR" and ask $1450/mo for it, and we KNOW we have to decide fast and for sure that we don't want it because SOMEone will rent it -- and quickly...
- and yet others who have dragged a single-wide house trailer into their front yard so we can pay $1500, $1600 a month towards their kids' college and the kids are spending the money on drugs and guns at the high school.
- and others still who use words like "cute" to mean "tiny," and "rustic" to mean "falling apart," and "country-style living" to mean "outdoor bathrooms," and "sweeping views" to mean you see the landlord with a broom on his front porch from your permanently-fused-open bathroom window...
and they generally waste our time when we make an appointment, spend 30 valuable minutes driving out there, and then have to peel out when we see the friggin guy from Deliverance standing in front of the place the Beverly Hillbillies vacated after striking oil...
And gas & electric & water prices going up up up and dot-coms losing money and going down down down.
And oh yeah, a wedding coming up Apr 29, where we've made six people travel to death valley and stay in the "cheapest" motel for 2 days, and a reception coming up May 19 where we're committing 80 people to spend an afternoon with us, many flying in from distant parts, and for all we know, we'll be living in a car by then!
So, you can take my opinion of Bundesen with a grain or two of salt -- or all of Utah. :-)
It's been a long time since I've felt so powerless (gee, was it December? The Supreme Court & presidential election? Maybe it HASN'T been that long!), and I hope it'll be a long time before it happens again.
But we're really happy about the new place, and the time we have for getting all our stuff over there, and the room in which to put it, and the lack of staple-guns in evidence.
Not that it matters, but for what it's worth, Bundesen really really sucked, at least for us.
We applied thru them for a place we really liked a couple of months ago, and it took more than three weeks to find out that we didn't get it. This might be attributable to the actual landlords, but... Of course for our $40 credit-check fee (we paid $20 for the same credit check at another realtor), they could resubmit our application to other places we liked.
I called them last Friday morning about one of their listings (half a mile from our current home), leaving a voice mail to ask that they put in an application (since they already had the previous one) and to call me ASAP, giving work and home numbers and the approximate time I leave work. We took it upon ourselves to check the place out Saturday, at least the outside, and stopped in at Bundesen (which is hello? closed on weekends!) and left a note for the agent, again requesting that they put in our application for the place and please call us. I called again Monday morning, again leaving a voice mail. She FINALLY called Monday evening at 6:30 -- at work -- to tell me there were (now) three applicants for the place and the landlord would be deciding this Friday (tomorrow), and would we like to come in and fill out an application? Grrr.
This whole thing (and really the whole time since the current landlord died) has been a HUGE exercise in patience, and most of the real-estate types with whom we've interacted have provided negative experiences (the Century 21 lady selling our place actually left like three or four cigarette butts in the ashtray by my computer - what the *(&#$)(& was she doing sitting at MY desk for the length of time it takes to smoke four cigs?!?!? - and further (we heard second-hand), had to express her opinions to prospective buyers about "don't all those guitars make a lot of noise?" We never saw her (just as well), but you just KNOW she's some skanky ol' pasty fat-bottomed red-nosed ho' with like fifty Big Mac wrappers in the back-seat of the Buick (and an overflowing ashtray...), acting like she owns the county... Of course we probably could've nailed her ass on the smoking, but of course we're trying to make the most favorable impression possible on the buyers, hoping against hope that we can stay on at $900-1000 in a market where $1200 is pretty much rock-bottom.
Then, too, we're dealing with that market, and with landlords who specify "No pets," "No smoking," "No fun," and "Nobody need apply"...
- and others who *literally* remodeled with a staple-gun in order to call a place "2BR" and ask $1450/mo for it, and we KNOW we have to decide fast and for sure that we don't want it because SOMEone will rent it -- and quickly...
- and yet others who have dragged a single-wide house trailer into their front yard so we can pay $1500, $1600 a month towards their kids' college and the kids are spending the money on drugs and guns at the high school.
- and others still who use words like "cute" to mean "tiny," and "rustic" to mean "falling apart," and "country-style living" to mean "outdoor bathrooms," and "sweeping views" to mean you see the landlord with a broom on his front porch from your permanently-fused-open bathroom window...
and they generally waste our time when we make an appointment, spend 30 valuable minutes driving out there, and then have to peel out when we see the friggin guy from Deliverance standing in front of the place the Beverly Hillbillies vacated after striking oil...
And gas & electric & water prices going up up up and dot-coms losing money and going down down down.
And oh yeah, a wedding coming up Apr 29, where we've made six people travel to death valley and stay in the "cheapest" motel for 2 days, and a reception coming up May 19 where we're committing 80 people to spend an afternoon with us, many flying in from distant parts, and for all we know, we'll be living in a car by then!
So, you can take my opinion of Bundesen with a grain or two of salt -- or all of Utah. :-)
It's been a long time since I've felt so powerless (gee, was it December? The Supreme Court & presidential election? Maybe it HASN'T been that long!), and I hope it'll be a long time before it happens again.
But we're really happy about the new place, and the time we have for getting all our stuff over there, and the room in which to put it, and the lack of staple-guns in evidence.
808, roughly...
No bike today, bringing boxes home from work, etc.
Movies:
Remember the Titans: Actually, probably the best of a recent spate of football movies, including as it does an actual story that contains actual relevance to something other than football. Denzel Washington, determined to have a meaningful acting career, does a good job. Loved Ryan Hurst in this movie - as it happens, I've seen almost every previous movie he's been in, but didn't remember him from those. Hmm, 7 stars (out of 10).
Lost Souls: Winona Ryder, with long hair, has made a career of looking frightened, and has probably kept Maybelline alive with eyeliner sales. She's now inching towards my list of unwatchable movie stars. I slept well, so give it 3 stars.
No bike today, bringing boxes home from work, etc.
Movies:
Remember the Titans: Actually, probably the best of a recent spate of football movies, including as it does an actual story that contains actual relevance to something other than football. Denzel Washington, determined to have a meaningful acting career, does a good job. Loved Ryan Hurst in this movie - as it happens, I've seen almost every previous movie he's been in, but didn't remember him from those. Hmm, 7 stars (out of 10).
Lost Souls: Winona Ryder, with long hair, has made a career of looking frightened, and has probably kept Maybelline alive with eyeliner sales. She's now inching towards my list of unwatchable movie stars. I slept well, so give it 3 stars.
Thursday, March 22, 2001
804.8.
And we pass 800 miles, 15 bike-days after passing 700! (I think I'm averaging a little higher lately; have ridden almost every day, but for a couple of errand-days...)
Weird cloud of something blowing across the road on Skillman this a.m. Gnats? Dirt particles? Dunno. Red-Tail on the wires near Bailey. Stayed in at least 2-5 through the whole ride, except where stopping for traffic.
Analyzed possible routes from Sebastopol yesterday. It'll be about 20 miles, but may not be too bad hill- and traffic-wise, cutting through some backroads and neighborhoods. Will definitely give it a try.
Work: got a document outlining changes to the templates from one of the writers in that other town. He clearly hasn't read any of the earlier correspondence, thus went to great pains to create, for example, cross-references to elements we decided not to use. In cases like this, I try to take some time before responding along the lines of: "you ignorant slut!"
Home: We've locked in the Sebastopol house with yesterday's deposit! It's like a 60% increase in rent, but we were in a weird little low-rent pocket here for several years, and I basically think of it like we were paying $1200, because that's the absolute minimum rent we'd have been able to find for a comparable place today. By this (admittedly somewhat twisted) logic, the increase is less than 25%. And it's very close to 100% more space, counting the attic. Once we pay the first month's rent (tomorrow), we will have keys and can probably start moving stuff -- we also get THAT break, two weekends for moving, a real blessing.
And we pass 800 miles, 15 bike-days after passing 700! (I think I'm averaging a little higher lately; have ridden almost every day, but for a couple of errand-days...)
Weird cloud of something blowing across the road on Skillman this a.m. Gnats? Dirt particles? Dunno. Red-Tail on the wires near Bailey. Stayed in at least 2-5 through the whole ride, except where stopping for traffic.
Analyzed possible routes from Sebastopol yesterday. It'll be about 20 miles, but may not be too bad hill- and traffic-wise, cutting through some backroads and neighborhoods. Will definitely give it a try.
Work: got a document outlining changes to the templates from one of the writers in that other town. He clearly hasn't read any of the earlier correspondence, thus went to great pains to create, for example, cross-references to elements we decided not to use. In cases like this, I try to take some time before responding along the lines of: "you ignorant slut!"
Home: We've locked in the Sebastopol house with yesterday's deposit! It's like a 60% increase in rent, but we were in a weird little low-rent pocket here for several years, and I basically think of it like we were paying $1200, because that's the absolute minimum rent we'd have been able to find for a comparable place today. By this (admittedly somewhat twisted) logic, the increase is less than 25%. And it's very close to 100% more space, counting the attic. Once we pay the first month's rent (tomorrow), we will have keys and can probably start moving stuff -- we also get THAT break, two weekends for moving, a real blessing.
Wednesday, March 21, 2001
797.3.
Not much to write, and blogger is crawling this morning.
Today, we hope to lock in the new place by making the deposit.
Talked to my neighbor last night - they're moving to the empty house behind, for $100 more. That means we're paying only $150 more for a virtually 3BR, 1.5BA, +living, dining, big kitchen, office, 2 car garage, etc etc, over a 2BR (where you have to pass through one br to get to the other) 1BA, living and tiny kitchen, 1-car garage place RIGHT NEXT TO THE LANDLORD. So we have the better deal by far.
I will find a way to ride my bike to work. Maybe not as often, but racking up more mileage when I do.
Not much to write, and blogger is crawling this morning.
Today, we hope to lock in the new place by making the deposit.
Talked to my neighbor last night - they're moving to the empty house behind, for $100 more. That means we're paying only $150 more for a virtually 3BR, 1.5BA, +living, dining, big kitchen, office, 2 car garage, etc etc, over a 2BR (where you have to pass through one br to get to the other) 1BA, living and tiny kitchen, 1-car garage place RIGHT NEXT TO THE LANDLORD. So we have the better deal by far.
I will find a way to ride my bike to work. Maybe not as often, but racking up more mileage when I do.
Tuesday, March 20, 2001
793.0.
Two hawks on the way home last night, both sitting still enough for me to stop and get a long look. One was a Cooper's or Sharp-Shinned, I think.
Oh man. The realtor (Martha Cooper from Bundesen property management in Petaluma) finally called me back last night around 6:30. Though I'd told her in my message FRIDAY MORNING that I'm usually home by 5:00.
The place we TRIED TO APPLY FOR ON FRIDAY has three applicants now, and the owner will decide on Friday. If we'd like to come in and fill out an application... WE HAVE ALREADY FILLED OUT AN APPLICATION WITH THEM - I told her this once in Friday morning's voicemail and again in a written message Saturday!
ALL she needed to do on Friday morning when she got my call (or at least yesterday, when she had my call AND my note AND my Monday morning call!) was get the previous applcation and xerox it, and add it to the pile for the landlord to consider. This was evidently beyond her abilities.
Meanwhile, we looked inside the place in Sebastopol with the owners, and they've accepted us. This place is $75 more than the Petaluma one, but is MUCH nicer. Clean, all fixed up (electrical, plumbing, paint...) and a LOT of space. We'll probably go for it.
The current landlord had the grace to apologize for evicting us, and had no problem with us moving out two weeks early.
They were supposedly adding chlorine or something to the water last night, and we had no water this morning. No big deal for me, as long as there's enough for coffee - I shower at work anyway.
Left the car at the Ford dealer for the tranny recall, and with full documentation on the head gasket problem. Hopefully they won't try to lube me up for a hearty screwing on THAT.
Customer service everywhere has gone completely down the tubes. I have no confidence that Henry Curtis Ford will honor what is clearly a known problem with the car, which is still within stated limits in which the refund supposedly applies. I believe they will try everything they can to weasel out of it, including offering money off on a new Ford or Mercury (basically a cheap trade-in on the Mustang [which they'll then resell for more]). If they honor this without wriggling, I will note it here, and I will definitely keep it in mind when I do buy a new car, 6 months to a year hence. If not, no Fords in my future.
I'm fuming still about the realtor, but happy with thoughts of the Sebastopol place. Please let nothing happen to blow THAT!
Two hawks on the way home last night, both sitting still enough for me to stop and get a long look. One was a Cooper's or Sharp-Shinned, I think.
Oh man. The realtor (Martha Cooper from Bundesen property management in Petaluma) finally called me back last night around 6:30. Though I'd told her in my message FRIDAY MORNING that I'm usually home by 5:00.
The place we TRIED TO APPLY FOR ON FRIDAY has three applicants now, and the owner will decide on Friday. If we'd like to come in and fill out an application... WE HAVE ALREADY FILLED OUT AN APPLICATION WITH THEM - I told her this once in Friday morning's voicemail and again in a written message Saturday!
ALL she needed to do on Friday morning when she got my call (or at least yesterday, when she had my call AND my note AND my Monday morning call!) was get the previous applcation and xerox it, and add it to the pile for the landlord to consider. This was evidently beyond her abilities.
Meanwhile, we looked inside the place in Sebastopol with the owners, and they've accepted us. This place is $75 more than the Petaluma one, but is MUCH nicer. Clean, all fixed up (electrical, plumbing, paint...) and a LOT of space. We'll probably go for it.
The current landlord had the grace to apologize for evicting us, and had no problem with us moving out two weeks early.
They were supposedly adding chlorine or something to the water last night, and we had no water this morning. No big deal for me, as long as there's enough for coffee - I shower at work anyway.
Left the car at the Ford dealer for the tranny recall, and with full documentation on the head gasket problem. Hopefully they won't try to lube me up for a hearty screwing on THAT.
Customer service everywhere has gone completely down the tubes. I have no confidence that Henry Curtis Ford will honor what is clearly a known problem with the car, which is still within stated limits in which the refund supposedly applies. I believe they will try everything they can to weasel out of it, including offering money off on a new Ford or Mercury (basically a cheap trade-in on the Mustang [which they'll then resell for more]). If they honor this without wriggling, I will note it here, and I will definitely keep it in mind when I do buy a new car, 6 months to a year hence. If not, no Fords in my future.
I'm fuming still about the realtor, but happy with thoughts of the Sebastopol place. Please let nothing happen to blow THAT!
Monday, March 19, 2001
787.7.
Almost t-shirt weather this morning. It will be nice to get to that point, and to be able to wear shorts agani, and to not have to carry the additional stuff: sweatshirt, full gloves, earmuffs, neck-warmer, rain gear...
Before anyone else says "That's illegal!" it is completely legal for a landlord (in California) to give a tenant 30 days notice without giving a reason. In this case, it's rude, but it's not illegal.
We're pretty comfortable now with the idea that we need to move, and have more or less organized our lives around that necessity, hoping to lock something in quickly so we can move on with our other plans. Hoping we can start making that happen today.
Scrambled all weekend, cleaning up the current place, looking for houses to look at, and looking at said houses. Unlike most realtors who are SELLING houses, the agencies who deal with RENTALS are mostly closed on weekends. So there's enormous frustration in knowing we have to move and not being able to take serious action towards accomplishing it before desperation sets in.
But we saw a few likeable places. Hopefully something will pan out this week and we can relax a little. The place that was $1375 is a trailer (actually, quite a few of the places are trailers - cheap income property on someone's land), but it's back from the road and fenced in, and has a washer and dryer and two-car garage, so not bad, and we've been trying to apply for it since Friday.
Lots of work (in the early morning hours) on the Born Today/Died Today pages, updated the timeline and alphabetical list pages, and figured out the keyword search feature, all of which makes me very happy. Total quotes on the pages slowly approaching 5000; total quotes in the database slowly approaching 10000. Next, I suppose, I'll try to find a useful way to post more of the unused quotes...
Almost t-shirt weather this morning. It will be nice to get to that point, and to be able to wear shorts agani, and to not have to carry the additional stuff: sweatshirt, full gloves, earmuffs, neck-warmer, rain gear...
Before anyone else says "That's illegal!" it is completely legal for a landlord (in California) to give a tenant 30 days notice without giving a reason. In this case, it's rude, but it's not illegal.
We're pretty comfortable now with the idea that we need to move, and have more or less organized our lives around that necessity, hoping to lock something in quickly so we can move on with our other plans. Hoping we can start making that happen today.
Scrambled all weekend, cleaning up the current place, looking for houses to look at, and looking at said houses. Unlike most realtors who are SELLING houses, the agencies who deal with RENTALS are mostly closed on weekends. So there's enormous frustration in knowing we have to move and not being able to take serious action towards accomplishing it before desperation sets in.
But we saw a few likeable places. Hopefully something will pan out this week and we can relax a little. The place that was $1375 is a trailer (actually, quite a few of the places are trailers - cheap income property on someone's land), but it's back from the road and fenced in, and has a washer and dryer and two-car garage, so not bad, and we've been trying to apply for it since Friday.
Lots of work (in the early morning hours) on the Born Today/Died Today pages, updated the timeline and alphabetical list pages, and figured out the keyword search feature, all of which makes me very happy. Total quotes on the pages slowly approaching 5000; total quotes in the database slowly approaching 10000. Next, I suppose, I'll try to find a useful way to post more of the unused quotes...
Friday, March 16, 2001
784.0.
Hawks on the wires, Stony Point and Rainsville, the Rainsville one (Red-shouldered, I think) watching me nervously but not flying away as I rode by about 12 ft away. The land drops a ways below the road on the right there, so the hawk on the wire was almost level with me on the bike.
Looked at a house - depressing. $1350 - excuse me - $1395 for a two "bedroom," where one of the bedrooms was actually the former garage. You can see the dollar signs in the landlord's eyes with crap like that. It was and basically still is a one-bedroom house, but that wasn't bringing in the desired income. It would probably cost US a mint to heat that room, which would not otherwise really be inhabitable in winter, and you can't NOT heat it because they took out the door between that and the rest of the house. Tiny little kitchen, tiny living room, medium-sized bedroom.
SO depressing. One good possibility is someone Terrie knows who's about to move out of their place....
Other than that, nice bike ride, with the hawks and all. Lots of geese around too, and I flushed a duck from the creek on Rainsville. Still windy on Rainsville, but didn't seem as bad, and I did the dirt and gravel shoulder-ride without too much sweat. Better than usual climb up the King hill, like I've been riding regularly or something...
Hawks on the wires, Stony Point and Rainsville, the Rainsville one (Red-shouldered, I think) watching me nervously but not flying away as I rode by about 12 ft away. The land drops a ways below the road on the right there, so the hawk on the wire was almost level with me on the bike.
Looked at a house - depressing. $1350 - excuse me - $1395 for a two "bedroom," where one of the bedrooms was actually the former garage. You can see the dollar signs in the landlord's eyes with crap like that. It was and basically still is a one-bedroom house, but that wasn't bringing in the desired income. It would probably cost US a mint to heat that room, which would not otherwise really be inhabitable in winter, and you can't NOT heat it because they took out the door between that and the rest of the house. Tiny little kitchen, tiny living room, medium-sized bedroom.
SO depressing. One good possibility is someone Terrie knows who's about to move out of their place....
Other than that, nice bike ride, with the hawks and all. Lots of geese around too, and I flushed a duck from the creek on Rainsville. Still windy on Rainsville, but didn't seem as bad, and I did the dirt and gravel shoulder-ride without too much sweat. Better than usual climb up the King hill, like I've been riding regularly or something...
784.0.
Hawks on the wires, Stony Point and Rainsville, the Rainsville one (Red-shouldered, I think) watching me nervously but not flying away as I rode by about 12 ft away. The land drops a ways below the road on the right there, so the hawk on the wire was almost level with me on the bike.
Looked at a house - depressing. $1350 - excuse me - $1395 for a two "bedroom," where one of the bedrooms was actually the former garage. You can see the dollar signs in the landlord's eyes with crap like that. It was and basically still is a one-bedroom house, but that wasn't bringing in the desired income. It would probably cost US a mint to heat that room, which would not otherwise really be inhabitable in winter, and you can't NOT heat it because they took out the door between that and the rest of the house. Tiny little kitchen, tiny living room, medium-sized bedroom.
SO depressing. One good possibility is someone Terrie knows who's about to move out of their place....
Other than that, nice bike ride, with the hawks and all. Lots of geese around too, and I flushed a duck from the creek on Rainsville. Still windy on Rainsville, but didn't seem as bad, and I did the dirt and gravel shoulder-ride without too much sweat. Better than usual climb up the King hill, like I've been riding regularly or something...
Hawks on the wires, Stony Point and Rainsville, the Rainsville one (Red-shouldered, I think) watching me nervously but not flying away as I rode by about 12 ft away. The land drops a ways below the road on the right there, so the hawk on the wire was almost level with me on the bike.
Looked at a house - depressing. $1350 - excuse me - $1395 for a two "bedroom," where one of the bedrooms was actually the former garage. You can see the dollar signs in the landlord's eyes with crap like that. It was and basically still is a one-bedroom house, but that wasn't bringing in the desired income. It would probably cost US a mint to heat that room, which would not otherwise really be inhabitable in winter, and you can't NOT heat it because they took out the door between that and the rest of the house. Tiny little kitchen, tiny living room, medium-sized bedroom.
SO depressing. One good possibility is someone Terrie knows who's about to move out of their place....
Other than that, nice bike ride, with the hawks and all. Lots of geese around too, and I flushed a duck from the creek on Rainsville. Still windy on Rainsville, but didn't seem as bad, and I did the dirt and gravel shoulder-ride without too much sweat. Better than usual climb up the King hill, like I've been riding regularly or something...
777.5.
Vulture on the crossbar of a telephone post on Skillman; I had to stop and look at it for a sec. Unlike most birds that fly away as soon as they see you're interested, he just sat there and stared back.
Warm and sunny, but I'm a bit late today.
Yesterday afternoon, very windy -- enough so to make the ride difficult. When I got home, there was a paper taped to the front door - 30-day notice.
Initially, anger, because the current landlord has acted all caring and cooperative with us up to now, and this is REALLY short notice after six years, and we note that she signed the thing *10* days ago. Further there was a phone message from her about the future owners coming by today, with no mention of this at all. Man is my rectum sore!
Quick on the heels of anger, despair. We've looked at rentals in this area, found ones we liked, and been turned down after waiting -- not so bad when you have a secure place to apply from; VERY bad if you have to be out of the current place by April 15. Also, we were paying $900 here, and anything comparable will be $1200 or more. This in the middle of planning and paying for wedding and reception stuff, by the way.
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, but crying was definitely the front-runner.
Then, attempted action. Browsed the online newspaper classifieds, and called about two places. Debated whether to email Terrie or let her remain blissfully unaware for at least the drive home, and then she got home anyway.
Looked at a 2BR house going for $1350 - maybe slightly bigger than the current place, but in the middle of town, across the street from an apartment complex (higher possibility of burglary, not to mention late-night traffic, gunshots, who knows what else.
We went to the chinese place for dinner (and now THEY are annoying me too, serving EVERYTHING within like ten minutes [and didn't they forget to bring rice?]...) to talk over the options, such as they are. Discussed cancelling the Death Valley part, but really, that wouldn't save us a lot. And the problem seems to me more about the futility of finding a decent place in 30 days than about the money we'll have to blow on first-and-last etc. And the MASSIVE inconvenience of having to move two weeks before a still-in-the-planning-stages idyllic desert honeymoon vacation.
We determined to lower our standards a bit, without being able to determine much else, as we are at the mercy of prospective landlords and a fairytale real-estate market. We will even go for a one-bedroom place, if we can cram all our stuff in, and we accept that this may be the end of Road Rash Diaries as we know it.
I do figure I can handle a 10 or 15-mile commute regularly (depending on hills and safe shoulders) and could even do 20, 25 on a semi-regular basis, and there's also the bike-bus-bike option, but distance from work isn't going to be a determining factor in where we "choose" to live.
This may turn out to the good, but I can't see it at the moment. Though, y'know, the prospect of a new, different, place is kind of exciting no matter what the place is -- it's a fresh start.
The fondest hope is that we can squeak into someplace around $1200, drop some of the luxuries like cable TV and possibly the cable internet, hunker down and get serious about saving money for a home where this cannot happen to us again.
Note that this happened to me once before, many years ago, and I ended moving first to a hellish situation in Bolinas, later to the girlfriend's Mom's house, through one or two "satisfactory" apartments, before landing in the great Fairfax duplex where I lived for 11, 12 years. And it was tough, but also a load-off, to move out of THAT place too.
Vulture on the crossbar of a telephone post on Skillman; I had to stop and look at it for a sec. Unlike most birds that fly away as soon as they see you're interested, he just sat there and stared back.
Warm and sunny, but I'm a bit late today.
Yesterday afternoon, very windy -- enough so to make the ride difficult. When I got home, there was a paper taped to the front door - 30-day notice.
Initially, anger, because the current landlord has acted all caring and cooperative with us up to now, and this is REALLY short notice after six years, and we note that she signed the thing *10* days ago. Further there was a phone message from her about the future owners coming by today, with no mention of this at all. Man is my rectum sore!
Quick on the heels of anger, despair. We've looked at rentals in this area, found ones we liked, and been turned down after waiting -- not so bad when you have a secure place to apply from; VERY bad if you have to be out of the current place by April 15. Also, we were paying $900 here, and anything comparable will be $1200 or more. This in the middle of planning and paying for wedding and reception stuff, by the way.
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, but crying was definitely the front-runner.
Then, attempted action. Browsed the online newspaper classifieds, and called about two places. Debated whether to email Terrie or let her remain blissfully unaware for at least the drive home, and then she got home anyway.
Looked at a 2BR house going for $1350 - maybe slightly bigger than the current place, but in the middle of town, across the street from an apartment complex (higher possibility of burglary, not to mention late-night traffic, gunshots, who knows what else.
We went to the chinese place for dinner (and now THEY are annoying me too, serving EVERYTHING within like ten minutes [and didn't they forget to bring rice?]...) to talk over the options, such as they are. Discussed cancelling the Death Valley part, but really, that wouldn't save us a lot. And the problem seems to me more about the futility of finding a decent place in 30 days than about the money we'll have to blow on first-and-last etc. And the MASSIVE inconvenience of having to move two weeks before a still-in-the-planning-stages idyllic desert honeymoon vacation.
We determined to lower our standards a bit, without being able to determine much else, as we are at the mercy of prospective landlords and a fairytale real-estate market. We will even go for a one-bedroom place, if we can cram all our stuff in, and we accept that this may be the end of Road Rash Diaries as we know it.
I do figure I can handle a 10 or 15-mile commute regularly (depending on hills and safe shoulders) and could even do 20, 25 on a semi-regular basis, and there's also the bike-bus-bike option, but distance from work isn't going to be a determining factor in where we "choose" to live.
This may turn out to the good, but I can't see it at the moment. Though, y'know, the prospect of a new, different, place is kind of exciting no matter what the place is -- it's a fresh start.
The fondest hope is that we can squeak into someplace around $1200, drop some of the luxuries like cable TV and possibly the cable internet, hunker down and get serious about saving money for a home where this cannot happen to us again.
Note that this happened to me once before, many years ago, and I ended moving first to a hellish situation in Bolinas, later to the girlfriend's Mom's house, through one or two "satisfactory" apartments, before landing in the great Fairfax duplex where I lived for 11, 12 years. And it was tough, but also a load-off, to move out of THAT place too.
Thursday, March 15, 2001
770.0.
Man, I don't know why my legs get so sore after missing a day (more so than after missing two or three days, seems like), but it takes a lot more effort to get up the minor slopes on Skillman, much less the Fair Avenue hill.
No movies last night; saw Richard Thompson at the Mystic Theatre instead. This was the third time we've seen him at the Mystic, a theatre whose main redeeming quality is that it's local.
What a wondrous guitar player! What great songs! Have reviewed RT shows before, so won't get into it deeply, but suffice to say that, even though I was quite tired, the show was two hours of entrancement. As always. The guy has a unique guitar-playing style, such that he can produce a full sound unaccompanied, somehow keeping a strong bass line going while playing complex rhythms and melodies AND singing. Nothing short of amazing. Seemed like he got into a couple of depressive jags last night, a lot of slow numbers, but still delivered with some rockers like "Daddy Was a Mummy" and "Feel So Good." Great banter between songs, too. He also introduced a very funny new song about Kenny G's lack of musicianship.
Opening act was a woman who played various stringed instruments (one appeared to be a baritone ukelele!) with her cello-playing friend, singing in that kind of nasally affected voice that many women use nowadays. Her chatting with the audience, and her first couple of songs, were really stilted and not-quite-right. Made me uncomfortable. She closed, though, with a great torch song in French "Vie en Rose." (psst! This is how I know that nasal voice was affected.) But you realize while watching someone like that, they have enough belief in themselves to stand up in front of strangers and belt it out, touring the country at budget rates as a second- or third-billed act, and you have to have a certain amount of respect for that...
Annoying guy at work has brought in his recumbent bike, and is of course saying how much better it is in every way than a standard bicycle. <yawn>
Man, I don't know why my legs get so sore after missing a day (more so than after missing two or three days, seems like), but it takes a lot more effort to get up the minor slopes on Skillman, much less the Fair Avenue hill.
No movies last night; saw Richard Thompson at the Mystic Theatre instead. This was the third time we've seen him at the Mystic, a theatre whose main redeeming quality is that it's local.
What a wondrous guitar player! What great songs! Have reviewed RT shows before, so won't get into it deeply, but suffice to say that, even though I was quite tired, the show was two hours of entrancement. As always. The guy has a unique guitar-playing style, such that he can produce a full sound unaccompanied, somehow keeping a strong bass line going while playing complex rhythms and melodies AND singing. Nothing short of amazing. Seemed like he got into a couple of depressive jags last night, a lot of slow numbers, but still delivered with some rockers like "Daddy Was a Mummy" and "Feel So Good." Great banter between songs, too. He also introduced a very funny new song about Kenny G's lack of musicianship.
Opening act was a woman who played various stringed instruments (one appeared to be a baritone ukelele!) with her cello-playing friend, singing in that kind of nasally affected voice that many women use nowadays. Her chatting with the audience, and her first couple of songs, were really stilted and not-quite-right. Made me uncomfortable. She closed, though, with a great torch song in French "Vie en Rose." (psst! This is how I know that nasal voice was affected.) But you realize while watching someone like that, they have enough belief in themselves to stand up in front of strangers and belt it out, touring the country at budget rates as a second- or third-billed act, and you have to have a certain amount of respect for that...
Annoying guy at work has brought in his recumbent bike, and is of course saying how much better it is in every way than a standard bicycle. <yawn>
Wednesday, March 14, 2001
No bike today; have things to do involving a four-wheeled internal combustion vehicle.
Rode home via King yesterday. Nice ride, though the confounded wind! Best thing for that is to just resign myself to taking it slow in a lower gear. Thus did most of Rainsville on the dirt shoulder.
And now, your heavily-IMDB-linked movies.
Wonder Boys and Almost Famous appeared at the vid store yesterday.
Wonder Boys is a funny movie with an outstanding cast. Rent it and enjoy!
Almost Famous is a film I've been looking forward to, being as it is about rock'n'roll and I generally see everything about rock'n'roll. Also funny, and also with a good cast, this movie was very entertaining and quite believable. If you ever thought "Rock Journalist" might be the easiest job in the world, watch this before quitting your day job. Phillip Seymour Hoffman, who I've liked in everything I've seen, plays Lester Bangs probably better than Lester would've (at least kinder and gentler...). The kid got kind of annoying over the course of the movie, but then, I suspect Cameron Crowe probably is too. Billy Crudup was great, Kate Hudson perfectly ditzy. Knowing that this is semi-autobiographical, I looked up the trivia on IMDB to see what band Crowe might've toured with early in his career.
Rode home via King yesterday. Nice ride, though the confounded wind! Best thing for that is to just resign myself to taking it slow in a lower gear. Thus did most of Rainsville on the dirt shoulder.
And now, your heavily-IMDB-linked movies.
Wonder Boys and Almost Famous appeared at the vid store yesterday.
Wonder Boys is a funny movie with an outstanding cast. Rent it and enjoy!
Almost Famous is a film I've been looking forward to, being as it is about rock'n'roll and I generally see everything about rock'n'roll. Also funny, and also with a good cast, this movie was very entertaining and quite believable. If you ever thought "Rock Journalist" might be the easiest job in the world, watch this before quitting your day job. Phillip Seymour Hoffman, who I've liked in everything I've seen, plays Lester Bangs probably better than Lester would've (at least kinder and gentler...). The kid got kind of annoying over the course of the movie, but then, I suspect Cameron Crowe probably is too. Billy Crudup was great, Kate Hudson perfectly ditzy. Knowing that this is semi-autobiographical, I looked up the trivia on IMDB to see what band Crowe might've toured with early in his career.
Tuesday, March 13, 2001
759.8.
Dead pheasant last night beside Skillman - surprising there aren't more. Almost stopped to get a feather, but really... yeck! Plus I had just stopped a few minutes back to watch and try to identify a small raptor hovering over a field. It's pretty amazing when they do that, hanging motionless in the sky, moving wings and taiol minutely to adjust, looking down intently at some prey you'll never see unless he dives and comes up with it... This one might have been a Cooper's or Sharp-shinned (haven't been able to unequivocally identify either of those in the wild). Less than or near 12" length, but I don't think it was a kestrel...
Quite a bit warmer this week. Overcast this morning, not a lot of beauty to the ride, just getting to work.
Movies last night
Snow Falling on Cedars (1999): Good movie. Basically a courtroom drama with a strong dose of guilt over treatment of the Japanese during WWII... I rented this damned thing at LEAST three times before, paid late fees on, etc., and though it was overdue again last night, I made myself watch it so I wouldn't rent it again and again forever. Certainly, worth renting at least once, but after all that buildup (and the glowing review on IMDB), kind of a letdown. Don't let my opinion stop you from watching it.
Mountains of the Moon (1990): Oh, I liked this one. Can't prove it by me, but allegedly factual account of the explorations of Sir Richard Burton (not the drunken actor) and John Speeke in Africa, seeking the source of the Nile. I like historical drama like this partly because I may have quotes by some of the people portrayed (such as Burton and his wife/biographer Isabel) in my born-today pages. Lots of action and interaction, and interesting view of the "noble savage" (and the "savage nobles" of Royal Geographic Society in Victorian England!). The principle actors really deliver well-fleshed-out characters. And imagine! A movie set mostly in Africa with not a single "deadly-snake" scene!
You know, some movies are one-watchers; others are good for several viewings. I'm not sure what makes that difference for me, but "Snow" is a oner, and I would watch "Mountains" again. Between these two movies, the former tells a story and the latter creates a world. Someone else would see it the opposite way. Half of the quality of any movie/book/art/music is in the imagination.
Getting close to "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," here, but beyond that, not only is the quality invested by the viewer, half of the backstory and subtext on which the viewer bases their view, is created by them as well.
Dead pheasant last night beside Skillman - surprising there aren't more. Almost stopped to get a feather, but really... yeck! Plus I had just stopped a few minutes back to watch and try to identify a small raptor hovering over a field. It's pretty amazing when they do that, hanging motionless in the sky, moving wings and taiol minutely to adjust, looking down intently at some prey you'll never see unless he dives and comes up with it... This one might have been a Cooper's or Sharp-shinned (haven't been able to unequivocally identify either of those in the wild). Less than or near 12" length, but I don't think it was a kestrel...
Quite a bit warmer this week. Overcast this morning, not a lot of beauty to the ride, just getting to work.
Movies last night
Snow Falling on Cedars (1999): Good movie. Basically a courtroom drama with a strong dose of guilt over treatment of the Japanese during WWII... I rented this damned thing at LEAST three times before, paid late fees on, etc., and though it was overdue again last night, I made myself watch it so I wouldn't rent it again and again forever. Certainly, worth renting at least once, but after all that buildup (and the glowing review on IMDB), kind of a letdown. Don't let my opinion stop you from watching it.
Mountains of the Moon (1990): Oh, I liked this one. Can't prove it by me, but allegedly factual account of the explorations of Sir Richard Burton (not the drunken actor) and John Speeke in Africa, seeking the source of the Nile. I like historical drama like this partly because I may have quotes by some of the people portrayed (such as Burton and his wife/biographer Isabel) in my born-today pages. Lots of action and interaction, and interesting view of the "noble savage" (and the "savage nobles" of Royal Geographic Society in Victorian England!). The principle actors really deliver well-fleshed-out characters. And imagine! A movie set mostly in Africa with not a single "deadly-snake" scene!
You know, some movies are one-watchers; others are good for several viewings. I'm not sure what makes that difference for me, but "Snow" is a oner, and I would watch "Mountains" again. Between these two movies, the former tells a story and the latter creates a world. Someone else would see it the opposite way. Half of the quality of any movie/book/art/music is in the imagination.
Getting close to "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," here, but beyond that, not only is the quality invested by the viewer, half of the backstory and subtext on which the viewer bases their view, is created by them as well.
Monday, March 12, 2001
752.4.
Pleased to have passed 750! Wonder if I can get a thousand before the late-April wedding, or at least the May reception? It's a vague goal, like my plan to take a long ride yesterday, never happened. See how close I get by uh Apr 14, when there's two weeks to go, and then get serious if it's doable. 25 workdays till the 14th = 200 miles at 8/day. Actually, pretty easily doable, if I keep avoiding the car, and occasionally take those longer routes.
I often talk about the 'golden' evening light, but there's also a 'silver' morning light, when the grass is dewy or frosty and the sun hits it with cold white light... Looks almost like snow. Took a picture this morning that'll probably be overexposed, but I have to make the attempt.
It almost seems like winter is already over (saw first [dead] snake of the year Friday afternoon), but I would expect a few more rains this year. Got good (and compact) rain pants yesterday at sonomaoutfitters, while buying our new 3-person Walrus tent (which probably will never have three persons in it, but we'll have more room). On comparison with our old-faithful 2-person Cirrus tent, it actually packs smaller and weighs less, so might even use it for backpacking. The Cirrus is and has been a great tent, but it's just a little cramped inside, especially with bad weather when we're stuck in there with a bunch of our stuff. The Walrus also has a hoop on the rainfly at the entryway, providing an extra area for keeping boots dryish. When you read the footprint dimensions on a tent, those aren't entirely accurate - the Cirrus, when set up, curves upwards at the edges... Before honeymoon, might also get good new pads, but you wouldn't believe how expensive those things are!
Visited yesterday with my best man John, who is planning a bachelor party. No strippers or anything like that, please. In fact, I'm thinking that maybe we just want a unisex bachelor/ette party... but y'know, this really is a separate 'guy thing' and 'gal thing.'
A million lizards at John's place, and a pair of (he says) mating red-tails - one flying over us screeching as we sat on the back porch.
May be able to recoup the head-gasket loss. Known problem with 1995 Ford 3.8L V-6. I *knew* it wasn't just me! Even if I get no reimbursement, THAT much is immensely satisfying, that it wasn't (necessarily) stupidity on my part that caused the head gasket(s) to fail.
Oddly, the job of creating a style guide has been taken from me, the only person in the organization whose title is "editor." Also, the other cities choose to NOT have their doc edited because of the one-editor bottleneck. Then what the f890 IS my job? I'm all verklempt... talk amongst yourselves... We'll work it out.
Movies: The Music Man (1962). They shouldn't have had the half-hour-plus "Behind the Movie" thing before the real thing (Shirley Jones hosting, others from the movie interviewed, many pieces of scenes previewed). I'm usually a sucker for a musical like this, and it certainly has its moments, but I can't buy the Liberace-ish Robert Preston as a leading man, nor can I clear the Partridge Family from my head while watching Shirley Jones. Much enjoyed the very-young Ron Howard and the very-old Hermione Gingold. Still, for all the distractions, the movie comes up swinging and ultimately delivers a lovely old-timey magic.
Pleased to have passed 750! Wonder if I can get a thousand before the late-April wedding, or at least the May reception? It's a vague goal, like my plan to take a long ride yesterday, never happened. See how close I get by uh Apr 14, when there's two weeks to go, and then get serious if it's doable. 25 workdays till the 14th = 200 miles at 8/day. Actually, pretty easily doable, if I keep avoiding the car, and occasionally take those longer routes.
I often talk about the 'golden' evening light, but there's also a 'silver' morning light, when the grass is dewy or frosty and the sun hits it with cold white light... Looks almost like snow. Took a picture this morning that'll probably be overexposed, but I have to make the attempt.
It almost seems like winter is already over (saw first [dead] snake of the year Friday afternoon), but I would expect a few more rains this year. Got good (and compact) rain pants yesterday at sonomaoutfitters, while buying our new 3-person Walrus tent (which probably will never have three persons in it, but we'll have more room). On comparison with our old-faithful 2-person Cirrus tent, it actually packs smaller and weighs less, so might even use it for backpacking. The Cirrus is and has been a great tent, but it's just a little cramped inside, especially with bad weather when we're stuck in there with a bunch of our stuff. The Walrus also has a hoop on the rainfly at the entryway, providing an extra area for keeping boots dryish. When you read the footprint dimensions on a tent, those aren't entirely accurate - the Cirrus, when set up, curves upwards at the edges... Before honeymoon, might also get good new pads, but you wouldn't believe how expensive those things are!
Visited yesterday with my best man John, who is planning a bachelor party. No strippers or anything like that, please. In fact, I'm thinking that maybe we just want a unisex bachelor/ette party... but y'know, this really is a separate 'guy thing' and 'gal thing.'
A million lizards at John's place, and a pair of (he says) mating red-tails - one flying over us screeching as we sat on the back porch.
May be able to recoup the head-gasket loss. Known problem with 1995 Ford 3.8L V-6. I *knew* it wasn't just me! Even if I get no reimbursement, THAT much is immensely satisfying, that it wasn't (necessarily) stupidity on my part that caused the head gasket(s) to fail.
Oddly, the job of creating a style guide has been taken from me, the only person in the organization whose title is "editor." Also, the other cities choose to NOT have their doc edited because of the one-editor bottleneck. Then what the f890 IS my job? I'm all verklempt... talk amongst yourselves... We'll work it out.
Movies: The Music Man (1962). They shouldn't have had the half-hour-plus "Behind the Movie" thing before the real thing (Shirley Jones hosting, others from the movie interviewed, many pieces of scenes previewed). I'm usually a sucker for a musical like this, and it certainly has its moments, but I can't buy the Liberace-ish Robert Preston as a leading man, nor can I clear the Partridge Family from my head while watching Shirley Jones. Much enjoyed the very-young Ron Howard and the very-old Hermione Gingold. Still, for all the distractions, the movie comes up swinging and ultimately delivers a lovely old-timey magic.
Friday, March 09, 2001
744.9.
Did the extra two miles last night on the King Road route. Great-GrandBoss saw me preparing to leave at 3:30 - hope he understands that I often get here before 7 and often don't do lunch.
TGIF. Have done good work this week.
Newt/salamander in the garage this morning -- maybe he's keeping warmer there than outdoors. Nice sunrise, chilly air. Wanted to stop and take pictures, but only took one. Need a holster or something for the camera. Like in a car, you might catch a glimpse of something and stop, and half the time when you get back to it it's not as great as you originally thought.
Last night, visited a caterer we liked and, I think, locked 'em in for the wedding reception party 5/19. Extraordinary salad, with walnuts, mandarin orange, and ah... a bunch of other stuff. Chicken with salsa. Filet Mignon for our carnivorous friends. Will also have vege/vegan stuff, but really, that's like 2% of attendees, so not we're gonna weigh it towards them more than 10%. The perceived quality of the caterers may be more important than the quality of the food...? Well, if you're in Marin/Sonoma, and have a wedding coming up, you might want to check out Forks and Fingers catering. Or you might want to check back here around 5/22 or so; if there are any problems, they'll be documented.
Dinosaur (2000):
Oh man, I don't know. Technology has enabled us to see things on film that would've been impossible like 10 minutes ago, but it's the same old story of an individual's quest for safety, belonging, and freedom, and the (sanitized, bloodless) trials-by-fire he must endure--all reduced to soft, gummable chunks for consumption by toothless two-year-olds. The human parts are played by animated dinosaurs, who in turn are voiced by humans. Especially annoying is how, even in fantasy dinosaur land, there's the stereotypical comic-relief, overweight-and-slow-moving-but-full-of-common-sensical-folksy-wisdom triceratops played by Della Reese (I guess Whoopi was already booked for another comic sidekick voice role - and suggest you miss THAT movie too). C'MON moviemakers, there are more than three types of black people in the world! Tagline: "You have never seen anything like this." Actually, I have. This is the same plot and cast of characters you've seen 500 times (if you've watched 600 movies). The ONLY things this movie has going for it are the background scenery and lack of singing. Really. Go see Toy Story or Chicken Run again instead.
If only the advanced technology of today could somehow be applied to the story line and dialog... sigh. This movie makes me wish that they still had to draw 'em frame by frame.
IMDB fans rate it 6.5 out of 10, but they are high.
Did the extra two miles last night on the King Road route. Great-GrandBoss saw me preparing to leave at 3:30 - hope he understands that I often get here before 7 and often don't do lunch.
TGIF. Have done good work this week.
Newt/salamander in the garage this morning -- maybe he's keeping warmer there than outdoors. Nice sunrise, chilly air. Wanted to stop and take pictures, but only took one. Need a holster or something for the camera. Like in a car, you might catch a glimpse of something and stop, and half the time when you get back to it it's not as great as you originally thought.
Last night, visited a caterer we liked and, I think, locked 'em in for the wedding reception party 5/19. Extraordinary salad, with walnuts, mandarin orange, and ah... a bunch of other stuff. Chicken with salsa. Filet Mignon for our carnivorous friends. Will also have vege/vegan stuff, but really, that's like 2% of attendees, so not we're gonna weigh it towards them more than 10%. The perceived quality of the caterers may be more important than the quality of the food...? Well, if you're in Marin/Sonoma, and have a wedding coming up, you might want to check out Forks and Fingers catering. Or you might want to check back here around 5/22 or so; if there are any problems, they'll be documented.
Dinosaur (2000):
Oh man, I don't know. Technology has enabled us to see things on film that would've been impossible like 10 minutes ago, but it's the same old story of an individual's quest for safety, belonging, and freedom, and the (sanitized, bloodless) trials-by-fire he must endure--all reduced to soft, gummable chunks for consumption by toothless two-year-olds. The human parts are played by animated dinosaurs, who in turn are voiced by humans. Especially annoying is how, even in fantasy dinosaur land, there's the stereotypical comic-relief, overweight-and-slow-moving-but-full-of-common-sensical-folksy-wisdom triceratops played by Della Reese (I guess Whoopi was already booked for another comic sidekick voice role - and suggest you miss THAT movie too). C'MON moviemakers, there are more than three types of black people in the world! Tagline: "You have never seen anything like this." Actually, I have. This is the same plot and cast of characters you've seen 500 times (if you've watched 600 movies). The ONLY things this movie has going for it are the background scenery and lack of singing. Really. Go see Toy Story or Chicken Run again instead.
If only the advanced technology of today could somehow be applied to the story line and dialog... sigh. This movie makes me wish that they still had to draw 'em frame by frame.
IMDB fans rate it 6.5 out of 10, but they are high.
Thursday, March 08, 2001
736.1.
Very foggy; again, why I got lights. Allowed the headlight to burn out over the last couple of weeks so I could give it a full charge. My mechanical ineptitude is well-documented. I don't really understand these batteries, and got somewhat conflicting info in the instructions (how do you drive a technical writer crazy?).
I really wish cars would move at least a little bit into the oncoming lane (when no traffic is actually oncoming) to pass me. If nothing else, it shows that they see me. It would be so easy to hit something unexpected on the shoulder and swerve/fall out into the driving lane... When I'm driving (even before I started biking regularly) I consider this when passing peds or cyclists or horses - give at least their full height in lateral room to fall.
Great Egret in one of the fields on Skillman - they're very beautiful birds, and large, yet they have a certain lack of grace that is comical, and when you see one "outstanding in his field," he's usually looking to scare up a meal, with that hunched-over, undertakerish look of a vulture.
Lessee, movies: last night, "The Contender" and "Meet the Parents."
The Contender: Jeff Bridges sleeping through a(nother?) presidential performance, and Gary Oldman typically excellent (and difficult to identify). Joan Allen playing a senator with almost-impossible integrity, nominated for Vice President, when an indiscretion from her past causes problems. Good cast, engaging enough story. It could happen here, but I don't suppose it would play out like this.
Meet the Parents: Funny, the kind of slapstick where you're slightly embarrassed to be laughing out loud at Ben Stiller's misfortune, but Stiller has a face that's just MADE for misfortune, and there are some moments where just the deadpan face shot is enough to make me burst out laughing.
Very foggy; again, why I got lights. Allowed the headlight to burn out over the last couple of weeks so I could give it a full charge. My mechanical ineptitude is well-documented. I don't really understand these batteries, and got somewhat conflicting info in the instructions (how do you drive a technical writer crazy?).
I really wish cars would move at least a little bit into the oncoming lane (when no traffic is actually oncoming) to pass me. If nothing else, it shows that they see me. It would be so easy to hit something unexpected on the shoulder and swerve/fall out into the driving lane... When I'm driving (even before I started biking regularly) I consider this when passing peds or cyclists or horses - give at least their full height in lateral room to fall.
Great Egret in one of the fields on Skillman - they're very beautiful birds, and large, yet they have a certain lack of grace that is comical, and when you see one "outstanding in his field," he's usually looking to scare up a meal, with that hunched-over, undertakerish look of a vulture.
Lessee, movies: last night, "The Contender" and "Meet the Parents."
The Contender: Jeff Bridges sleeping through a(nother?) presidential performance, and Gary Oldman typically excellent (and difficult to identify). Joan Allen playing a senator with almost-impossible integrity, nominated for Vice President, when an indiscretion from her past causes problems. Good cast, engaging enough story. It could happen here, but I don't suppose it would play out like this.
Meet the Parents: Funny, the kind of slapstick where you're slightly embarrassed to be laughing out loud at Ben Stiller's misfortune, but Stiller has a face that's just MADE for misfortune, and there are some moments where just the deadpan face shot is enough to make me burst out laughing.
Wednesday, March 07, 2001
727.1.
Beautiful morning, just perfect. The bike ride does a lot for me.
Those who may read this... may think it's pretty lame to base a blog on bike riding when it's only like 8 miles per day, when "serious" cyclists may do 100 or more miles in a given day. And why it's "Road Rash" when people like Johnny Knoxville do road rash infinitely better than I ever could or would (and indeed, I have yet to take a fall, knock wood). I guess it's more a journal than a bike-riding thing, but the bike-riding definitely drives it. "Road Rash" just came to mind when I created it; I might've come up with something more clever and more germane, but there it is. I've been wanting for some time to catalog some of the movies I watch, so I get to do that too.
Today's ride was about enjoying the view, and about taking out a little bit of anger (on the uphills).
Peach-colored cloud layer above a strip of blue sky above low-lying tule fog, layers of my morning parfait (that's french, and something of a pun). The cattle on Skillman watch me cruise by... Up the Fair Ave hill in 2-5 gear has become my morning sweat-breaker. Right after this hill, there's a pretty deep down-and-up that gives a very brief respite from pedalling before requiring all I've got to power up the other side in 3-8 (sometimes clicking down to 2-8, 2-5, at the very top if I don't get enough momentum). These are the only real hills on my short route. When Fair turns onto Bailey, that's a nice long 20mph downhill to Petaluma Blvd and the traffic.
No 10% loan. I am a bad credit risk, though I have no debts and a relatively large disposable income each month after rent & expenses. I want a fun new truck, with power and payload, but after more thought, I REALLY don't want to pay 33% interest to get there. Granted, if I pay early, that 33% goes down significantly. But it could be that if I save more money while driving for free in the Mustang (and the bike!) for a few months, I can do a lot better and get an '01 model when they're clearing them for the '02s, with a hefty down payment as well, and not find myself beholden for the next 5, 6 years of my life. I'm happier and happier about this decision as I spend more time NOT in debt...
Big work project will be starting soon, and I'm actually pretty excited about it (but farbeit from ME to ever show it!).
Now, your daily IMDB-linked movie. "Damn Yankees!" last night. Not really up my alley, but hoo-ha, that Gwen Verdon , who died last year, is stunning as "Lola." I now understand the popularity of that "Whatever Lola Wants" song, as she sang and danced it in the movie. She was funny, sweet, goofy, and sexy in that sequence, and in the movie as a whole, about the only high point for me. Ray Walston (who died 1/1/ THIS year) is about one spiral-cut away from full-on Shatner ham (but hey, some good quotes at the IMDB link above - I'd better get him into "Born Today"). Tab Hunter (not dead, but going on 70 years old) has a few moments (the heavy-drinking scene is pretty remarkable), and is pretty convincing as a naive, stupid, aw-shucks ballplayer, but overall I can't tell how much of THAT is acting.
Beautiful morning, just perfect. The bike ride does a lot for me.
Those who may read this... may think it's pretty lame to base a blog on bike riding when it's only like 8 miles per day, when "serious" cyclists may do 100 or more miles in a given day. And why it's "Road Rash" when people like Johnny Knoxville do road rash infinitely better than I ever could or would (and indeed, I have yet to take a fall, knock wood). I guess it's more a journal than a bike-riding thing, but the bike-riding definitely drives it. "Road Rash" just came to mind when I created it; I might've come up with something more clever and more germane, but there it is. I've been wanting for some time to catalog some of the movies I watch, so I get to do that too.
Today's ride was about enjoying the view, and about taking out a little bit of anger (on the uphills).
Peach-colored cloud layer above a strip of blue sky above low-lying tule fog, layers of my morning parfait (that's french, and something of a pun). The cattle on Skillman watch me cruise by... Up the Fair Ave hill in 2-5 gear has become my morning sweat-breaker. Right after this hill, there's a pretty deep down-and-up that gives a very brief respite from pedalling before requiring all I've got to power up the other side in 3-8 (sometimes clicking down to 2-8, 2-5, at the very top if I don't get enough momentum). These are the only real hills on my short route. When Fair turns onto Bailey, that's a nice long 20mph downhill to Petaluma Blvd and the traffic.
No 10% loan. I am a bad credit risk, though I have no debts and a relatively large disposable income each month after rent & expenses. I want a fun new truck, with power and payload, but after more thought, I REALLY don't want to pay 33% interest to get there. Granted, if I pay early, that 33% goes down significantly. But it could be that if I save more money while driving for free in the Mustang (and the bike!) for a few months, I can do a lot better and get an '01 model when they're clearing them for the '02s, with a hefty down payment as well, and not find myself beholden for the next 5, 6 years of my life. I'm happier and happier about this decision as I spend more time NOT in debt...
Big work project will be starting soon, and I'm actually pretty excited about it (but farbeit from ME to ever show it!).
Now, your daily IMDB-linked movie. "Damn Yankees!" last night. Not really up my alley, but hoo-ha, that Gwen Verdon , who died last year, is stunning as "Lola." I now understand the popularity of that "Whatever Lola Wants" song, as she sang and danced it in the movie. She was funny, sweet, goofy, and sexy in that sequence, and in the movie as a whole, about the only high point for me. Ray Walston (who died 1/1/ THIS year) is about one spiral-cut away from full-on Shatner ham (but hey, some good quotes at the IMDB link above - I'd better get him into "Born Today"). Tab Hunter (not dead, but going on 70 years old) has a few moments (the heavy-drinking scene is pretty remarkable), and is pretty convincing as a naive, stupid, aw-shucks ballplayer, but overall I can't tell how much of THAT is acting.
Tuesday, March 06, 2001
719.6.
Drove yesterday to do some errands, and it was raining pretty much all day anyway.
I hate these times when I skip the bike ride on a friday or monday (and the weekend between); it seems like I can almost feel the loss of physical strength (not to mention wind).
Nurse Betty. A likeable movie - give it 4 or 5 out of 10. But Renee Zelweiger gives me the creeps. Now I can't remember the name of the other... Waking the Dead. Also a decent enough film, but really a little melodramatic, and the actors (Billy Crudup and the Ali-McGraw-ish Jennifer Connelly) didn't really carry it off. Nothing worse than watching a couple of actors "weeping their eyes out" and being almost entirely unaffected!
Overdressed for biking today - cloudy out, but I don't think it's actually going to rain. So I could've packed the rainjacket in, and probably will pack it out. Lots of wind in the weekend storms - lots of debris on the road, especially on the shoulder where I ride...
Test drove three very different cars Saturday: Dodge Dakota 4x4, Nissan XTerra, and Toyota RAV4. All three were suitable to a particular niche, I suppose.
Liked the Dodge quite a bit, except that the bench seat was not very comfortable for a long ride (which is what I hope to do most with this vehicle). Low front of roof had us leaning forward to peer out - definitely want a sunroof (and don't really need the overhead console). It feels really solid. Part-time 4WD seems like a good idea. 4.7L V-8 very nice, and "4WD-Lo" gave a really powerful feeling.
The XTerra was pretty cool, but the salesman who took us out seemed to get nervous suddenly and claimed to need to get back to the showroom because they were short-handed. Excuse me, but if I'm going to spend 20k on a vehicle, a 20-minute drive ain't gonna sell it to me. There was a clunk when we came to a stop sometimes - may be something normal with full-time 4WD.
Toyota dealer claimed there were no 5-speed RAV4s available (there's one in the parking lot here at work, bought nearby in San Rafael), and we ended up driving a 4-cylinder 2WD automatic - a car we had no interest in buying. With rear window down, HUGE amount of wind-buffeting noise on that car. The XTerra is cool, but I got a lot better feeling from the Dakota.
Dodge dealer from Oakland calling me last night. All I want is a freakin' quote, and I specifically note "please no calls" on every internet form where I have the choice, and I have spent time selecting the options I want on a web page, and still these guys call. His quote was over 25k, with the SLT package.
And we have the "Sport" package and the "XL" and the "SE" and the "SOB" with wildly-varying prices for each, and different stories about what the package actually contains... Makes it (intentionally) difficult to compare two similar cars.
Oh well. Waiting on a potential better (like, 4% better!) APR loan offer from the local credit union, but do have preapproved loan in hand at 14%.
Drove yesterday to do some errands, and it was raining pretty much all day anyway.
I hate these times when I skip the bike ride on a friday or monday (and the weekend between); it seems like I can almost feel the loss of physical strength (not to mention wind).
Nurse Betty. A likeable movie - give it 4 or 5 out of 10. But Renee Zelweiger gives me the creeps. Now I can't remember the name of the other... Waking the Dead. Also a decent enough film, but really a little melodramatic, and the actors (Billy Crudup and the Ali-McGraw-ish Jennifer Connelly) didn't really carry it off. Nothing worse than watching a couple of actors "weeping their eyes out" and being almost entirely unaffected!
Overdressed for biking today - cloudy out, but I don't think it's actually going to rain. So I could've packed the rainjacket in, and probably will pack it out. Lots of wind in the weekend storms - lots of debris on the road, especially on the shoulder where I ride...
Test drove three very different cars Saturday: Dodge Dakota 4x4, Nissan XTerra, and Toyota RAV4. All three were suitable to a particular niche, I suppose.
Liked the Dodge quite a bit, except that the bench seat was not very comfortable for a long ride (which is what I hope to do most with this vehicle). Low front of roof had us leaning forward to peer out - definitely want a sunroof (and don't really need the overhead console). It feels really solid. Part-time 4WD seems like a good idea. 4.7L V-8 very nice, and "4WD-Lo" gave a really powerful feeling.
The XTerra was pretty cool, but the salesman who took us out seemed to get nervous suddenly and claimed to need to get back to the showroom because they were short-handed. Excuse me, but if I'm going to spend 20k on a vehicle, a 20-minute drive ain't gonna sell it to me. There was a clunk when we came to a stop sometimes - may be something normal with full-time 4WD.
Toyota dealer claimed there were no 5-speed RAV4s available (there's one in the parking lot here at work, bought nearby in San Rafael), and we ended up driving a 4-cylinder 2WD automatic - a car we had no interest in buying. With rear window down, HUGE amount of wind-buffeting noise on that car. The XTerra is cool, but I got a lot better feeling from the Dakota.
Dodge dealer from Oakland calling me last night. All I want is a freakin' quote, and I specifically note "please no calls" on every internet form where I have the choice, and I have spent time selecting the options I want on a web page, and still these guys call. His quote was over 25k, with the SLT package.
And we have the "Sport" package and the "XL" and the "SE" and the "SOB" with wildly-varying prices for each, and different stories about what the package actually contains... Makes it (intentionally) difficult to compare two similar cars.
Oh well. Waiting on a potential better (like, 4% better!) APR loan offer from the local credit union, but do have preapproved loan in hand at 14%.
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