the empty stage: July 2003

"You had a gray suit and a red bow tie."

well, yeah. they all did...
but good luck, honey!

I don't care how much fog is out there, or that I'm wearing my Helly Hansen fleece jacket to keep warm, I'm eating a bowl of fresh raspberries. it's summer, dammit.
yum!

I'm house-sitting in West Portal!

-the newspaper gets delivered every day.
-if there weren't so much (so much!) fog, I could see the ocean from right here.
-the house is full of books, most of which I've never read. whee!
-and music! much of which I don't own. Thelonious Monk galore. I'm a happy girl.
-dsl madness!
-rooms where nobody sleeps or cooks! amazing.

however, the practicality of an apartment the size of a shoe box is becoming very clear to me.
for example, at home I can simply reach over to the silverware drawer from the kitchen table if I need a fork.
here, I have to get up and walk all the way over to the other side of the room. it's completely exhausting. I don't know how people do it.

My shiny red bicycle got a very lovely invitation to go out and play with the Pee Wees for Paul Reubens Day '03, but alas, we were unable to join the fun.
I did, however, catch up with the group at the memorial service for Karl at 826 Valencia. I arrived a little late, but in time to hear moving speeches about Karl; there was some enthusiastic arrrgh-ing from some pirates, and a somewhat confusing speech about bringing the Pee Wees and the Pirates together (a shout of "let no more blood be shed!" was heard from the back).
There was a big sheet of paper upon which folks were writing things about and for Karl; Eli showed up and wrote "I know you needed an infinitely bigger tank. Enjoy."
*sniffle*
The Pee Wees certainly seemed to have had a fabulous day! I look forward to the photographs. Before they disappeared from Valencia Street, Miss Yvonne said they were headed to the The Parole Violator's Fair, and invited me to join them, but I very sadly had to decline... I do hope someone tells me all about it.

and please don't forget:
When in doubt, swab.

a smidget of recent reading:

The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven, by Sherman Alexie
Nights at the Circus [note: long, with lots of spoilers], by Angela Carter
Fury, by Salman Rushdie
Everything is Illuminated, by Jonathan Safran Foer
The Sadeian Woman and the Ideology of Pornography, by Angela Carter
Devil in a Blue Dress, by Walter Mosley

small victories, part one

Yesterday I took my bike out for a spin. It was a gorgeous evening, and I was way out in China Basin, when I went over a couple nasty bumps, and then a few train tracks, and suddenly- I was pedaling air. I pulled over to the sidewalk to investigate, and oh man, my chain had fallen off. not broken, fortunately. I briefly considered how long the walk might be, but Loli is not a lass easily carried, and so I put down the kickstand and prepared to operate.
Now, my experience with fixing things- any kind of things- is minimal, but I'm okay with puzzles, so I thought, "no problem! I'll just- fix her!" I flipped her over and discovered that the cover over the chain, which so wonderfully protects my pants, gets mightily in the way of any fiddling around with the chain area. After a few minutes, a guy rode by and asked me if I had enough tools for what I was doing. I panicked, in my head, thinking: "tools? am I supposed to be using tools? oh, shit! I have no idea what I'm doing!" but said, "uh, no! thanks! I think I've got it!" "Because if you needed some tools I've got some in my backpack." "oh, no... I, uh, think I'm fine! just need to get the, uh, this, um. on. thanks, though!"
and then I fixed it! I rode home with hands covered in grease, and a great deal of pride.
you may applaud now.
curtsey

Karl is King

Karl!

you were the bravest pufferfish;
you had the bluest eyes.
you were a big flirt
with a sweet fishy soul.

you gave me great comfort on several different occasions;
although
I do realize
that you couldn't exactly swim away from me,
you were very gracious about it.

swim in the big ocean now.
I will blow you a kiss the next time I dip my toes in the waves.
today, I am sad.

had a conversation with a co-worker, a most excellent and humorous person, about the time he spent in Peru when he was sixteen:

me: how long were you there?
him: well, it was supposed to be a year, but I had to leave after four months because of the war...
me: gee, that sucks.
him: oh, it wasn't so bad. I learned how to make pipe bombs...

Recently I went to the SF Opera for the first time to see La Cenerentola, and I screwed up my foot by running, in high heeled boots, for the bus... (what? Buffy did it all the time.)
Today, I finally went to see a physical therapist about my foot, and while I was relieved to learn that it may be fixed, I was greatly saddened to learn the definition of things such as "bunions" and "falling arches."
The opera was fabuloso, and I'm thinking about getting cheapo season tickets for next year- well, as cheapo as they get, anyway. They're going to do a few familiar ones- The Magic Flute, The Barber of Seville, La Boheme- and a whole bunch I don't know anything about, z.B. Shostakovich's Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk and Janacek's The Cunning Little Vixen. Who on earth can resist an opera called "The Cunning Little Vixen"? I can't. I may regret it, but I can't resist it.

-I can't believe that, in the blurb I just saw about the California governorship on PBS, they showed a two second clip from some Terminator movie as they mentioned potential candidates for the next election.
I mean, do I really live in a state where Ah-nold could run? What planet is this? San Francisco should just secede already.

-You really must see Style Wars, a most excellent documentary from 1983 about graffiti and hip hop.

-Saw Spoon at the Fillmore. The show was great. I'd never been to the Fillmore before- it's fabulous, but what's with the apples?

-my porzellanblume is growing like there's no tomorrow.
whee! summer!

-I can get a flight to Berlin for 500 bucks if I fly in November...

let's see that again

Al Sharpton 2004?

"That's like saying you give blacks, or whites, or Latinos the right to shack up -- but not get married,'" said the Rev. Al Sharpton, who said the very question of whether gays ought to be eligible for marriage was insulting.
"It's like asking do I support black marriage or white marriage. . . . The inference of the question is that gays are not like other human beings."