Some Color in The Family Tree

Here you see one of the rarer Gnomes of color at his San Diego residence. Do not let the cobwebs on his lips misguide you - he had plenty of wisdom to convey. The next time you run across one of his brethren I suggest taking a moment to gaze into the ancient, hollow eyes, and say "Hello in there." (yes, out loud). Same goes for gnomes disguised as street crazies. If you catch anyone staring don't mind them. They're just jealous like those kids that used to tease us in grade school. Freak flags do so much more good flying high than moldering in some closet. Still wondering if you are a freak? You're in the right place.  

What A Quarter Can Do

The Machine: Bride of Pin-Bot. That "Pinball Wizard" song has more depth for some of us than others. This lovely lady resides at my clean & friendly San Jose facility, right there in the main lunch room. Demands that I tithe her her dues, just like the devil. Fun too.  

Slow Smiles

I guess you could call me a mood enhancement researcher and developer, in the only the best senses of course; no seventh senses allowed. This morning I found a new one: Slow Smiling. You start with a angry or sad face, and then see how slowly one can come to full smile, or to maniacal laughter if it feels right. I admit that the idea may have been sparked by the Chappelle Show skit where everything is cooler in slow motion. The best part for me is when the faintest glimmer of a smile flashes over the frown face. Muscle control is key. The slower you do it the more the countless nuances of the smiling process reveal themselves. Most things can be improved by slowing them down. When my brothers and I were at the Supperclub we tried to walk together in slow motion all the way from the bar to the dance floor, but it proved quite difficult. We all started laughing after a minute or so, but it was cool as hell for the first thirty or forty seconds.

Later, driving across the Bay Bridge, I practiced another good one - projecting part of your spirit into nearby people and animals to experience their feelings and thoughts. Today I tried a Western Gull. feathers feel much different than hands, and each aspect of wind transmits through particular groups of feathers. Flying over water fully engages and exhilarates - just the kind of mood I prefer. Then I tried what I thought for sure was a full-sized poodle in the backseat of an economy car. The dog was thinking that the view from the bridge was all fine and good, but how it would much rather run outdoors, lope over hills & through dales, maybe cross a creek or two. When I pulled closer I found that the dog was actually a blue-haired human, and so momentarily doubted my spirit projection skills. When I passed them though, I could see the amazingly wrinkled, I'm talking maximum imaginable wrinklage, hunch-backed and beautiful lady leaning forward, speaking alertly, and gesturing towards the Marin Headlands. She wished to lope over hill & dale, maybe cross a creek or three, a kindred soul for shore. Spent half my 12th year year reading "non-fiction" and fiction were-beast books, getting familiar with all this stuff, berserkr.

End of the Dying Season

Mmm hmmmm doooommmm, the Dying Season's reign begins to falter, and still so many people, animals, and plants left living, and so many more recently born. The arctic system coming through now reminds me that it ain't over yet, but the green hills and fruit tree buds think it won't be long. I figure that if the chronically ill make it past February in California they'll probably last until next Winter. The sudden "unexpected" deaths become more likely in Summer of course, Chinese medicine's heart season. These cycles and statistical curves fascinate me, every 24 hours a miniature year. Remember, too much joy is injurious to the heart, especially on Summer afternoons.

When we were in San Diego a couple weeks ago my in-laws gave me a coat. Very dark blue, long, soft, warm, three buttons, made in Romania, the kind more common in the Northeast and Europe. This colder weather gave me the chance to wear it today and I must say that a coat like this really can transform a person. It reminds of a long coat I once purchased at the Berzerkeley flea market during a drunken collegiate spending spree. That one was a black & gray silk-lined wool herring-bone that looked & felt great with a scarf, with bonus action while bicycle riding. I wore it long after the split up the back had started to rip. I have a picture of myself sporting it during a friendly field trip to the waterfall between Monte Rio and Camp Meeker, oozing adventure and broadcasting fancy-free confident essence of fun. A friend borrowed it one cold night, kept it for a few months, and the salty dog arrived home a shadow of rag of a coat. I let it go with all it's adventuring memories. I am realizing this instant that this new blue coat is that old coat reincarnated, super badass. Must find a fitting scarf. This Romanian, dry-clean only coat has charm and charisma, a personality of it's own. Those in-laws they have vision, probably even second sight. More to learn, more veils to lift, as long as the reaper remains on one's left.

Not a player, I just crush a lot

Not to brag or anything, but take a moment to let this crusher of an expression soak in. Zoolander, Mr. Dean, you can retire now, especially you Mr. Dean, being so long dead and all. "Not a player, I just crush a lot." --The CRUSHER.

Ok, maybe I'm projecting a little far into the future and it's an unhealthy point of view, but it's fun and I'm notoriously reckless. Never had a reck to start with, as memory serves.  

Just the Beginning

We had fun with the art of bicycle maintenance last weekend, injury free no less. A friend of mine (Nana) recently broke his finger while showing his son what you should never do when a wheel is spinning, which I almost fell trap to, but the memory of his story surfaced in the nick of time. Hot damn I love that bike; notice the subtle graphics on the bottom. 

Good Old & Crusty Valentine's Day

Believe it or else! Valentine's Day has finally arrived, chock full of the best of times and the worst of times (take your pick). The weather cooperated fairly enough, gorgeous in the morning, blustery in the afternoon, with a wintry nip showing through.

Stopped by Middle Harbor Shoreline on my way back from SF this afternoon. Low tide had exposed a nice little sand beach. The wet granules felt like a sea of leisure through my shoes. The wind had whipped up some pretty nice ankle slappers for the bay. I touched the cheery little succors, just for the salty ritual of it, then got back to work.

Rode Briones last Sunday, Joaquin Miller last Wednesday. Due to the recent precipitation-free weather, trail conditions were excellent (said in the voice of Montgomery Burns). Cleaned Chapparal trail at Joaquin Miller; seemed stone cold easy compared to it's rain-drenched self. The Bitch, unfortunately, cleaned me, and was the source of my only unexpected dismount. There's a tree lined, root-filled, steep curve at Briones that left the tip of my right pinky permanently bent a couple years ago, but I cleaned that nicely too, which always makes me smile. Several mudslides combined with hoofprints made for interesting new aspects to a few of the Briones fireroads, fun by any other name. Still plenty of mud to go around. Mountain bike #1 exudes perpetual filth. The caked soil shown brightly enough for the mother of a newborn that parked behind me at Joaquin Miller to remark that the bicycle looked as if I had fun on it. These little encouragements that strangers bequeath hold special value to me, even if it implies that I should clean my bike more often. I've been training my son to clean it, but he's a little young yet.

Another Winter Dawn Spent Driving

So many hours behind the wheel in this lifetime, boggles my tunnel vision. Drove to San Diego Friday and back yesterday, towing a trailer, aching & braking, passing & slowing watching unabridged sunsets breath rasping last breaths. Slept on the king size bed last night that we drove to get, very kingly. The funny part was that when I first woke up this morning I thought to myself "yeah, this bed really is nice", only to realize that I was on the old guest twin on the floor, having groggily switched beds in the night.

The Big Payback club at the DNA Lounge this Friday 2/10/06 should be extra special. It's a celebration of women in hip-hop. Pam the Funkstress from The Coupe headlines. The late afternoon KFJC DJ talked it up a lot today. Hopefully it won't sell out since I don't plan to buy advance tickets.

Also looking forward to Buckethead at the Great American on the 25th. X at Slim's the same night also vies for attention but seems to be losing ($10 more at a crappier venue).