it breathed on me

Itchy scratchy

2005-09-25T11:01:00.000-07:00

Early last week, emerging from the shower, doing my usual thing of drying off, I came across three interesting, elevated, raised red bumps on my forearm. And these were no mosquito bites. Rather, it looked like an irritation from poison ivy. Being very attuned to the physical state of my body at all times, I immediately began a mental inquiry of places I'd been over the last 3 days. What I came up with was I'd been to school, home, back to school, the library, school again, the liquor store, my job at Oakland, school, and Safeway. These are not likely places one picks up a plant rash so I considered it a freak occurence and went about my day.

Three days later the bumps were still there, in the same condition, and beginning to be a little scratchy.

Friday evening, my roommate Jonathan comes home with a sulking appearance of being in great physical distress. He rolled up his shirt sleeves and immediately my eyes honed in on his wrists and forearms: he was infected too, and by the look of it, in a much worse state than I was in. My instinct for self-preservation immediately kicked in, and I looked at my forearms (still the same) and then started probing Jonathan if he'd been using my hand towel in the bathroom at all. He claimed he didn't.

The next day, Jonathan reports that the poison ivy affliction has spread up his arms and in another more "sensitive" area (zowie) and that he is in immense discomfort. Apparently, his construction job, which is a very sweat-inducing occupation, is the reason why the rash is spreading so profusely. Sweating opens up the pores, the irritation seeps into uninfected skin areas, etc, leading to more hot spots.

While I feel bad for Jonathan, and would like to offer some comfort, I am afraid to get near him. Plus, now I don't want to use any towels in the bathroom until he's better.

The Book of Right-On

2005-09-24T15:47:00.000-07:00

i killed my dinner
with karate

kick him in the face
taste the body

shallow work is
the work that I do

Yes, I shouldn't be out on Shattuck Ave. at 12:30 am, but what's it to you?

2005-09-23T01:24:00.000-07:00

Feeling a tad restless tonight within the confines of my home here on good ol' Bateman Street, I decided to go out on a night stroll at 12:30 a.m. In fact, I just got home a bit ago. I really should head off to bed, but the cold night air kind of woke me up.

I had my ipod on while rambling along. Oh, for reference, the ipod is a good device when you want to go out on a night stroll in a place like Berkeley. You just have to be careful not to turn it up too loudly. You need to be able to hear if someone is creeping up behind you. In Berkeley, that WILL happen, you can count on it, actually. Which is a good segway to recent happenings on Shattuck Avenue.

Shattuck is a commercial street, and at night it can be kind of sparse down there. A couple times, coming from behind me, I heard some terrible squeaking noise. Here was my dilemma: Joanna Newsom was playing so I didn't want to turn down the volume immediately to catch what it was. Also, it could have feasibly been Joanna's voice that was squeaking (she has kind of a quirky sound like that). So I continue walking, and then I begin to hear someone across the street kind of hollering out. Soon I realize that someone is following me on a crappy ass bicycle. The squeaking noise was coming from his brakes which he seemed to really like to manipulate for no reason.

People like that are so strange. I wonder if they are just lonely? I cannot think of any circumstances under which I would begin to follow a stranger in the dead of night on my bicycle, squeaking my breaks, and trying to get their attention. It is quite absurd. And the persistence! This guy must have followed me from 61st Street to the first street north of Alcatraz, which is kind of a ways. I was glad he left me around Prince Street, because that is where I turn right to head home. I didn't really want to bring him back to Bateman Street if at all possible. Bateman is a special place, afterall.

Drawer's log, entry 2

2005-09-22T01:27:00.000-07:00

Since last Friday, I have failed to create any more large-scale amateur masterpieces. I doodled on an envelope of a birthday card I sent my sister today - geraniums - but that's it.

Guilt has led me to somewhat art-related endeavors that take less time than actual drawing. I bought four new Prismacolor pencils today at the little art store that is up and behind Urban Outfitters on Bowditch. And the winners are (drumroll):

Limepeel
Jade Green
Cool Grey
...and something called a "Colorless Blender" - used to smudge other colors with.

I also purchased three new CDs at Rasputin's on Telegraph. I haven't bought CDs in a long time. Nice people there. Some dude working there said he liked my haircut. And the winners are:

My Morning Jacket (from Louisville!)
Sleater-Kinney
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah

So far, MMJ is the favorite.

The evening of conspicuous purchase-making was not quite over. At exactly 9:30 pm, I left the house with C. to go procure some needed and newly absent members of our liquor cabinet. And the winners are:

Jameson (on sale for $15.99....a damn steal, I've paid $25.99 before)
Ketel One
Maker's Mark

What are you wasting your hard-earned money on lately?

War of the wires

2005-09-20T22:54:00.000-07:00

The Internet god, or as I refer to it, the Oracle, is beaming down negative energy on Bateman Street this week. Indeed, our ability to go wireless ever since we switched to cable Internet a while back has been bumpy, unpredictable, a little maddening, and down right frustrating.

All last year we had DSL, but we switched over this summer when our roommate Todd moved out. Todd had the DSL bill in his name and basically insisted on breaking all ties to the house when he vacated, which meant cancelling the DSL service. Since we had Comcast cable anyway, we just decided to bundle it together and have them also be our ISP.

Bad decision on our part. Admittedly.

Cable Internet, while faster in downloading songs, has been giving us a load of trouble. We actually think it's our crappy D-Link router that is the source of the trouble (that the crappy Comcast installation guy told us he preferred). Anyway, it's a damn mess and I've had to revert to a hardwire connection. That leaves my roommate SOL, because we only have one Ethernet cable.

So much for the Internet. And so much to getting anything done tonight because basically my entire academic career is dependent on the Internet. It's a hobbling reality. But it is true.

Back to transcribing notes like a monk...

Song words of wisdom

2005-09-19T21:48:00.000-07:00

Never get so attached to a poem
You forget truth it lacks lyricism.

-J. Newsom

Santa Fe Right of Way, at Francisco & Virginia Streets

2005-09-17T00:08:00.000-07:00

Santa Fe Right of Way, at Francisco & Virginia Streets
Originally uploaded by Ms E.

In lieu of social life, I shall draw

2005-09-16T23:35:00.000-07:00

I used to draw an inordinant amount when I was a kid, and as a result, my affection for the sketching trades waned during the important, formative years of high school. I never took an art class in high school because I thought there were more important things to soldier through (AP Biology...the 2 month lab with fruit flies isn't really helping me RIGHT NOW, is it??). How dumb of me. Despite the fact I always was an A student, I must have been really academically deranged for not have taken art in high school.

That misjudgment later led to to never taking an art class in college because I felt unqualified. Then, by the time I graduated college, I had no formal drawing, painting, or sculpting instruction under my belt. This missing link in my studies would then preclude me declaring a creative-edged specialization in grad school (i.e. urban design, etc.). For this, I have no excuse and can only whimper a timid "whoops."

However, I am not a terrible drawer. In a class I am taking this term, there is an opportunity to draw and sketch. This is what I did exactly from 1:30 p.m. to 3:30 p.m. today, sitting in a sparse, deserted alleyish throughfare that used to be a passenger rail corridor. It came out pretty well. I scanned the image and have emailed it to people in order to gather the positive feedback I require to continue this extracurricular activity. So far, people like it. I will try to do this 1-3 times per week, time and landscape of interest permitting. I was just recounting the benefits to this new activity to a friend today...with drawing, I have something tangible to look at, share, and display. I can keep it. And it doesn't take up much space. Plus, practice makes perfect, right? Things can only get better.

He has the most excellent voice. He could do radio.

2005-09-14T22:43:00.000-07:00

Today, I heard a nice sound. My classmate in my speech and writing class for visual thinkers, who I'll call *Matt Davis, read aloud an excerpt from a book with great care and vocal adeptness. I've told him many times before that he has a tremendous voice. He usually just shrugs his shoulders and says thanks. But he's selling himself short.

I worked in radio production for four years, people. So I know what the hell I am talking about. As soon as possible, Matt should start doing some voiceovers on the side for money while in school. With some luck, he could end up doing some great public radio in the future. He could be the city planning correspondent. Wouldn't that be so cool?

I went to high school with NPR correspondent Ari Shapiro. Ari started his broadcasting career working as an assistant to Nina Totenberg. Now Ari does his own stories. He usually is traveling around, reporting on the vibrant community landscapes of America and beyond. But to be quite honest, his voice isn't that great. He was a theater kid at Beaverton High School, so he tends to project a bit too much in his reporting. But otherwise, he's a thoughtful reporter. I don't think he went to journalism school, either.

I will end this entry with a tribute to my most excellent past boss, George Liston Seay. Now this individual has a voice of gold. His almost 20 years in radio broadcasting is a career to revere. George is quick to mention about the importance of choosing your words and tone carefully. Some days, his voice is like red velvet cake. On other days it's like a bold, smooth vintage Barolo. Even when George is sick and has a hacking cough, he sounds better than me.

*name was not changed to protect identity of future radio personality

I just found him asleep in a folding chair

2005-09-14T00:29:00.000-07:00

My new roommate Jonathan is seriously suffering from sleep deprivation. Either that, or he is incredibly drunk and I can't detect it. I just found him in our kitchen, asleep in a folding chair, with his arms crossed, legs akimbo, and his hat pulled down over his eyes.

I went up to him, poked him in the shoulder, and told him it was my duty to not let him spend the night in such a precarious position.

Thoughts?

2005-09-13T13:48:00.000-07:00

decemberists.jpg
Originally uploaded by Ms E.

Same great band, but a different show altogether

2005-09-13T13:21:00.000-07:00

Monday, September 12 marked the second sold out show in two nights for the Decemberists at the Fillmore in San Francisco. The music program started out with a return to the old: they played what seemed like the entire Tain album right up front.

The band has been continuously on tour since their most recent album, Picaresque, was released in mid-March of 2005. I saw them the day after the album release on March 23 playing at Bimbo's in North Beach. That show featured a full run through of the new album, which was fabulous. It was the first time I'd ever seen this band live, so that performance kind of set the tone for my future expectations. I left Bimbo's that night really energized because the new music was fresh, sharp, and just what I was looking for. Last night they only played three songs from Picaresque, so I get the feeling the band is looking to take a step back for the meantime. They ended this show in the same way as before, with the Mariner's Revenge song.

The majority of the music played at last night's show was older, and a couple songs I'd never even heard. It was a different kind of newness. My friend Tom really liked the performance, he'd never seen them live either.

I hope it was just what he was looking for, too.

The Fox has arrived on Bateman Street

2005-09-11T21:05:00.000-07:00

The Fox has arrived on Bateman Street
Originally uploaded by Ms E.

Mom and the half pipe

2005-09-11T21:04:00.000-07:00

Mom and the half pipe
Originally uploaded by Ms E.

Power to the peaceful

2005-09-10T21:19:00.000-07:00

I attended Saturday afternoon's Power to the Peaceful festival in Golden Gate Park. The festival site was at 25th Avenue, which is the midpoint of GG Park. I was with my 58 year-old mother, who is in town from Portland, Oregon this weekened. I am always up for excuses to do some intensive people watching, and the Power to the Peaceful festival is a great place to find a patch of grass to sit down and gaze at the kooky passersby.

We entered the festival ground from Fulton Street, which runs along the northen edge of GG Park. From there, we followed some people with coolers and lawn chairs to the access gate. Here, you are requested to donate money or canned food. For me, donating canned food seems kind of nuts in a place like this. First of all, carrying canned food to the park is extra weight for the festival attendee. Next, when you sit down and think about it, donating canned food in CALIFORNIA to be delivered to NEW ORLEANS or MISSISSIPPI doesn't make much sense from a transportation/delivery perspective. It would make much more sense to donate money to buy canned goods for delivery in a neighboring state, like Texas or some other nearby place. Transporting canned goods 2/3 the way across the continental United States seems like a disasterous waste of resources, especially considering the cost of fuel nowadays.

So once we get into the festival grounds, mother and I head east to the skateboard halfpipe site they'd set up. We watched some local skateboarders do some amazing and not so amazing board acrobatics for about 20 minutes. Then, we headed west, towards the stage area. We listened to Woody Harrelson introduce Angela Davis, the leader of Berkeley's Free Speech Movement. Her speech first dissed the Bush adminstration. Then she also mentioned getting stuck in traffic on the Bay Bridge getting over to the fair grounds. At this moment, mother and I purchased two hash brownies from some guy selling them out of a cardboard box. Mother claims she felt the effects of the confection. I myself cannot say definitively that there was any real physical effect. Since we've returned from dinner, I just consumed the second one myself. Still waiting for that high.

Several minutes after the brownie procurement, some guy stopped by to talk to me, Julian. Julian is a totally random guy! He purchased my old Gateway computer from me about five months ago that I had listed on Craigslist for $800. I was selling it to upgrade to a smaller, more portable computer. He was with what appeared to be his young son. His son had a long rat tail that was braided. Although the child was kind of grubby, he looked generally well-cared for. Julian didn't mention anything bad about the computer he bought from me, so I was relieved a bit about that.

Now I need to get serious about schoolwork. Drat.

Oh, I now have a car!

Pan Pacific Hotel entrance, Post Street

2005-09-09T21:25:00.000-07:00

Pan Pacific Hotel entrance, Post Street
Originally uploaded by Ms E.

Our "deluxe" room

2005-09-09T21:24:00.000-07:00

Our "deluxe" room
Originally uploaded by Ms E.

The Pan Pacific, San Francisco

2005-09-09T20:56:00.000-07:00

This report comes to you on Friday evening, 8:57 p.m. from the 18th floor of the Pan Pacific Hotel at 500 Post Street in San Francisco. I am staying here for the next two nights with my mother who is in town from Portland over the weekend. She decided when planning this visit that she'd rather not stay in Berkeley and offered to find us a hotel. I was pleasantly surprised when I heard the hotel choice she came up with. I've always wondered what the Pan Pacific was all about.

Last January, this blog reported from the 6th floor of the Sheraton Palace Hotel located on Market Street. The Palace was quite nice, too, but I have a feeling I will enjoy my stay here at the Pan Pacific much more. The Pan Pacific caters after Asian business clientele, so there are nice perks to be had by the lowly pleasure tourist. The hi-speed internet took literally 20 seconds to set up. There are robes. There are wine glasses sitting out. The guest book with the room service menu is immaculately clean and non-grubby. And mother just remarked that the bedsheets have a nice thread count. That's right, mom is already in bed. But for this typist, the evening has hardly begun.

In fact, I will just be in the room for just another hour or so - then I will head to meet up with some of my friends at a watering hole in the Mission, at 16th and Valencia. It's my friend Tom's 25th birthday. Such a significant stepping stone to middle age must be commemorated with a group outing. Therefore, we are going to Blondie's - a forum I've not visited, but have passed by on my way to Casanova. Should be busy. Then I will stumble home, hopefully aided by a taxi.

Tomorrow morning I will check out this place's health center. I could use a workout. Then it's off to GG park with mummy where we will take in the atmosphere. From there, we wander about looking at intersting SF things, like sea lions, breadbowls, and cable cars. At 7:30 we are off to eat at Tablespoon. We come back to the PP, and then I sneak off to another party around 10 in the Western Addition.

They come for your pet kibble...

2005-09-08T20:09:00.000-07:00

They come for your pet kibble...
Originally uploaded by Ms E.

Piercing coon tractor beam eyes

2005-09-08T20:07:00.000-07:00

Piercing coon tractor beam eyes
Originally uploaded by Ms E.

Coon wars, Part 3...maybe Part 4

2005-09-08T18:55:00.000-07:00

The commencement of September means there are only a few weeks until autumn is officially here. And with fall just around the corner that means Nature is plodding her strategy to vigorously shake us out of our bleached-out, summer slumberings. She accomplishes this task in a variety of ways: suddenly, you need a jacket to leave the house; it gets dark earlier without so much as a gentle warning; the air is cold and damp before 10 a.m.; the leaves under your feet aren't green anymore; it goes on and on.

Collectively, all these signals tell you the fall season will be here quite soon. However, the very recent and tactile memories of carefree summer afternoons and evenings of lingering strolls keep one from really processing those signals. For me, I was in this summer-don't-go coma until just last night. While surfing the Internet around 12:30 a.m., which I do a lot, I heard a curious clamor of small feet on my rooftop. First the noises seems sporadic, but soon grew to an alarming intensity.

After thinking about it for a second, I was reminded of a succession of similar events that happened last winter. Yes, the raccoon army had made its bold return to Bateman Street. I hadn't heard a peep from the varmits in nearly 9 months, so their chaotic return kind of threw me off. These particular animals are *winter activated raccoons - meaning they are less of a nuisance and more self-sufficient for foraging during the summer (eat from trash bins, melted ice cream sandwiches people leave on the sidewalk, spilt popcorn in the driveway, community vegetable gardens, etc.). However, when the weather changes, they quickly resort to military-style tactics to feed and entertain themselves. People who leave out pet food, like I do for our ugly calico cat, are their first targets of the changing season. The cooler weather emboldens these beasts to engage in cavalier antics - and the porchstep is their preferred forum.

From what I could hear, there must have been three adults on the roof and two scout coons on my front porch. It sounded like they were jumping in and out of our recycle bin, too. In the morning, the evidence was plain as day: a muddied water bowl (raccoons lack salivary glands and need a water source to eat anything), raccoon pawprints everywhere, and a sparkling clean pet food bowl. Also, they made off with a tuna can lid I'd recently placed in the recycle bin.

Damn Berkeley coons, they think they can intimidate! So wrong they are. I wonder if the tool lending library loans out coon traps?

*coon term originated by author; It is not actual terminology commonly used to describe city-living raccoons.

To the spammers: cease.

2005-09-07T22:56:00.000-07:00

Lately, a clan of pathetic spammers has been leaving comments on my blog entries. The comments usually are something like this:

"Hey, cool blog. Keep it up! By the way, you should try this great new product X! It is amazing! You'll thank me later." (attached link to their site)

Man o' man, I really wish they'd stop. It is really so tiresome. I can't believe they waste their time waiting to get notifications that I have posted something new just so they can log in and leave their worthless plug for whatever thing they are peddling. My operating procedure as of late has been to just erase the comments spammers leave. However, that means the comments button is also turned off for the regular, gold-star readers. In effect, the spammers are shortchanging my readers out of their opportunity to voice their opinions. It's a sad state of affairs!

Can these people get a life and do something CREATIVE?? For example, use an ounce of initiative and get your web site's key terms to register in search engines like Google or Yahoo. Then your potential customers will come to YOU. Make your approach self-sufficient, not predatory. Do something that will actually SELL something! The crazy thing about this whole situation is that hardly ANY people read this blog (maybe 5-10 people?). I have no idea why spammers would spend so much effort trying to market to readers of my site. I guess it comes back to their ability to be effective. Alas, they are quite the opposite of effective.

So all you spammers, please give this blog a break - and do not visit the sites of my friends linked down below, either. They dislike your attention, too.

But good luck out there in the meantime. I hope you are making enough to pay your rent and stuff.

The long haul

2005-09-07T17:23:00.000-07:00

The long haul
Originally uploaded by Ms E.

What you find in Garberville

2005-09-07T17:22:00.000-07:00

What you find in Garberville
Originally uploaded by Ms E.

Tales from the Lost Coast (Sept 2-5, 2005)

2005-09-07T00:01:00.000-07:00

My journey to the Lost Coast in Humbolt County was quite extraordinary. Our group of 17 city planners saw things of immense beauty and magesty. We experienced the cosmos unadulterated by artificial light pollution. We observed wild sea lions. Some, like myself, excelled in the art of bathing creekside. Others decided to just remain smelly. We ate like kings (although we had to because we brought enough food to feed 35). We were lulled to sleep by the soft murmur of the tide's ebb and flow.

There were hard times, too - an inseparable part of the rugged life out there on the beach for three nights. Some of us wrestled with mice that found refuge in our tents. Others constantly nursed blisters and hot spots on their feet. Some suffered from abdominal indigestion and irritation due to the carb-heavy mandatory diet consisting of entirely too much dried fruit and peanut butter. In groups of 3 and 4, we struggled to stay awake during the 24 hour food/bear watch that lasted in two hour shifts beginning at midnight. The 4-6 a.m. shift was voted the least desirable the group concluded.

On the way home, we picked up a hitchhiker. Gwendolyn* was a resident of Shelter Cove and told us that she needed a ride into Garberville to buy things at Ray's Food Place. Although she has a van, the vehicle can't make it up the hill out of Shelter Cove. Therefore, she prefers to hitchhike into Garberville 2-3 times per month. Gwendolyn enlightened our urban-biased group about he perks of small town life and her dislike of the Bush Administration. We also learned she works as a cook at Mario's, which we later guessed was Shelter Cove's local Italian eatery. We dropped her off in front of Ray's at 5:30 p.m., leaving us only with her lingering scent of perspiration and curiousity about how she would ever get back home to Shelter Cove that night. We prefered not to think too hard about that, actually.

On the way back we stopped into In-N-Out in Rohnert Park, joinging the bastions of other Labor Day commuters for one last calorie laden meal before returning to the Bay Area environs.

*name was not changed to protect identity

Labor Day is over song of the day - Tuesday

2005-09-06T15:39:00.000-07:00

Alias, Unseen Sights (sung by Markus Acher of 13+God & The Notwist)

Descending to the Lost Coast (Friday, Sept 2)

2005-09-06T00:09:00.000-07:00

Trail descent2.jpg
Originally uploaded by Ms E.

Ms. E at Big Flat plateau, Lost Coast, CA

2005-09-06T00:05:00.001-07:00

Point.jpg
Originally uploaded by Ms E.

The river people

2005-09-06T00:05:00.000-07:00

Creek crawlin1.jpg
Originally uploaded by Ms E.

Explaining such simplicities

2005-09-02T00:40:00.000-07:00

Today, I've had to give an explication for the contents inside my Nalgene designer imposter water container exactly 4 times. Not to cause a stir, but the contents of the bottle were water (ooooo), ice (ahhhhh!), and sliced apples (huh?). Thinly sliced apples, Fuji.

As the fruit floats around, it imbues the water with an essence like no other. Especially key for a person who has trouble drinking water during the day and probably suffers from dehydration to some extent. I hate plain room temperature water. Makes me gag. This version is kind of like lime mineral water, but this is apple essenced and there are no bubbles. I first tried this beverage of choice last month at International Orange Day Spa, where they offered similar apple-infused water to clients.

I will try pear soon. Plum will also do. Then cucumber. The only problem is that people think I am some snooty fruit-infused water evangelist or something. Today, people crept up to my bottle, stared, raised their eyebrows, and asked me if I dropped part of my lunch in my water bottle.

Damn purists! Haven't they lived in the Bay Area long enough to not be surprised at such antics? Really.

Leaving behind all I know...

2005-09-01T22:58:00.000-07:00

In about 7 hours I will be picked up to go on a three-night, four-day camping backpacking trip to the Lost Coast. As you may or may not have read on previous postings, this trip is a doozy. I actually have it built up in my mind to be something probably much more intense that it really will turn out to be. However, in the scheme of things, I consider that a smart angle. Then, if it does actually turn out to be a breeze, it will be a pleasant surprise worth toasting to.

However, I am a little reticent to leave behind the varied gizmos that make my life so comfortable, networked, and streamlined. My cell phone will not work once we cross over the Kings Mountain range (or worse, before then!). My ipod wont be very useful since the trip is three days long, although I might bring it in order to create some theme music for when I am wandering about alone; after all, it's only a few ounces. My computer isn't coming. Perhaps parts of a reader for class, although paper weighs a lot and I really doubt I will be able to steal away much time to read up on land use controls. Next, forget about running water, toilets, instant-on lighting, and amenities like shelter. Damn, camping is like, well, another damn world. Maybe I should have gone with the Saturday group instead of volunteering to pioneer towards the base camp early Friday. So it goes...

We'll be somewhere in the pinkish-beige

2005-08-31T17:25:00.000-07:00

lost coast map.gif
Originally uploaded by Ms E.

Back to school song of the day - Tuesday

2005-08-30T23:28:00.000-07:00

Cat Power, Moonshiner

Back to school song of the day - Monday

2005-08-29T23:52:00.000-07:00

Joanna Newsom, The Book of Right-On

We shall pioneer

2005-08-28T20:18:00.000-07:00

This Labor Day weekend, I am going to the Lost Coast, a span of untouched coastal wilderness between Mendocino and Humbolt Counties. The group will eventually number 10-12, but I am going with three other people EARLY Friday to set up the first base camp.

I haven't camped since 1997, so I am a little concerned about my ability to pull my weight. This is the real deal - backpacks, boots, mess kits, defecation trowels, water purification devices, GORP, waterproof matches and sockliners. The trip we have in mind for this weekend involves descending 2,500 feet (3.5 miles) onto a rugged beach, where you hike for up to five additional miles on wet sand and rocks to a campsite of choice along the next creekhead.

I don't do well with damp, so I hope my new waterproof Vasque boots deliver on their promise of dryness.

Has anyone else gotten "Lost"?

Off to the wilderness

2005-08-28T20:17:00.000-07:00

Off to the wilderness
Originally uploaded by Ms E.

Songs of the Day - Friday

2005-08-26T13:34:00.000-07:00

Camera Obscura, Books Written for Girls from Underachievers Please Try Harder

Recuperation Song of the Day - Thursday

2005-08-25T13:11:00.000-07:00

Stephen Malkmus, It Kills, from Face the Truth (2005)

ipod wedding cake - a perfect compromise?

2005-08-22T23:15:00.000-07:00

ipod wedding cake - a perfect compromise?
Originally uploaded by Ms E.

It comes in waves they say (engagements)

2005-08-22T22:46:00.000-07:00

The other night, as I was putzing around and pouting about a very recently-cancelled drink date, the phone rang. No, it wasn't my mother calling from the wrecking yard. It was my best friend from high school, A. What a gal. She reads this blog at times, although not a devoted reader I suspect, so of course this description of events will not contain the slew of far-fetched exaggerations that normally find their way into my writing (wink, wink).

So the big news is that she's engaged! Hurrah! I wonder when the wedding will be? It will be nice because I will surely be out of school when it does happen. Therefore, I can be more available to be involved in the wedding affairs. This is one wedding where I promise not to take time-outs for! Also, the good news is that they have a tremendous idea to have a small wedding in Belize. That's what I heard last, anyway. Note to self: renew passport, it expires this January.

This summer I have only been invited to one wedding. For the last several years, I have been invited to about 3 each summer. I always check the box, "Sorry, cannot attend" on the response card. What a stinker I am. The truth is, I can usually attend. It's just that I am poor, and probably shouldn't go for financial reasons. But then I turn around and spend money on an ipod and new laptop. Go figure...

Well, A., the good news is that I just got a new laptop and ipod, I will be getting out of school next year, and will hopefully have an abundance of open time to spend on the wedding details with you. Deal?

Mine is a 4-door sedan...blue-grey

2005-08-22T16:51:00.000-07:00

Mine is a 4-door sedan...blue-grey
Originally uploaded by Ms E.

My mother called from the wrecking yard

2005-08-22T16:28:00.000-07:00

I will begin this entry by making the observation that my mom is awesome. Really. In terms of helping me out, assisting me in life, doing nice things for me, my mother is up there with the saints.

To preface this story, one should know my mom excels in doing projects. She's great at planning things (she plans international travel, weddings, parties, etc.), sewing (I am short, so I always need things hemmed, Halloween costumes), fixing stuff (she completely re-wired my espresso machine a few years ago that I accidentally placed on an electric stovetop burner), etc. Her latest project is one I am quite excited about. Currently, my mother is putting in an A++ effort to fix up the car I had in high school. For the last 8 years, this vehicle, a 1989 Volkswagen Fox, has been in the possession of my older sister, and, most recently, my younger step-brother Brian. Needless to say, the car isn't exactly in the pristine condition I left it so many years ago. Nevertheless, my mother in enthusiastic about fixing it up and driving it down here to the Bay Area for a reunion with its original owner. So far, she's replaced the clutch, several belts, the windshield, and some other smaller bits and pieces that required a visit to the local Portland wrecking yard.

On Saturday, my cell phone rang and it was my mother. She reported to be at wrecking yard casing out defunct Volkswagen Foxes for parts (rear lights, door moulding, door releases, etc). She was very excited - she loves the wrecking yard because it's like a treasure hunt of sorts. Plus, she gets to use tools and rip apart cars as well as talk to roughneck wrecking yard employees. Sounds like fun to me. Anyway, this sounded great and everything, but to be quite honest, I felt a little left out. I felt like I should be at that wrecking yard with her to have this experience, too. After all, I really doubt I will ever go to one myself on my own volition. In this day and age, I would probably find it easier to pay someone to go find that '89 VW Fox door moulding part I need. Or, more likely, just sell the car and get something better.

It's like a dream deferred, I guess. My wrecking yard curiosities will go unresolved for now.

When innocent people deal in used bikes...

2005-08-20T16:12:00.000-07:00

On Wednesday evening, from exactly 6:27 p.m. to 9:52 p.m. I parked my bicycle at Rockridge BART station. It was at this location and during this time interval that my bicycle was looted of its rather decrepid seat piece. It all seems so strange to me; my bike is an absolute piece of crap. I've left it overnight at the same station two nights in a row and never has it been disturbed.

This exact location is regarded by most people to be quite safe, sanitary, and probably one of the nicest BART stations around. It's sandwiched between the 24, which runs parallel along with the tracks and by College Avenue. Here, College Avenue is characterized by a succession of upscale boutiques, expensive restaurants, second hand clothing stores, and many specialty shops devoted to the legions of infants, babies, and toddlers that seem to have overtaken North Oakland and South Berkeley (or Oakley).

The absent seat has meant an inability to commute by bike to my office building in downtown Oakland since Thursday. So today, Saturday, I made it a priority to find a reputable used bike and parts store to procure an adequate and deserving replacement seat. The idea of a "reputable used bike and parts store", however, is kind of an anomoly in Berkeley. Basically, these shops deal in stolen bikes and accessories. They prefer to charge prices for used stuff that nearly approaches retail, too. It's quite an operation they have going! In fact, I wouldn't be at all surprised if I found my seat at one of the several shops like this in town.

I decided on Re-cycles bike shop, down on Sacramento and Prince, in Southwest Berkeley. The two guys at the shop were nice, but to be quite honest, they were a little slow. While I was there looking for seats I decided to get some other work done on my bike that was way overdue. It took the guy about 4 minutes to use a calculator to add up a quote for the following itemized parts and services from his scribbled receipt:

1. used tire, $8
2. used seat, $10
3. adjust brakes and put on tire, $15

I kept looking at the same piece of paper, and thinking, "$33. $33. $10 plus $15 is $25, plus $8 is $33!" But still, he kept keying the numbers it into the calculator...ever so deliberately. He did it twice, just to make sure of his totals. Then he had to figure out the tax. This went on for another minute or two.

I left the shop for about 45 minutes and went to Walgreen's while he worked on the bike. I returned to find that he had put a mountain bike tire on my front wheel. The other tire, which I didn't replace, is a medium sized road tire. It all looked very disheveled and I immediately protested. Of course, they found a better tire hanging up overhead.

Lesson 1: don't be afraid to argue if a second-rate greasemonkey puts a completely inappropriate tire on the front of your bike. It's a game, and you have to play with them. If you don't play, you'll end up riding around on a bike that people make fun of.

While they replaced the second tire, some novice came in the shop to buy a bike. He said his budget was $20-$80. Of course, they showed him a bike that is marked $130. This guy really had no idea about bikes; he even admitted that in the shop: apparently some East Coast private school transplant or something. He did know something - he would stick to his budget. He got the guy down to $75, which I admired. I really think he should have kept to himself the comment about not knowing a thing about bikes. In Berkeley, people will write you off for that in about two seconds.

Friday's song

2005-08-19T09:40:00.000-07:00

Elliott Smith, Pretty (Ugly Before)

To plan for - live music in the city

2005-08-18T08:48:00.000-07:00

Lovemakers, GAMH, August 25
Medeski Martin & Wood, Saratoga Garden Theatre Villa, August 25
Hot Buttered Rum String Band, Mystic Theater, Petaluma, August 26
The Samples, Cafe du Nord, August 26/27
Son Volt, Fillmore, Sept 9
Decemberists, Fillmore, Sept 11/12
Blackalicious, Independent, Sept 26
New Pornographers, Bimbo's, Sept 27/28
The Notwist, GAMH, Sept 30
Frames and Josh Ritter, Fillmore, October 1
Deerhoof, GAMH, October 15
Architecture in Helinski, Slim's, October 18
My Morning Jacket, Fillmore, Nov 11/12

So, anyone hear of anything else you think I'd like?

Wednesday's song

2005-08-17T10:52:00.000-07:00

Josh Ritter, Last Ditch Effort

Out of whack, out of time

2005-08-17T09:00:00.000-07:00

This week I have been so stressy. It's so uncomfortable. I realize it has much to do with the fact that I will be going back to school in about 10 days. This year will be incredibly busy, and I am just not psyched to get so busy so fast. In fact, I kind of wish things could slow down even more.

I didn't accomplish something I needed to get done this summer, which was to line up my client for the professional report required for graduation. I am working for a good potential client right now, but internal politics and recent happenings at the office here kind of leave me unsure they'd be able to define a problem and help me design a report format in the way I'd want them to. They are just incredibly busy, catching up on stuff from 3 months ago, and trying to plan for their national conference in early November.

Moreover, about half of my friends from school ARE really excited for school to begin again. So I am confronted with the fact that they've obviously been preparing for school in ways I haven't been, which is kind of discouraging.

Then, having met some great people this summer, I am realizing I won't be as available to nurture those friendships or relationships during the academic year in the ways I'd like to.

One more thing: we have a new roommate, which sort of adds a small level of discomfort, only because I don't know what to expect. But for the last few days it has been fine. J. leaves for his construction job at 5:30 am everyday, so his only evidence of being in the house in the morning are the enormous wet footprints he leaves on the bath mat.

Talk about pre-school jitters, eh?

Ms. E's weekly music picks

2005-08-14T23:07:00.000-07:00

This week there are some pretty good shows to sample!

Tuesday: Pirate Radio and This Union Standard playing at Hotel Utah. I know people in both of these bands, although I don't know them all too well. I work with the guitarist of the former. I spent last Thanksgiving with members of the latter. I just saw Pirate Radio two weeks ago and they had a soulful slide guitarist who played a few numbers.

Wednesday: anyone?

Thursday: Erin McKeown at the Independent

Friday: Liz Phair at the Swedish American Hall

Saturday: Loquat and Citizens Here & Abroad playing at the Great American Music Hall

Ms. E's Mission pick

2005-08-13T19:52:00.000-07:00

Although it was only my second time there, last Wednesday evening I visited what I'd say is my favorite watering hole in the Mission. At 22nd and Valencia there is a nice establishment called the Latin American Club. It possesses several interesting things that amuse and entertain me. First, the entrance is a dutch door. In all of my experiences, dutch doors make for good bar scenes. It's something about the open-for-business feel they give off. Next, the LAC has a fake dorado fish hanging above the bar. The one notable fish I ever caught in my life was a dorado. I caught it off the coast of Loreto in the Sea of Cortez in 1990, though it was only about a 20 inch juvenile. So the mounted fish over the bar just feels comfortably hokey. Next, there is a nice, small stage in the back of the bar where one large table is perched. It looks like a fun place to sit - you have a good view of the nice ambience of the place and its handsome patrons . The place has great lighting, too. Just dark enough.

The one downer about the LAC is that the service at the bar is kind of pathetic. There are plenty of bartenders, it's just that they appear to be enjoying themselves just as much as the patrons - there's a lot of drinking, flirting, and carrying on that goes on behind the spacious bar space. No harm done, however. I was happily distracted with the company I was with so my empty glass presented a nice opportunity to sample what my date was drinking. So in that way, I cannot really criticize the lack of service too much.

I've not been to the LAC with more than one person, but it looks like a great place to come with a small group of friends. Especially if you can score the stage table.

Getting change is hard to remember

2005-08-10T11:41:00.000-07:00

I rarely ride the MUNI lines in San Francisco. If I do, it's because I am usually meeting someone in the city for drinks, dinner, what have you. Whenever I do take MUNI (about once a month lately) I inevitably forget about the coin system. MUNI only takes 5 quarters. But rarely do I have five - sometimes I have two or three - but rarely five. You can't get change from the booth. Rather, you get change out of one of the BART ticket machines (and you can't get coins from the machines marked "Change" either - those only work in bills).

Yesterday evening, two people gave me detailed directions about how to get change without me having to even ask or make eye contact with them. They just see me idling around the MUNI turnstiles with my paper dollar and one quarter and figure they should help out. Usually the help comes from men who want to show me how to push the "H" button on the BART ticket machine to get four quarters.

Is that weird? My memory for operational stuff like this is always so bad lately. I have to get help everytime. Maybe next time I'll think ahead and remember the "H" button.

Intern plight continues - dirty gym clothes

2005-08-09T10:08:00.000-07:00

I think this morning marks an all time low in my interning morale. Today, a fellow intern (who's younger and an undergrad) asked me if I could take a bag of dirty gym clothes home to Berkeley and deliver it to former intern (Betsy) who left them here at the office by mistake. Betsy finished her tenure at this organization last week. However, it appears as though she left a legacy of sullied lycra and putrid gym socks for us to reconcile. And the bag isn't small. There are at least two changes of clothes involved.

In summary, the clothing will get priority delivery service in my bicycle basket during this afternoon's 3.5 mile commute north from Oakland to South Berkeley. All without wincing or vocalized complaining.

I like Betsy anyway. She will be Robert Reich's assistant/GSR when he starts his professorship at The Goldman School of Public Policy. You do favors like deliver dirty gym clothes to people with access to the influential. It goes without saying. Karma will reward this deed, I declare.

E-mail snooping (intern's duty)

2005-08-08T14:31:00.000-07:00

Today my supervisor told me that I needed to get login and password information from our IT person in order to hack into one of our co-worker's email accounts. This person is on vacation and we need to find a contact name somewhere in Outlook that she forgot to write down for us. So basically, I have been given the order to snoop, and snoop diligently.

Such is a proper assignment to be handed off to an intern. I took on the challenge without any reservations; it's a nice change to what I have been doing lately, such as making phone calls. However, after 3 hours of combing through her mess of an inbox (whose isn't a mess, though?), I have yielded absolutely nothing relating to this item of inquiry. I have, however, learned some interesting things going on in the office.

Now I let the reader know I approached this assignment with the utmost care and consideration: I resolved I would not open personal emails unless I really, really, really thought what I was looking for might be in there. I have absolutely no interest in doing such a thing, anyway. And I lived up to that promise. However, a lot of the time, you can make a pretty close guess about what an email might be about from the subject or RE: line. At least you have enough information to let your mind wander. So consider my position: I have to carefully read, weigh, and consider these subject lines in order to make a judgment call to investigate further. It's part of the job, afterall.

Examples of highlights I found, but dared not open:

RE: I am worried about Noami, too --> (hint, she's another intern here, readers)
RE: educational coordinator position in SF - your application has been received!
RE: Naughty Survey, part II
RE: the things I get myself into...

As a rule, people, do not mingle work with personal email. You never know what intern will be assigned to snoop through it when you are on vacation.

Respectful, professional, always collected

2005-08-08T10:58:00.000-07:00

Respectful, professional, always collected
Originally uploaded by Ms E.

Peter Jennings has past

2005-08-08T10:50:00.000-07:00

The loss of Peter Jennings last night is really making this week a glum one despite all the things and people that make it an amazing one.

2005-08-06T10:08:00.000-07:00

Ronnie's federal office building (cornerstone laid by Clinton of all people)

2005-08-06T10:04:00.000-07:00

Ronnie trumps Madison

Ronnie looms

2005-08-05T10:20:00.000-07:00

Originally uploaded by Ms E.

The Gipper's lackey

2005-08-05T09:36:00.000-07:00

This morning, NPR reported yet another worn-out attempt by one individual in Congress to "honor" former president Ronald Reagan by renaming things in Washington, DC after him.

Enough. Enough I say. Stop the madness.

Reagan has an airport! He has his name on the largest federal office complex in the world! He has his presidential library! He has a commonly-quoted term in economics named after him! He has a nice corner at the Hilton on Florida Ave. NW where he was shot. Not to mention the U.S.S. Ronald Reagan aircraft carrier. He probably has a hell of a lot of other things in this world that I don't care about. The street they are proposing to rename Ronald Reagan Boulevard is 16th Street. This street runs North-South through the very center of DC. You know how DC is kind of diamond-shaped? 16th Street is the road that bisects that diamond. Also, 16th Street is what makes the White House have the address 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, NW (it's located at the intersection of 16th Street and Pennsylvania Avenue). Listen to the NPR story and you'll understand why changing the name of this street to RR Blvd. is a ludicrous idea and also disrespectful to the local people of Washington who should get to determine what their neighborhood streets are called.

Having worked for 4 years in an enormous building called "The Ronald Reagan Building and International Trade Center", I feel I am qualified to rant a tad. Everyday I experienced Reagan. Everyday, people. You should have seen the place when he died last year - I haven't seen so many Reaganites moping around since the Iran-Contra hearings.

Despite my sourpuss attitude, I decided to sidestep my principles momentarilly to go down in history that fateful week: I signed one of the goodbye books that are kept at his library. I wrote something like, "I was a kid when you were voted in, so I grew up with you, and it's been an experience. Ms. E."

The above tirade does not mean I have no respect for the guy. He was a president we needed in the day and age of the time. Good and evil, remember? But I just don't want to see the great city L'Enfant planned be torn to shreds more than it already is by some lackey politico from Texas. I don't think Nancy would approve, either.

Rant over. Here's to the weekend. A Reagan-free one, at that!

Thursday's happy song

2005-08-04T12:36:00.000-07:00

Drink To Me, Babe, Then, A.C. Newman

2005-08-02T18:14:00.000-07:00

Meet Shorty and his tongue.

How's my breath?

2005-08-01T21:42:00.000-07:00

How's my breath?
Originally uploaded by Ms E.

Indie record label snob

2005-08-01T21:29:00.000-07:00

Minty Fresh, a small record label out of Chicago, has the whole Husky Rescue debut album on their website available for your listening pleasure. Ta-da!

There's also a handful of other artists you can listen to. My friend Mei-Ling told me about Minty Fresh many months back...thanks M-L!

This week's live music outings

2005-08-01T14:16:00.000-07:00

Sunday, July 31: Went to see my a band that a friend of mine went to school with at Middlebury College. They were called Hijack the Disco and they played at Cafe Du Nord yesterday at 8pm. Good set. Kind of loud, but good set.

Wednesday, August 3: Tegan & Sara playing at the Great American Music Hall. Tegan and Sara recently were featured at Lollapalooza in Chicago at Grant Park on July 23/24.

Thursday, August 4: Pirate Radio, Last of the Blacksmiths, and the Welcome Matt playing at Bottom of the Hill in San Francisco. One of Pirate Radio's band members, Brentt Brown, actually works in my office here in Oakland. He even offered to buy people from the office Irish coffees if they showed up. What a swell person. I just heard Last of the Blacksmiths are pretty good, too, according to my roommate C.

Friday, August 5: ?

Saturday, August 6: ditto

So it's August, month of Leos

2005-08-01T12:26:00.000-07:00

Today is August 1st. Two weeks ago, at a bar, I had a conversation about how terrible it would be when August arrived. With the beginning of our eighth calendar month comes the begining of the end of summer. Ah, glorious summer: period of whimsy, getting actual sleep, overseas adventures, weeknights out, lazy strolls, 7.5 hour work days, spontaneity, leisurely afternoons on the beach, etc.

Well, the good news is it's not so terrible right now. The bad news, well, the bad news is that my days of freedom are very much numbered.

And also coming up is my 28th birthday. Hello late twenties!!! I am stoked...I just found out our office doesn't celebrate birthdays. For the last 8 years, I have never had office sheetcake for my birthday. For that I am immensely grateful. I always managed to be out of town or hiding in some way or another. I would argue that all office birthday parties should be banned (as well as oversize baby strollers, though quite unrelatedly). People should strive to spend their birthdays doing tremendous, uplifting things or going to fabulous domestic and overseas destinations such as Rio de Janeiro, Istanbul, Montreal, or Portland, OR.

Follow my lead and you will find happiness in aging.

I have friends down here or something

2005-07-29T10:01:00.000-07:00

I am not alone over here in Officelandia. Apparently, a colleague from DCRP works down yonder about 8 blocks south of here. Today I will venture to a new part of downtown Oakland to meet Brendan for lunch...where there are actual stores, plentiful restaurants, and flocks of people walking around.

Dreary-office-life-song-of-the-day, Thursday

2005-07-28T13:30:00.000-07:00

Deerhoof, L'Amour Stories

Don't doze off quite yet...

2005-07-26T22:55:00.000-07:00

In a brief conversation the other day about writing on this medium, it was determined that sometimes online journal writing can provide a positive, creative, accessible outlet. At other times, it can simply spell out to you and your small, modest reading audience how trite, cynical, or tiresome your life is. I'm sitting on the fencepost right now but I am feeling the latter pulling me to one side.

Most recently I talked about the following:
1. Oakland
2. dune buggies
3. ticket fee schemes
4. company picnics

Good God.

I am very concerned - not only at the apparent mediocrity in topics addressed here, but also concerned for the trajectory of this journal and what ill effect it has on people's perception of my idea of publishable reading content.

Some suggestions thrown out by friends were to begin writing about sex (ding, ding!). Basically, I could strive to be Carrie Bradshaw or that annoying lady in Elle magazine, E. Jean Carroll ("Tormented? Driven witless? Whipsawed by confusion? - ugh...). But that gets tiresome in my book, and it's been done a million times over. Plus, the people who really know me would suspect abuse of creative license. Despite the fact I could probably write some entertaining pieces on this topic, at the end of the day I don't really want my personal life (or my supposed personal life) being consumed by my peers like cheap, over-salted snack foods in front of their laptop screens.

Another suggestion I thought might work is to start doing more mainstream stuff - commenting more on political maneuverings, the latest Washington, DC scandal, stuff that has a national appeal. But I don't want to get into that business more so than I do so already. I think my seven years working in Washington has given me my fill, so to say, and presently I have no great appetite to suddenly begin political blogging - unless it's an especially salient topic or scandal I cannot resist to address (like David Souter getting beat up while jogging).

I'll leave my doldrums here. It just might get better. But who knows.

Evading the fee monster

2005-07-26T15:01:00.000-07:00

Do most people who buy tickets for shows at the Fillmore get them at the box office? The ticket service providers (BGP and Ticketmaster) on their page charge a hefty chunk of change. Almost $8 a ticket in fees. Aaaaa.

I guess it's a nice night, so I will run an errand into the city for said purpose.

Oakland's sister city

2005-07-25T18:12:00.000-07:00

Oakland's sister city
Originally uploaded by Ms E.

It's like a sunnier Rosslyn, VA

2005-07-25T16:11:00.000-07:00

Someone asked me the other day what it's like working in downtown Oakland. Because I lived in Washington, DC for many of my formative 20s, I use that place as a general frame of reference for questions of a comparative nature. I answered, "It could be Rosslyn, for all I know."

Rosslyn, for all you capital-phobes out there, is a "city" (more like an office park settlement with a Wendy's) across the Potomac River from Washington, DC. There's a Metro stop there, some big hotel and office buildings circa 1978, vehicle access points for the GW Parkway, but pretty much nothing else of interest can be found in Rosslyn, Virginia. (The Peace Corps used to have their administrative offices there, but I think they even moved) You can go a little further west to Clarendon and it only gets a TAD better because there are more restaurants. The problem with Rosslyn, as is the problem with Oakland, is that the place is a ghost town at any point in the day. There's nothing going on. There's hardly any stores. On the main drag, Broadway, there's hardly any cars! I'm looking down on the street right now, nearing rush hour, and I see exactly 6 cars down there. It's so quiet I can hear people whistling a tune on the street eight floors below me.

Word has it that the 12th street area of Oakland might be a little more chipper, so I will be more precise in the geography I am criticizing. I work at Broadway and 22nd Streets. Across the street to the north is a construction pit. To the south is a small parking garage. To the east is a commercial strip that has about 40% vacancy. To the west is another ground level parking lot. There are some hopeful spots: down Broadway is the Paramount theater, which looks cool, but they only have one booking every three weeks or so. There is a cool rooftop garden at the Kaiser Center. Also, Luka's Lounge is on our block, but I haven't been there because the last thing I want to do after working all day here in Oakland is to hang out here longer.

Oakland needs some revamping, that's for sure. Why does it suffer so? Does anyone know any gems of this part of Oakland? Also, does anyone know if the One Mile High club is still operating?

All these questions, it's almost as if I don't live here.

Gunshots in the Tenderloin - we still had drinks

2005-07-23T12:52:00.000-07:00

So last night, around 9:30 PM, C. and I roll into the city. Our plans were to hit the Olive Bar on Larkin, perhaps have two rounds of drinks and a snack or two. Then we'd take a cab to Cafe du Nord where we would see the Lovemakers show. In general, a good roommate bonding plan.

The night started out with us on top. We found a great parking spot on Eddy and Larkin, which is only 2 blocks from the bar. Now on foot, we turned onto Larkin. In a matter of seconds, we heard some racket behind us, like firecrackers maybe. Then we noticed that the local contingent of homeless folks was hauling ass out of the way and people were running in the street down where the noises seemed to be coming from. Could it be? Could someone REALLY be firing a gun down there? At least 10 shots went off from what I could recall.

Despite the growing sense of chaos on Larkin, I remained cynical that our personal safety, and the general public safety, was being threatened. I explain my position by pointing to a profound sense of urban malaise within the Tenderloin - there's not much I can do about what is going on down there, therefore, I won't get all carried away and start dodging bullets unless they actually graze my pant legs. Yes, I do realize that sounds terrible coming from a person in city planning.

Don't get me wrong, I do know that there are CBOs and other parties working to make the Tenderloin a better place for all. But for now, the place is kind of a mess. However, seeing that I am hanging out there on a Friday night, I admit I must be attracted to that mess for some reason or another.

I recommend the Olive Bar. The bar staff is attentive. Prices are heading out of my range, but I have no qualms about paying $8 for a decent glass of wine. There is a meathead muscle guy that shakes the martinis there; he has enormous biceps. He didn't look to be incredibly sharp, but he has the martini shaking down pretty good and appears to be proud of his skills.

The Lovemakers show left me happy I made it into the city tonight. Sadly, the opening band was kind of terrible (they were called BoyJazz...go figure). As for the Lovemakers, they are playing again next Friday at the same venue and I recommend it, but only go for the opener if you're familiar.

Company picnic - attendance mandatory

2005-07-20T23:29:00.000-07:00

Here at the office this week everyone is gearing up for the big company picnic to be held at Lake Chabot on Friday afternoon. But I guess it's not really a "company" picnic. It is, in fact, an organizational recreation event. In the nonprofit world, I have a feeling you'd get raised eyebrows by making the suggestion that we work for a "company".

Anyway, today there was a picnic committee meeting, the distribution of food and bev checklists, and recommendations for carpool schedules going around all day. I kept getting interrupted from doing my very important work (cough, cough).

With the picnic comes responsibility. I signed up for condiments. A visit this evening to the Berkeley Bowl ensures a proper dose of ketchup, BBQ sauce, mustard, and mayo will be present at the event. I wonder if these people will balk at the full fat mayo I bought? Damn healthwise nonprofiteers.

So the picnic is mandatory. I guess it should be, considering it begins at 12pm on Friday in a somewhat nearby park. I wonder if there will also be mandatory activities, like volleyball or frisbee challenges. That could be good and bad. I like picnics, but I get a little anxious when I feel like there are expectations extending beyond eating and socializing. Perhaps I will volunteer to man the grill - that would probably make me exempt from having to play capture the flag. Plus, as the resident grillmaster you have the opportunity to wow people with your coal-related cooking talents.

I didn't see any alcoholic beverages on the food checklists, though. What's up with that? A BBQ near a lake is the perfect place to enjoy a nice beer, in my book.

What is beatbox?

2005-07-20T09:06:00.000-07:00

I am excited about tomorrow night - I am going to a beatbox event. I haven't seen this kind of performance before. I hope it won't disappoint. I am going to see this performer called Kid Beyond. He's mentioned in the beatbox link right above there.

By the way, I love Wikipedia for things like this.

Report from the 8th floor: Light traffic on Broadway below- slight breeze at 5 mph - partly sunny conditions, 72 degrees. Noticeable customer activity outside Green Medicine, which is kattycorner to my building.

Curry problems and Monday night bar fun

2005-07-19T00:00:00.000-07:00

This will be a kind of random entry.

The first topic is the yellow curry I made tonight, which is now (the entire gallon of it) resting peacefully in my trash can. It was one of those cooking experiments gone awry. Despite having all the right ingredients in the appropriate quantities, something was indeed "off". And when I say "off" I mean that something wasn't so fresh with regard to the component of meat that pulls the dish together. I thought it was ok during the prep stages, but upon actually cooking it, and later tasting it, I realized its future belonged with my curbside recyclables.

Ugh. We actually had to leave the entire pot of questionable curry on our porch for 4 hours to cool before we could throw it out. I am amazed the racoons didn't get to it before we could pour it into three layers of plastic bags to be thrown away.

Next topic: The Monday night bar scene.

Why don't the beautiful people of Berkeley go out to the bars on Monday nights? Wait, I'll restate that, why don't the general masses of people in Berkeley go out to bars on Monday nights? My roommate and I were the only people out there. We hit two very run of the mill places, Club Mallard and the Albatross, and there was hardly 10 people at each establishment! Despite the lack of qualified patrons, we had a decent night out. C's been away for a few days in Michigan, so we spent the evening catching up and telling one another our personal tribulations and triumphs. A fine Monday, indeed.

But work awaits tomorrow. I better head to bed.

2005-07-17T22:41:00.000-07:00

Go speedracer go.

Mini dune buggies

2005-07-17T22:20:00.000-07:00

This is another report on the famed Berkeley Marina district. It being such a nice summer day, I went down there to run over the foot bridge that goes over 580 and around the marina.

At the western edge of the foot bridge there is a large construction site that has been there for some time. Earlier this year it was just cleared land, with clumpy grass and a lot of rocks. Slowly over the past many months, dump trucks have brought immense quantities of dirt to this site. Now there is a slope about 10 feet high, made of packed dirt covering an area at least several acres in size. What is going to happen here? Who knows. But that's not the point right now.

At this moment, the site is being used by a consortium of avid, competitive mini dune buggy operators. What I am referring to is the kind of remote control vehicles that make high-pitched noises and kick up smothering dust clouds as they accelerate. From my numbered observations down on the Marina, the cars are operated by young adult males who apparently have little else to do on a picturesque summer Sunday afternoon. They converge at the site to practice their dune buggy maneuvering skills or something. I was running by, so I didn't pick up on the fine details of it all.

I wonder when the construction project will progress enough to make it difficult for the dune buggy guys to play in the dirt? That will be a sad day for these guys. They looked like they were having a lot of fun, whooping it up and setting up ramps. But there are always more piles of dirt to be had, I suppose.

Finally reading that (those) book(s) I always meant to...

2005-07-16T23:20:00.000-07:00

I just arrived home earlier than I would have expected from the Clue party I went to. I figured I'd plug in for a second to check up on some administrative details, but now I find myself making a late night entry. As to the party, for all of you who want to know the details, Mr. Green committed the murder tonight. However, the game was kind of botched to some extent. People were showing each other their cards, forming Clue alliances, all the stuff you could think could happen at such a party. However, much to my chagrin, no one made out with any dead bodies in order to create a distraction.

Costumes to note were the lovely, proper Mrs. Peacock (Karen) and myself, of course, as Mrs. White (the flames!). The men all kind of showed up in suits of one sort or the other. I couldn't really tell who was who except for Tom. Tom arrived outfitted in a fabulous velvet plum blazer. Tom - nice call - many women love velvet by the way.

Ok, so on to the real topic of this entry. Quite appropriately, for an entry at 11:00pm on a Saturday evening, the topic is reading.

I actually have some time this summer to dabble in the world of fiction. I am ecstatic. Last night I decided upon which book I will read, Nabokov's Lolita. Truth be told, I only have seen the movie, and not even the original. I saw the version with Jeremy Irons that came out on Showtime back in 1998 or something.

So while tonight millions of munchkins are devouring their Hogwarts editions and reading about a certain gifted wizard in training, I will settle down to H. H. and his caustic affection for a certain nymphet called Lo. Sounds good to me.

Not to be judgmental...

2005-07-15T09:56:00.000-07:00

This moning my heart almost stopped while listening to KQED. Linda Gradstein (sp?) was introducing the next story - it was about Supreme Court retirements - and I heard the words, "Rehnquist issued his statement early this morning...(really long stressful pause) and he does not have immediate plans to retire..."

Phew.

Not that I love the guy but having him step down right now would be sort of a mess. I guess he needed to issue the statement because reporters have been stalking him in DC and near his house over the last couple weeks ever since Sandy threw in her towel.

I'd be pretty annoyed if the paparazzi was setting up camp outside of my house while I was finishing the spring session while simultaneously being treated for thyroid cancer. As a side issue, SC Justice don't necessarilly have armed or secret service personnel assigned to their detail. In fact, about two years ago, David Souter got mugged on Capitol Hill one morning or evening while he was out on a jog. The thief that mugged him had no idea who he was. I guess he kind of roughed up Souter, too, with some punches and pushing.

Also, this is off topic, but I guess Souter still drives around an '84 VW Rabbit. Yes, probably evidence that we don't pay these people enough money. But maybe he's just a mousy eccentric...

Haircut n' more

2005-07-14T16:51:00.000-07:00

Attention: I now I have hair that is three colors, thanks to Christine at Barbarella (she has hair that is at least 10 colors). I'm poorer for it, but two colors richer than before. Not a bad swap.

Blech

2005-07-14T11:47:00.000-07:00

Um, no disrespect to my roommate, but anchovy paste filled olives are kind of gross.

So we met our potential...

2005-07-14T00:06:00.000-07:00

Since Monday evening C. and I have been charged with the task of interviewing potential replacement roommates. First there was Matthew, then Rob, then Geoff, followed by Jeff. I think there was also a Travis from Louisville last night. Also, there were a couple people that cancelled on us. All were nice people, polite people, but kind sedate all the while.

Last night we offered Geoff the place, but he decided to go with a single closer to campus (bad choice Geoff....incredibly bad choice!). So we were kind of at a loss this afternoon. And since C. was leaving for Ann Arbor this evening through the weekend, it appeared not much would happen in terms of solidifying the rather uncertain status of our search until she returned next week.

Then I checked my email for the 23rd time of the day. And there was Jonathan.

Jonathan got over here in less than 20 minutes after we called him. He happened to be visiting a house in our neighborhood and it was not any trouble to stop by. The first thing that I liked about him was that he accepted the glass of wine I offered him. The same offer had been made to all the other people - but none of them partook of my generosity. No one even wanted water. What's that say for trust??

Jon is also the first measurably gregarious candidate out of the whole bunch. He had me laughing with his stories about being a farm boy in Missouri. He owns a 1976 Bronco with a removable top. He went to culinary school, but now he's going into construction apprentice school starting in September. He plays topless volleyball in the park while drinking non-microbrew beer. And he has a three-legged dog.

Ah, he's so UN-Berkeley (okay, the dog is kind of Berkeley). We are tickled pink by the fresh approach to life Jonathan presents us. Tomorrow I have the job of calling Jon to welcome him to Bateman Street. Fingers crossed.

2005-07-12T21:20:00.000-07:00

Mrs. White, in the library, with the lead pipe...

Clue party

2005-07-12T21:09:00.000-07:00

This Saturday night I am going to the second party in two weekends hosted by my friend and planning colleague Eliza. Last weekend was more of a traditional dinner party for about 10 people. This weekend's party is a themed around the Clue movie, boardgame, and characters to create a fun evening of murderous antics.

I am going as Mrs. White by demand. Actually, people over the years have told me I look like her. I need a blousy black tube top to complete the outfit. Where does one procure such an item? I have the knee length skirt, pearl choker, and heels covered.

I am intrigued who will show up as Yvette and Wadsworth. I had a thing for Wadsworth in the 3rd grade. What clue character would you go as???

Report from Broadway, 8th floor

2005-07-11T15:07:00.000-07:00

Today is the first day of my internship with a nonprofit organization in downtown Oakland that does workforce development and sector specific job training initiatives. Needless to say, this first day has been filled with the obligatory elements of joining a new office. First we did the rounds where we met all the critical characters in the office. Then we got our email up. Next, we went to lunch. After lunch, we had an organizational policy briefing session. The last item on today's agenda is a meeting with the HR person to do our paperwork for pay and stuff like that. Apparently tomorrow there is some type of intern happy hour. All the interns here seem like cool people - about 6 of us in all.

Ah, the working life.

But my office is hardly a cubicle. Although I am only going to be here about 3 weeks, roughly half the length of this internship appointment, I am certain I will have hard time saying goodbye to this office. I have two huge windows overlooking downtown Oakland (looking south from 22nd Street). I can even see Lake Merritt, the Port of Oakland and the radio tower at Twin Peaks. One annoying thing that I know will never cease to irritate: 8 floors below me is a crosswalk equipped with one of those bird whistle notifications for blind or sight impaired people. I can hear it going off every 45 seconds. And this is with the windows closed.

This job so far is feeling like a good fit. It only takes me 20 minutes to get here by bus and I can bicycle if I fancy it. Interesting policy focus. Nice, funny colleagues. Nice view. And decent hours.

Lazy Sunday song of the week

2005-07-10T21:56:00.000-07:00

Built to Spill, Else

The shackles....have been released

2005-07-09T10:09:00.000-07:00

Ah, this morning I awoke to a melodious combination of interesting noises: shuffling feet, squeaks from furniture being uprooted, a humming truck outside, and the front door swinging open and shut. Usually, those noises on a Saturday morning would cause me great angst, followed by under the breath expletives, and hopes for quiet to resume. But not today. Not today.

Todd is moving out.

Friday's quitting time songs

2005-07-08T13:30:00.000-07:00

Blackalicious, If I May
Stars, The Vanishing

I cut the buh-jesus out of my finger

2005-07-08T10:32:00.000-07:00

Lesson of the night: When you get home after a few drinks, and want a snack before hitting the hay that happens to be wrapped in shrink wrap (like cheese), do not use a serrated, ever-sharp blade to puncture it.

You will likely slice into more than just the cheese you are clumsilly holding in the palm of your hand. Moreover, bleeding on your cheese is kind of a downer, too.

2005-07-06T22:36:00.000-07:00

Here I will lounge

I'm the proud new owner...

2005-07-06T22:30:00.000-07:00

...of a used couch and loveseat set I bought last night from a lady in Temescal. It was sort of impulsive to buy without shopping around, but in the end I think it will be a wise purchase. Our roommate Todd is moving out and he is taking both of his interesting couches he has here, so replacement furniture is required. I got both of these for $400.

I didn't inspect them cushion by cushion or anything, so I hope I don't find anything glaringly wrong with them when they get to Bateman Street. My attention to detail sometimes withers when it comes to purchasing things like used couches.

Waiting for my honeybunch to walk in the front door

2005-07-05T23:23:00.000-07:00

Ok, I admit it. I am giddy.

My roommate who's been in Kenya for the last six weeks is getting home tomorrow. Since I got home from work today ("work" is school, I sit around looking at this enormous spreadsheet model we have for our Thailand project) I have been busting my ass getting the house in order for her homecoming.

I labored in the backyard for about three hours this afternoon. Strange discovery: Our backyard has some basic infrastructure for a watering system - there's some black hoses pegged around the perimeter of the yard with some baby feeder tubes spiking off of it. Strange, considering the yard is basically an oversize petrie dish for weeds, bugs, and encroaching vines. What would you possibly want to water out there? I digress...

Then I went to the grocery store to get her favorite foods and a whole lot of fruits and vegetables. Apparently, a cholera outbreak during week 2 of her stay in Kenya made it very dangerous to eat anything that grows in the ground. So she's been living off starch and fried remnant meat for the last month.

I made a fruit salad. I am marinating chicken. I am chilling wine. Next step is to clean the bathroom and make sure her entry back into western civilization is as smooth and wrinkle free as her laundry I just tossed in the dryer (jk).

No, we aren't a couple. Just good friends I tell you. But I don't think I every cleaned up or made merry so much for any of my old boyfriends.

Back to the U.S. song of the week - Saturday

2005-07-02T22:16:00.000-07:00

The Lucksmiths, There is a Boy that Never Goes Out

Another secret from the closet of Grandpa Joe

2005-07-02T12:42:00.000-07:00

I just got off of the phone with my sister who just told me a very interesting story she heard from our second cousin, Rick Karash. Rick is one of those family members we bump into every so often. He's a kind of stiff Bostonian type, not much in common with us countrified Oregonians. But still he's a real nice guy who graces us with his presence once in a blue moon when he's in town on business.

Rick and my sister were having dinner about a week ago in D.C. at a very nice French place - one of my favorites, actually. Over a bottle of wine, Rick began to talk about the ol' Karash lineage. The Karash family originated in Utica, NY - apparently a very popular place for Russian immigrants to settle down after many long weeks on the boat over from the mother country. For those of you who don't know, I have a Russian background. And no, I don't eat or make borscht. Neither do I speak Russian, but my sister studied it in college and my brother studied it at the Naval Language Institute in Monterrey, CA. As for myself, sometimes I drink my tea with lemon, but that's about as "typically" Russian I get. I digress...

Ok, so the basis of this story is that my Grandpa Joe may be an illegitimate child. I will not use the "b" word - because I have some small measurable respect for the guy. As to Joe's origins, it is scientifically undetermined and will remain so, but it is known that his sister was a verified b-child. Thus the story of my grandpa's tenuous entry into this world:

My great grand mother, Teresa, worked in a candy factory as a single, young woman in Utica, NY. The operation was owned by who I will from now on refer to as "an evil Russian candy factory owner." This evil factory owner employed many young Russian immigrants, mainly women, to toil in his sweatshop. Not quite Willy Wonka, this man apparently made it an unspoken policy that he could have his way with those he employed. Simply put, there wasn't anyone to complain to back in the day. I guess people were just happy to have a paycheck, even if it required you to strip with the boss.

So long story short, Teresa gets pregnant and the town sort of goes haywire. The town elders or someone in charge demanded that a man step forward to accept responsibility. Now people knew about the factory owner and his "policies", so it was kind of a charade/song-and-dance at this point, but someone needed to help Teresa out and this may have been the only way to get business taken care of. Amidst all the chaos, a man named John Karash stepped forward and said he was responsible for the situation. (At this point, my sister said Rick Karash shed a poignant tear over his apple galette)

So John and Teresa get married and a daughter, Stacia, was born in, say, 1908 or something. Later a son, Walt, was born. Then another son was born in 1911, Joseph, my grandpa.

Rick then discussed the marriage of John and Teresa. Seeing that it was a very compromised union from the get-go, it is not hard to understand that the marriage was potentially abusive and disasterous. Rick mentioned that the children born after Stacia could have very well been offspring of the same wicked candy factory owner - because Teresa continued to work there after Utica found out her little secret. Apparently, Joe has verbalized his doubt about his father as well, although I don't know the details about that. Heresay at this point.

Perhaps a letter is in order to good ol' G'pa Joe soon?

As I told someone earlier, the moral of the story is to avoid working at Russian candy factories at the turn of the century if one can possibly manage it.

Back to the U.S. song of the week - Friday

2005-07-01T00:13:00.000-07:00

The Walkmen, We've Been Had

Back to the U.S. song of the week - Thursday

2005-06-30T13:10:00.000-07:00

The Flaming Lips, Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, Part I

Back to the U.S. songs of the week - Wednesday

2005-06-29T21:54:00.000-07:00

Brazilian Girls, Long
The Cardigans, Iron Man

Fun with ID fraud

2005-06-29T05:59:00.000-07:00

So I am spending the early morning hours consolidating student loans before tomorrow's deadline. I am supposed to do C's, too (my roommate in Kenya right now). Trouble is, if I call in to the 800 number pretending to be her, I am lacking some critical information. First of all, she has at least two middle names and I only know one of them. And the one I do know is not the initial that is referenced on her paperwork. How much you wanna bet they'll ask for all the blasted names?

I just sent out a last minute emergency message to her to some kind of satellite email system they've set up out in the bush of Kenya. Let's hope technology doesn't fail us now. The 2.875% rate utterly depends on it.

Back to bed.

I think the mystery middle name is Catherine, but who knows.

Back to the U.S. song of the week - Tuesday

2005-06-29T00:40:00.000-07:00

Architecture in Helinski, Scissor Paper Rock

2005-06-28T16:30:00.000-07:00

Thus began my first week back in Berkeley...

You go away for a month and the world caves...

2005-06-28T16:11:00.000-07:00

So I was out of the States for a mere 29 days and I return to domestic chaos. For the last few days I have been scrambling around addressing this unforgiving laundry list.

1. A glaring 48 hour collection notice from EBMUD for unpaid water bills (my landlord pays this) - the notice was dated 6/23 and I still have water. As of this afternoon, the bill is still unpaid according to Lois, a customer account operator I talked to today.

Hmm, that will be a pleasant surprise when I go to turn the shower on tomorrow and (poof) nothing!

2. Jury summons from the Superior Court of Alameda County for my roommate who is in Africa. Luckilly, she didn't get called in, though I was kind of worried about it when I phoned the court hotline.

3. Broken pipe under my kitchen sink. My landlord is "working on it" as of yesterday. Time to pull out the duct tape I guess.

4. Starving feline at the back of my porch. My roommate Todd apparently doesn't have much pity for the thing. It looks like it's lost a few pounds since late May.

5. Student loan consolidation deadline - June 30. I got to find a few hours to get my paperwork together and lock in the lower rate. I am supposed to do the same for my Africa-bound roommate. Seeing how I have enough trouble getting my own paperwork in order...I forsee problems on this front.

6. To top it all off, Todd didn't lift any one of his little fingers while we've been away and the house was a disaster zone upon my return. I spent yesterday re-enacting scences out of Cinderella - me as the scullery maid. Thank the good Lord that he's hitting the high road from Bateman Street this month.

What disasters have befallen my fair readers this summer?