Monday, June 30, 2008

The demon sun

The thing about sunscreen is: It doesn't always work. As proven by the giant swaths of burnt skin on my body after several hours of a Saturday in the sun. Now, it may be that I'm not smart enough to apply said sunscreen properly (that's proably the best guess). Or, that after a couple of turns swimming in the lake, the sunscreen washed off and I didn't think to reapply. Whatever the reason, I now have a giant red blotch (that totally describes it best) on the left side of my stomach, the outside of both shoulders and the middle of both thighs. It don't hurt exactly (although now it is starting to itch) but I feel like my body temperature is a good 10 degrees more than usual. Which is fine, until I get a breeze coming toward me and then suddenly I've got goosebumps everywhere. This is all so confusing for someone who doesn't get much sun and who hasn't had a sunburn since he was 14.

No. 8

Take notes, she said.
Which he did, mostly because he was sure it was in his job description somewhere, but also because she was woman of notoriously few words and if she was talking, there was something to be learned. He didn't want to miss a thing.
She used to take her own notes, thousands of pages worth, scribbled down in a never ending series of black moleskin books that she kept in a sloppy pile by her bed. On her worst days she would lock herself in her room and sit cross-legged on the floor reading through each book, trying to connect the dots of her life. Now, she had him do it for her.

Friday, June 27, 2008

Get in the car!

I gave a ride to a stranger.

He's at the pay phone outside the liquor store and I am waiting to pull into traffic and it's late and hot, Fresno hot, and the windows are down and he's walking, somewhat limping, toward me and he says: "Hey, I'm not a bum of nothing, but can you give me a ride. My ankle is busted and I can't really walk." And at the same moment I'm thinking how this might be a bad idea, I'm throwing my crap in the backseat and unlocking the door and letting the guy slide right in.

We drive a total of three blocks, less than a five-minute drive and the whole while I'm trying to evaluate what's the worst that can happen. If he had a gun. If he had a knife. If he decided to just start punching at me. Forget that the guy was being all chatty and seemed perfectly like-able and nice, save for the fact he asked me for a ride and it was late and hot and who does that in this day and age.

What I decided this: A gun would be bad. Big boom. A knife, less bad just because the car is smallish and he was a big guy and sort of crammed in and trying to stab me would be totally awkward from the sitting position. Same with punches. Plus, I'm driving, which gives me the advantage of slamming on the brakes, swearving, etc.

Which brings me to my second thought: Whatever risk I'm taking, he's taking the bigger one. Because I am in control of the car and I could just drive where ever, and who knows what kind of craziness (knife, gun, mace, duct tape, quick ties) I have stashed away under my seat. Or in my pockets. Plus, it was late and hot and I said get in, like it was no deal, and who does that in this day and age?

So, what happend?

Nothing, really. We turn down his street he leans a bit out the window and yells at some lady standing on the corner. "Hey, you can't be out here, it's dark. Get on home, now." Then, he laughs some and says, "It's OK, walks down this street all the time. She lives right there." When we get to his house, he thanks me for the ride. "It's just my ankle, you know. There's nothing left to it. I got no walkabilities."

I drive away laughing.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

No. 7

It's 6:54 a.m. and he's in the kitchen sitting indian style on the counter, drinking coffee in long hot sips and staring, just staring out the window. He feels movement in his guts. A shit's coming on, but he'll sit here while longer. No sense in rushing things. The girl from 120 leaves her apartment, hair still wet. The guy next door sneezes in three loud bursts. The train's rolling by. The day is on and there's nothing much he can do.

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Like/no like/want Vol. 1.

Sorry no links. I am lazy like that.

Like:

* Old 97s 'Blame it on Gravity.' Best band ever? Maybe.
* The Olympic trials. Watched two nights worth of women's gynmasts. If this is what the real deal will be like sign me up. Also: Chris reminded me they also have Aikido/Judo/Kendo/wrestling in the Olympics. I may have to stay up until 3 a.m. to watch, but ... Hold all calls through August.
* Somewhat related: Baseball's College World Series. Caught game one last night on KMJ and I'm kinda hooked. Interested at least. This is new for me.
* Public House. Been there twice. Would go again. Plusses for feeling I'm not settling for crappy beer. I can drink what I would want to drink at home. Like porter. Tasty, tasty black and sweet porter.
* My tabi shoes. It's like being barefoot, only with shoes. With them, I can climb walls. I've been assured of this. Plus, I look like a ninja. An American ninja, perhaps.

No like:

* Gas. Or, more acuratley gas prices. The math is this: Gas=$5 a gallon. My car=20 mpg. Riverpark=20 miles away (round trip). Trip to riverpark=$5. FUCK that. I'll stick to downtown or ride my bike.
* My truck. The one whose transmission just went to shit and cost me $1,400 to repair.
* The heat. It's mostly gone just now, but it will be back. There's no doubt about that. It. Will. Be. Back.

Need:
* A stick bag. For aikido. Because I'd like to ride my bike to and from class, but I haven't figured out how to carry my sticks yet. A stick bag would be the logical solution.
* A new car. Something cheap(ish) and good (good, good) on gas. I will heed my uncle's advice on this one: "Anything more than a Geo Metro is luxury."

Thursday, June 19, 2008

When we become product.

Stumbled across this post, which got me thinking about consumerism (which I've been doing a lot lately) and how I hate that I love to buy things.
No, that's not quite right.
I hate that I feel like I need to buy things.
That's not quite right either.
I hate that I feel like I need things. And that sometimes (not all the time) I cave to those feelings and buy things. And then after, I mostly feel good about it.
Are we following?
It's not that I feel like I should feel bad after. I mean, it's my money and I should be able to do with it whatever I want. It's more that I don't like that I feel the need in the first place. I don't like that things appeal to me on a anything more than a practical level.
Are we following now?
These days it's mostly crap stuff I buy. Clothes. Recently, a pair of tabi (look it up) shoes that I convinced myself I needed for Aikido. Before that was pair of jeans, which I probably did need, but still ... I bought a terribly expensive watch once.
I've gotten rid of a lot of my "consumer baggage," I think. I don't feel compelled to see EVERY SINGLE MOVIE that comes out opening night. And I used to, seriously. I don't buy music as much as I used to either. Even if it is the new album from my favorite band. I never really got into video games, so ...
I'm still putting these thoughts together in my head and trying to be honest in how they figure in to the way I lead my life.
It's just sometimes it feels like all I do is spend money. All I do is buy stuff.
On a related note, if you're interested, there is this book, which talks about some of this stuff.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Spoiler alert: I am gross

There is something about the smell of stale urine you can only get in a men's restroom. OK, I haven't been in too many women's bathrooms (public), but I'm assuming it's a male thing, that terrible fuckin' smell. So, in the restroom just now, looking over at the urinal next to mine (it was empty, you perverts) there was, what appeared to be, dried (or drying) piss. Like, on the top of the urinal. Like, whoever used it last decided to forgo the bowl entirely and just pee where he may. Now, it could have been something else, I suppose. Something that leaves a nice straw yellow residue. But coupled with the smell, I can't really figure what that might be.

***

Speaking of work-related stank: My job just laid off a bunch o' people yesterday. Just like that. Friday, job. Monday, no job. I'm not making any judgment calls, because this is a company and things are bad for the entire industry and you've got to do what you've got to do. But it just sucks, you know. I'm still here and I feel lucky. So... Onward and upward.

***

Noticed I've been looking a lot at people's teeth lately. Well, I'm not sue what would constitute a lot, but I've caught myself doing in more than once. Like totally examining someone's teeth, taking mental notes on color, size, relative straightness and whatnot. I fgure it's because I haven't been to the dentist in awhile and my teeth are not as bright white as they could be. More of a muted yellow (not quite piss-yellow) from all the coffee (and cigar smoke maybe?). Also, they're moving, and I'm totally afraid I'm going to have to get braces again. Not that I would. But when I look at other's people teeth, I find myself wondering how important they are to the overall appearance of that person.
So, if you find me staring at your mouth, now you know.

Friday, June 13, 2008

The things I know could fill a book. Or a magazine at least.

One of the perks of my job is I get to learn new stuff all the time. Fresno's co-housing project, for example. Or Good Compay Players (a whole history) or why a store like Coach (or Flemmings) would want to open up shop in Fresno.

Things I'm learning about just now:

BBQ. From competive BBQers. These aren't your backyard grillers. These are "slow-and-low" smoker types, who think nothing of putting a beef brisket in for 14 hours, getting up in the middle of the night to check the temperature (of both the smoker and the meat) every hour. Pretty hard core. But the result is ... wonderful. A quick factoid: rib meat is not supposed to fall off the bone. That just means it's over cooked.

Gary Selzi. Dude is a drag-racing legend. Apparently, he won the World Championships his first year as a pro and was the first to reach a top speed of 300 miles per hour. He has his own show on ESPN2. It's called "Selzi Says." And he's from Fresno. A quick factoid: A funny car produces 8,000 horses, can reach top speeds of 330 miles per hour and do a quarter-mile in 4.5 seconds. There's 5 Gs on acceleration, 6 Gs when the chute open at the end.

Automobiles. Like the new Jaguar XF, which is supposed to be the I-phone of cars, whatever that means. It's all the rage, for those techno-philes, with i-pod connectivity, blue tooth, a rear-screen something or other. The damn thing great you when you get inside. Seriously. It says hello.

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Things I've recently: Vol. 2

* Made 300 mini-crepes for The Fresno Art Museum's Men Who Cook fundraiser. In truth, I only essembled the crepes, and not all of them at that, and we only got to 250 or so before we had to rush off to the event. So, to summarize: Shannon made the crepes and I had help with the essemblage (smearing on Nutella, putting in a couple beeries and fold, fold, folding) from Brianna and Tory, who were lifesavers, quite literally. If they hadn't been there Shannon and I would have killed each other. Or her me. Or vice-versa. There would have been a news story and everything. As it was, we were a resounding success. You can read all about it if you'd like. There's even a picture.

* Got the band back together. Yes, after a year off or so out of the limelight, It'll Grow Back played a show Tuesday night at the Starline. (I'd include a link, but I figger you can find it). I'd say it was success, though I never really know with these things. I can't see crap witout my glasses and I have to take my glasses off so as to properly "rock out," so I can't see if people are enjoying themselves. They were screaming quite a bit. But it was late and mostly people were drunk. But we got some kind words after the show. I had fun and that's all that matters.

* Left my credit card at the Starline and felt like an idiot. To set the scene: Arrive at the bar/club at nine or so. Get a drink. Hand bartender my credit card. She says, 'Want to keep this open?' My thought: Don't do it. It's early in the night and you're totally not going to remember to pick this thing up in three hours. No. No. No. So, I said yes. Didn't get a second drink. Didn't realize I'd left it until I was in the shower the next morning. Had to go down to the Starline twice to pick the thing up. The first time the manager wasn't there. To their credit, they were very nice and helpful with the whole thing. They probably see it often.

* Drank a black and tan at the Public House. For anyone who hasn't been there, it's totally not as lame as it could be. Actually, it's pretty cozy and the patio is nice and they have ALL SORTS of good alocholic beverages for those who like that sort of thing. Beers and Whiskeys and whatnot. I hear the food is good, but can't vouch for it. Yes, the place is made of plastered fake rocks. No, it's probably nothing like an "actual" publik house. But it has Murphys and Fullers on tap, so...

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Updating with the updates.

Things I've done recently:

* Turned 30. With very little fanfare. Spent the evening in the Bay with people who like me. My take on aging: 30 seem about the same as 29.

* Ran the Bay to Breakers. OK, we jogged, but we jogged the whole way and finished in about an hour and a half. We were 1,000 people shy of making the paper. Next year, next year.

* Saw Iron Maiden. With Anthrax opening. It is amazing how many people still love metal. LOVE! METAL! It just makes me want to thrash my head around and growl like a tiger. Highlight of the night: "Run to the Hills." Ironic moment of the night: A crowd full of metalheads chanting along to "Anti-social."

* Wii bowled for the first time. I was competing in the blogger Olympics, which I lost, but not for lack of trying. Let me say this: Wii bowling in easier, and therefore way more fun than real bowling. But not when you do it all lazy sitting-on-the-couch like. Plus, being in someone's living room is less fun that being in a bowling alley.

* Came across this great diagram that really shored up some of the questions I had about beer. Interesting, no?

* Bought Roky Erikson's "Halloween (Live 1979-1981)." My quick review: Proto-punk goodness from a guy who was from Austin before Austin was cool. This wasn't the album I wanted (that would be "The Evil One") but it was the one I found. Love it. I'm a big fan of live albums when they're done right and for the most part this one is. The recording quality gets a little sloppy toward the end, but the rest of the album more than makes up for it. My fave: "Two Headed Dog." "Bloody Hammer," is a close second.