Thursday, March 27, 2008
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
I ...
... was sorting through a bunch of old stuff. And I found these in the same box. Notice the dates and the late night indication on that ticket. I think that night I had the date with Rosemary where we danced in the middle of Broadway to some crazy latin cab radio music. There's unrequited ...
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Happy Easter!!
Yep, This morning at preordained time of 6:00, no, 8:00, uh, 9:30 the mushroom girl and I met at the Sawyer Camp trailhead for a 12 mile ride amidst the strollers, bikes, pedestrians, skaters, and the like.
It was a chatty, casual ride and included a bit of a hill climb, and was a nice workout. A bunch of cars were broken into at the trailhead (actually, according to the Sheriff we talked to, 8 cars at various points along skyline road and the trail heads at both ends). It is a hassle to have your stuff get ripped off and your car broken into, not to mention the possible ramifications of having identity violated and credit used.
A short break at the halfway point.
The view of Crystal Springs Reservoir from the trail.
So, then I went home and switched bikes for the Surly ... to take it out to Waterdog Lake for it's maiden voyage. Everything works well and the bike seems very sure-footed. I can see where I might be able to get into more serious trouble.
It was gorgeous out.
The route was three and a half miles, and I plotted the distance/route with the onboard gps and downloaded it to the TOPO map program. I missed the real time speed indications of a computer, so I may have to get one. I do like the added stat's from a gps though, like the 473 feet of elevation change during the ride, and being able to see the elevation plotted on an xy coordinate system. All good.
The implications of using a gps on a bike provide the obvious conclusion that greater wilderness travel than ever before will be possible, despite the typical exclusion of bikes in "wilderness" areas.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
The Details
Shimano hubs.
A Bell, A light, destination label, really cheap headset™, and some hefty chunks of aluminum.
Okay -- so these darling wheels are Schrader, which makes a 700c x 2.1 inch tube really hard to find -- turns out Bikeman.com has some.
Shimano Deore derailler, and Sram Powerglide II 34 with creepyLotsOfGears™.
Used Shimano SPD pedals ... and Suntour SR triple Crankset which I'll need to shift by hand. Additionally there's a Brooks saddle, Panaracer 29" x 2.1" tires and a hefty™ seat bag. With all the frills, it's about 30 lbs. and gosh -- it hums when I ride it.
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Loof closely at this warning label found on the stem. This product is not recommended downhill competition, stunt jumping, or any aggressive off-road riding. This probably needs to be fixed. I am going to have to make a shirt that says that.
I am reminded of a few things after reading that. One -- that I walked out into the mud flats once when I was about 8 and got seriously stuck, two -- that I rode a hacked down shopping cart go cart off the levy in that very same spot, one of my earliest and most painful off-road experiences. Three -- that I broke a stringray like bike (find one for yourself over at the Unimart) in the chain stay area by taking it down that very same levy out where that Japan Air Lines airplane went into the bay (we rode our bikes two miles out to see it). After breaking my bicycle, I had to walk home dragging it. And four, that I saw an airplane crash site in the Superstition Wilderness during the ill-fated descent of Siphon Draw that
It's a Bike ...
"Wow that's nice." "Thanks," says I. "Hey is that an '08?" "Dude, it's a bike."
Let's just say that my bike was the most frequent topic of discussion over at the bike shop. At least while I was there. It's very sweet, methinks.
Friday, March 21, 2008
It's Here
Well, I was surprised to find that it was made in Taiwan. And showing some surface scratches.
Gussetted head tube.
With some stuff on it.
The frame has nice curves.
I am missing a couple of key parts. The headset ... And honestly, I forgot that crank and bottom bracket removal requires special tools.
Gilby, I am thinking you'll notice the Brooks™ saddle.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Deciding to Go
"All this flowing water
has got my mind wandering
Do you ever finally reach
a point of knowing
or do you just wake up one day
and say I am going?
What will I tell you
when you ask me why I'm crying?
Will I point above
at the Red Tail gracefully soaring
or down to below where its prey
is quietly trembling?"1
I was driving from L.A. to Joshua Tree, and thinking about what Edward Abbey said about there being no reason to go to L.A. and how he didn't (he went to the Havasupai instead), and thinking about my friend's dead father and also his sister, who had just cooked dinner for us. And then about how my lies about the ashes of our fathers justified the salvation of those two father's children by their basking in the wilderness.
I'll need to confess that sin someday. Maybe today.
Imagine having to go to such great lengths to explain taking 2 days off just one week after you lifelong friend's father has died. We banish our failings to the dirt of the desert, finding peace in the only harmony we know; our developing oneness with the wilderness. Being one with the world is so simple, so fulfilling, the evidence of it simple sand in the shoes of an everyday life.
Mac never spent much time with me in the wilderness. But his life and knowledge of the wilderness, his savvy and wisdom, even the very weapons of his hunter spirit, have been shared with me through my friendship with his son. I am so much better off having known this man, Mac.
Yep, I was driving along against the pre-dawn Monday rush from the desert outlife into an urban world, cautiously fighting my own transformation, by playing endlessly with my phone, and thinking of Abbey. If Phoenix is a cancer, than Los Angeles is a pox; not a pox on humanity, just on the desert. Thinking quietly of Abbey and my upcoming birthday, and the Adirondacks, and my children, and John Muir, and Ansel Adams, and wondering at how many years have passed.
The sun was cracking open the sky.
Palm Springs was passing behind me and before me lay the Mohave. An uncharted wilderness of the military, bombing runs and the omnipresent creosote, a playground of outlaws, wild horses and the occasional border patrol. Thank god and Edward Abbey. I felt like I was coming home.
Me -- finding a home in the Mohave. I should confess that.
I decided that I need to go to the wilderness and write my story.
It's not the celibate story of Thoreau, nor the hardened wilderness of Hemingway, not Abbey's tale of love, nor a sad tragedy of Alexander Supertramp. It's a story of joy, and reverence, and abandon. It's the fly fisherman of my grandfather, the goose hunter of my father, it's the happy hiking guy and prospecting in the Sierras, it's tube rides on Cache creek with my crazy brother, and skiing with my overly sane one. It's me on Steptoe Butte listening to a Russian painter explain to me that the ants crawl into the pine cones when it's about to rain. It's the Colorado in a raft, barefoot hikes in the Rockies, an icy swim in the Couer D'Alene River, or a just a simple hike to a wilderness hot springs carrying a French woman. C'est la vie.
I think there might be more to confess. I think I am gonna just go ahead and do it.
1The Cowboy Junkies, Good Friday
has got my mind wandering
Do you ever finally reach
a point of knowing
or do you just wake up one day
and say I am going?
What will I tell you
when you ask me why I'm crying?
Will I point above
at the Red Tail gracefully soaring
or down to below where its prey
is quietly trembling?"1
I was driving from L.A. to Joshua Tree, and thinking about what Edward Abbey said about there being no reason to go to L.A. and how he didn't (he went to the Havasupai instead), and thinking about my friend's dead father and also his sister, who had just cooked dinner for us. And then about how my lies about the ashes of our fathers justified the salvation of those two father's children by their basking in the wilderness.
I'll need to confess that sin someday. Maybe today.
Imagine having to go to such great lengths to explain taking 2 days off just one week after you lifelong friend's father has died. We banish our failings to the dirt of the desert, finding peace in the only harmony we know; our developing oneness with the wilderness. Being one with the world is so simple, so fulfilling, the evidence of it simple sand in the shoes of an everyday life.
Mac never spent much time with me in the wilderness. But his life and knowledge of the wilderness, his savvy and wisdom, even the very weapons of his hunter spirit, have been shared with me through my friendship with his son. I am so much better off having known this man, Mac.
Yep, I was driving along against the pre-dawn Monday rush from the desert outlife into an urban world, cautiously fighting my own transformation, by playing endlessly with my phone, and thinking of Abbey. If Phoenix is a cancer, than Los Angeles is a pox; not a pox on humanity, just on the desert. Thinking quietly of Abbey and my upcoming birthday, and the Adirondacks, and my children, and John Muir, and Ansel Adams, and wondering at how many years have passed.
The sun was cracking open the sky.
Palm Springs was passing behind me and before me lay the Mohave. An uncharted wilderness of the military, bombing runs and the omnipresent creosote, a playground of outlaws, wild horses and the occasional border patrol. Thank god and Edward Abbey. I felt like I was coming home.
Me -- finding a home in the Mohave. I should confess that.
I decided that I need to go to the wilderness and write my story.
It's not the celibate story of Thoreau, nor the hardened wilderness of Hemingway, not Abbey's tale of love, nor a sad tragedy of Alexander Supertramp. It's a story of joy, and reverence, and abandon. It's the fly fisherman of my grandfather, the goose hunter of my father, it's the happy hiking guy and prospecting in the Sierras, it's tube rides on Cache creek with my crazy brother, and skiing with my overly sane one. It's me on Steptoe Butte listening to a Russian painter explain to me that the ants crawl into the pine cones when it's about to rain. It's the Colorado in a raft, barefoot hikes in the Rockies, an icy swim in the Couer D'Alene River, or a just a simple hike to a wilderness hot springs carrying a French woman. C'est la vie.
I think there might be more to confess. I think I am gonna just go ahead and do it.
1The Cowboy Junkies, Good Friday
Saturday, March 15, 2008
It's a Question of Aesthetics
I was an undergrad at the California State University in Hayward in 1993, and was really ready to graduate. I had applied to grad school and been accepted, and although I still had 2 quarters of course work to complete, there was really only one quarter remaining before I had to start graduate work.
So I concocted a crazy plan. Take all the classes (30 units) in one quarter, and if I don't pass -- take an incomplete and finish in the few remaining weeks. That required that I get the Dean's approval, and I swear that's the only time I ever met him.
Dr. Russ Abrams, a philosopher, after accepting my initial argument that, as a senior and fairly smart guy, I could probably easily pass his freshman level course in Clear Thinking if I only attended every other class (since he seemed to do everthing twice), seemed genuinely glad to see me when I showed at his class every other session. I was candid, and so was he; I asked the frequent question and he needed that. So we got along fine.
When I got the first test score back and it was an 18%, I freaked, confident I was going to fail. The highest score was a 98 and I was second, and as it turns out, a "B".
So we marched through 11 weeks of that ... me with an 18% B and he and I enjoying delightful conversations about my grandmother the astronaut, and other unbelievable but possibly true characters. I succeeded despite such poor attendance, and he revealed that I deserved an "A", however, since I had taken the course pass/fail ... I would just pass. Rumour has it that had I taken all those 30 units for grades I would have graduated summa cum laude. But, that's just a rumour.
On the final lecture Russ gave me a great treat. He made the astounding argument that Mathematics, because of it's principle of elegance, ultimately is founded on a principle of art. I don't think I have failed him at all in taking this to mean that Art itself is of the highest order in the realm of knowledge. I have many arguments in my life about the importance of art in understanding the world.
SO I was a bit surprised during the last job interview I went to when I was informed "I don't think I've ever interviewed any one with a Master of Fine Arts degree." "Then I guess it's your lucky day," says I. Guess who didn't get the job.
User Interface design, games, usage, etc. ... are all about aesthetics, which I am a recognized expert in. I don't know what they were thinking. I think they might have been a bit full of themselves.
A lot of what we do in our lives is about aesthetics ... In San Francisco, they made it against the law to use styrofoam containers for take out food, and outlawed plastic bags at grocery stores because they are bad for the environment. Personally I think that the noise stryrofoam makes would have been sufficient cause, not to mention the smell of it when it vaporizes. Or the fact that everyone in town knows what you've bought because it's in a shapeless, formless, semi-transparent, plastic bag. A paper bag has strength, character, wisdom, and it's a pretty good source of fuel. A paper bag is much more aesthically pleasing than a plastic bag.
But never mind that. It was the right thing to do -- and since we all hate that sound -- we're all better off. Amen.
This week, I am going to Durango, Colorado with my son, to look at going to college there. He doesn't really want to go. I said "Whoa, I would go there." Skiing, rafting, hiking, the San Juan mountains, nice. Wilderness. He doesn't want to go to Colorado. He wants to stay here. Even my son is making aesthetic choices. He doesn't want the wilderness, he wants to be in the city. Here.
Here. I am working in information. I live in a house that is shared by my family. I am a contractor, a mercenary. A hacker. My contract is up in May. My kids are both adults. I had this idea that I might go get a summer job and spend my summer in Alaska, Moab, or Yosemite, or Yellowstone ... ya know, drop out for a bit. Hike the Pacific Crest Trail.
Now, my current assignment would like to make me permanent. That is going to screw my plan. My job is not that attractive. It's really about aesthetics. I think I'll tell them no. And go anyway.
So I concocted a crazy plan. Take all the classes (30 units) in one quarter, and if I don't pass -- take an incomplete and finish in the few remaining weeks. That required that I get the Dean's approval, and I swear that's the only time I ever met him.
Dr. Russ Abrams, a philosopher, after accepting my initial argument that, as a senior and fairly smart guy, I could probably easily pass his freshman level course in Clear Thinking if I only attended every other class (since he seemed to do everthing twice), seemed genuinely glad to see me when I showed at his class every other session. I was candid, and so was he; I asked the frequent question and he needed that. So we got along fine.
When I got the first test score back and it was an 18%, I freaked, confident I was going to fail. The highest score was a 98 and I was second, and as it turns out, a "B".
So we marched through 11 weeks of that ... me with an 18% B and he and I enjoying delightful conversations about my grandmother the astronaut, and other unbelievable but possibly true characters. I succeeded despite such poor attendance, and he revealed that I deserved an "A", however, since I had taken the course pass/fail ... I would just pass. Rumour has it that had I taken all those 30 units for grades I would have graduated summa cum laude. But, that's just a rumour.
On the final lecture Russ gave me a great treat. He made the astounding argument that Mathematics, because of it's principle of elegance, ultimately is founded on a principle of art. I don't think I have failed him at all in taking this to mean that Art itself is of the highest order in the realm of knowledge. I have many arguments in my life about the importance of art in understanding the world.
SO I was a bit surprised during the last job interview I went to when I was informed "I don't think I've ever interviewed any one with a Master of Fine Arts degree." "Then I guess it's your lucky day," says I. Guess who didn't get the job.
User Interface design, games, usage, etc. ... are all about aesthetics, which I am a recognized expert in. I don't know what they were thinking. I think they might have been a bit full of themselves.
A lot of what we do in our lives is about aesthetics ... In San Francisco, they made it against the law to use styrofoam containers for take out food, and outlawed plastic bags at grocery stores because they are bad for the environment. Personally I think that the noise stryrofoam makes would have been sufficient cause, not to mention the smell of it when it vaporizes. Or the fact that everyone in town knows what you've bought because it's in a shapeless, formless, semi-transparent, plastic bag. A paper bag has strength, character, wisdom, and it's a pretty good source of fuel. A paper bag is much more aesthically pleasing than a plastic bag.
But never mind that. It was the right thing to do -- and since we all hate that sound -- we're all better off. Amen.
This week, I am going to Durango, Colorado with my son, to look at going to college there. He doesn't really want to go. I said "Whoa, I would go there." Skiing, rafting, hiking, the San Juan mountains, nice. Wilderness. He doesn't want to go to Colorado. He wants to stay here. Even my son is making aesthetic choices. He doesn't want the wilderness, he wants to be in the city. Here.
Here. I am working in information. I live in a house that is shared by my family. I am a contractor, a mercenary. A hacker. My contract is up in May. My kids are both adults. I had this idea that I might go get a summer job and spend my summer in Alaska, Moab, or Yosemite, or Yellowstone ... ya know, drop out for a bit. Hike the Pacific Crest Trail.
Now, my current assignment would like to make me permanent. That is going to screw my plan. My job is not that attractive. It's really about aesthetics. I think I'll tell them no. And go anyway.
The State of Pickles
I have no idea why I would ever get sweet pickles on a sandwich, but I did. Who ever thought of that? It seems that pickles really aren't all that good anymore; they just don't tast like they used to when my grandmother made them, or when you would find a barrel full of them in the local hardware store. I would eat one of those. Really. Even the best pickles these days are somewhat disappointing.
The state of pickles isn't quite what it used to be. Some things aren't quite as good as they used to be.
I am pretty sure I am not going to be disappointed in having bought one of these. I can't wait for it to get here.
The state of pickles isn't quite what it used to be. Some things aren't quite as good as they used to be.
I am pretty sure I am not going to be disappointed in having bought one of these. I can't wait for it to get here.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Sunday, March 9, 2008
... I'm Grounded
The finger injury has me effectively grounded. Period. No climbing. The mushroom girl and I spent the day with her bike. Fixing it up , and buying stuff for it. Well we didn't buy a rack. And lthen we didn't buy tires. And we didn't look at used bikes. And we didn't find a new wheel.
We did tweak on it, oil it a bit, adjust the brakes, and generally spend some time learning about the MGirl's bike and caressing it. We avoiding lunch and then took it for a ride.
today's miles: about 20
temp: warm and windy.
We took the route out by the bay.
It was good out there but the wsurf was up. We rode the ten miles down without breaking a sweat -- talking and chatting. We turned back and into the wind and the conversation stopped. The wind roared and it was a hump getting back. The Mgirl demonstrated her youth by leaving me behind immediately, and I never saw her again until I was back at the truck. At one point I was trying to catch her -- but there was no way for me to bridge the gap.
It's cool though. The Mgirl's bike worked well and the wind gave us a big workout and it was all fun.
Angel and the Mgirl had a birthday tonight. So we drank a bit and shot cutthoat at the pool hall.
Friday, March 7, 2008
The Tapeworm is Angry
Some of you may remember this about the ultimate in easy to
I sat across from my boss every day for about eight months and at about 2:30 it would start. The foraging. I would begin to prowl around the kitchen and work areas, looking for uneaten carbohydrates, ice cream bars, or an occasional cup of moose stew, which was often, damned hard to find, in that office in San Francisco. Frankly, I was hungry, and it was obvious.
One day, after a late lunch, my boss looks up at about 3:15 and says, "How's the tapeworm doing?" There was an eff-load of laughter right after that. I said, "Wha?" "Your tapeworm. Howse he doing?" More laughter. Hmmmm.
So the other night I was eating ScreamingEffingHot™ with chunksOfHabanero™ Thai food with my friend, and I belched rather profoundly. He said, "I think the tapeworm is angry." More laughter.
The Mushroom Girl and I are going to Berkeley tomorrow shopping for a used bike. so maybe after that I can tell the story about the elder brother and the Atkins diet, and about the guy who got fired for hoarding hot chocolate in his locker at work, and how if you wait for the potato chips to be put out at work you'll starve to death, because -- after all -- those are *bad* for you, ... mmm ... they're carbs, so we don't want you to have them all the time.
Pass the pasta please.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Saturday, February 23, 2008
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Friday, February 22, 2008
Pale Sun Playlist
http://rhap-app04.int.real.com/rhaplink?rhapid=3763916&type=playlist&title=Pale+Sun&from=real
1. Por Un Amor - Linda Ronstadt
2. Pale Sun - Cowboy Junkies
3. Good Friday - Cowboy Junkies
4. When It Rains - Tish Hinojosa
5. The Redtail Hawk - Kate Wolf
6. Sweet Jane - Cowboy Junkies
7. Personal Jesus - Depeche Mode
8. Sister Morphine - Marianne Faithfull
9. Faithless Love - (with J.D. Souther) - Linda Ronstadt
10. Southland In The Springtime - Indigo Girls
11. You Finally Said Something Good (When You Said Goodbye) - Teddy Thompson
12. Deperado - Linda Ronstadt
13. Hunted - Cowboy Junkies
14. As If Your Life Depended On It - Juliana Hatfield
15. Closer To Fine - Indigo Girls
16. Blasphemous Rumours - Depeche Mode
17. Hickory Wind (Alternate Version) - Gram Parsons
18. Jesus, Take The Wheel - Carrie Underwood
19. Secure Yourself - Indigo Girls
20. If You Were The Woman And I Was The Man - Cowboy Junkies
21. Before He Cheats - Carrie Underwood
22. Our Song - Taylor Swift
23. Good Friday - Cowboy Junkies
24. Policy Of Truth - Depeche Mode
25. Sun Comes Up, It's Tuesday Morning - Cowboy Junkies
26. Aquella Noche - Tish Hinojosa
27. Welcome Me - (live) - Indigo Girls
28. Murder, Tonight, In The Trailer Park - Cowboy Junkies
29. Walking After Midnight - Cowboy Junkies
30. Pushing The Needle Too Far - Indigo Girls
31. Sellout - Juliana Hatfield
32. Losing My Religion - R.E.M.
33. Enjoy The Silence - Depeche Mode
34. Something In The Rain - Tish Hinojosa
35. You Finally Said Something Good (When You Said Goodbye) - Teddy Thompson
1. Por Un Amor - Linda Ronstadt
2. Pale Sun - Cowboy Junkies
3. Good Friday - Cowboy Junkies
4. When It Rains - Tish Hinojosa
5. The Redtail Hawk - Kate Wolf
6. Sweet Jane - Cowboy Junkies
7. Personal Jesus - Depeche Mode
8. Sister Morphine - Marianne Faithfull
9. Faithless Love - (with J.D. Souther) - Linda Ronstadt
10. Southland In The Springtime - Indigo Girls
11. You Finally Said Something Good (When You Said Goodbye) - Teddy Thompson
12. Deperado - Linda Ronstadt
13. Hunted - Cowboy Junkies
14. As If Your Life Depended On It - Juliana Hatfield
15. Closer To Fine - Indigo Girls
16. Blasphemous Rumours - Depeche Mode
17. Hickory Wind (Alternate Version) - Gram Parsons
18. Jesus, Take The Wheel - Carrie Underwood
19. Secure Yourself - Indigo Girls
20. If You Were The Woman And I Was The Man - Cowboy Junkies
21. Before He Cheats - Carrie Underwood
22. Our Song - Taylor Swift
23. Good Friday - Cowboy Junkies
24. Policy Of Truth - Depeche Mode
25. Sun Comes Up, It's Tuesday Morning - Cowboy Junkies
26. Aquella Noche - Tish Hinojosa
27. Welcome Me - (live) - Indigo Girls
28. Murder, Tonight, In The Trailer Park - Cowboy Junkies
29. Walking After Midnight - Cowboy Junkies
30. Pushing The Needle Too Far - Indigo Girls
31. Sellout - Juliana Hatfield
32. Losing My Religion - R.E.M.
33. Enjoy The Silence - Depeche Mode
34. Something In The Rain - Tish Hinojosa
35. You Finally Said Something Good (When You Said Goodbye) - Teddy Thompson
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