Thursday, September 30, 2004
I'm tired of being told "no."
I'm only allowed 2 props. 2 props isn't even close to "mAd PrOpS". This shit ain't even close to where it needs to be in terms of accurately expressing my "prop" needs.
Cycle Gear Rulez!! Although they didn't have valve shims for my RD at the SF store...
I agree. Cycle gear is sooooooo weak, in fact all motorcycle stores are weak. They are always staffed with complete jerks, who won't help you and act like you've never seen a bike before. Not to mention the fact that you had the nerve to ask for help, now that I'm thinking about it, screw scuderia west too.Posted by B. on Wednesday, October 06, 2004 at 11:27 PM
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
Current mood: "awesome!"
Oh good. Now you can give "props" to people in their blogs.
What the hell does that mean? Is it a shorthand for making actual comment? Cuz I love anything that will keep me from actually having to think too hard. oh, yeah!
I also see that I can tell you my mood and what I'm doing. So I can choose from "touched," "predatory," "numb," "contemplative," "indescribable," etc.
Ugh. Wait, no, this is "awesome!" More ways to be EMO!
I'm feeling awesome. Always. But you gotta say it like Doc. "Awesome!"
I also get all this crap:
and so on.
I'm so glad.
why can't I make the stupid happy faces work?
mad props to me, yo!
damn, I guess you can't give yourself props.
John Foley (ape)
Well, thinking too hard does give you wrinkles. So you lucked out!
No props for you.
Charles: poops? I will give you poops!
Posted by Charles on Saturday, October 02, 2004 at 7:06 PM
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
Now, I’ve lived in this neighborhood for ten years, but I clean up better than most of the other residents. I got the distinct feeling they had us pegged for out of towners that got lost in the slums. The first charm was that the bartendress asked us what we wanted, but told us “nothing complicated.” Yay! What a great place! We went about enjoying our drinks while all hell broke loose around us, with a drunken Irishman throwing a cellphone, smashing a bottle, and storming out. Awesome!
On to dinner, at Axum East. I’ve been to the one in the Lower Haight several times, and was pleasantly surprised. Much bigger, and the food seemed just as good. A little different ambiance, but whatever.
Decided to catch the earlier Mousetrap show instead of going to the Vertigo bar, and since I was confused about the actual time, we piled into the car and went. At some point I realized it was an hour earlier than I’d thought so we stopped for a Barrel of Monkeys flaming drink for four at the Lingba Lounge. Charles requested parlor tricks and got them, then looked perturbed.
Out to Hunter’s Point for the Mousetrap thingy. There was liquor and a burn barrel and some couches, so I was happy. The sky was beautiful and I had some of my favorite people around. It was a good time. Oh yeah, there was a life size mousetrap, like the game. Yeah. Cool, but just a fraction of the fun for me. Fun was getting up and down the hillside in my ridiculous furry platform boots with chrome heels. I totally did not break my ankles!
Where next? Sara wants to go to Noc Noc. I mention donuts at the roundabout and Charles wants to go back to do it. And the Mighty Festiva is squealing with joy as we jerk around the circle several times. Charles has not been drinking, and deserves to have his fun too. Finally we exit the circle and make our way to Noc Noc where we get nearly rockstar parking and find ourselves with a crappy floor table. We are all folded up sitting on the floor in a room full of stinky smokers and hippies. The table next to us looks more comfortable. Sara mentions that next she wants to go somewhere she can dance, and I suggest the table next to us. It hardly takes any cajoling at all, and she is ON IT! Charles gave me money to put in her waistband. The people sitting there look bemused, then get up and vacate. Yay! We got a much better table. Unfortunately, sara cannot find the money she earned.
Saturday morning we got ready to go meet Sara and Charles to ride Mt. Hamilton. Paul has never been before, this is one of my favorite rides. But, it’s raining. Just a little when I wake up. Forecast says it will clear up. Anyway, we’re all on dirtbikes, and traction is really just a bonus. But Charles will have none of it, so Paul and I decided to go without them. Then got lazy and confused and made bizarre plans based on the fact that we both thought it was Saturday. Anyway, it ended up not mattering because he couldn’t start his bike. It seems that the XR series won’t run without a sparkplug, and his was stolen while it was parked by my house. Sheesh! Very ironic, since we had just been discussing this very issue, and the fact that his sparkplug wouldn’t even work for smoking crack. Something about a carbon core, or, oh who cares, anyway, two up to Scuderia was an adventure, as I haven’t had a passenger in ages and I only have one passenger peg.
Fast forward to the afternoon, when we finally got to Mt. Hamilton. It had rained in San Jose also, but it wasn’t raining when we got there. The ride up was nice, very little traffic, but the road was a bit slippery. Water in the corners where the trees were. Very thick fog at the top, but very very pretty. This is the first time in a long time that I’ve gotten to the top and NOT seen that asshole UC cop. Guess it was too cold for him to bother. Took the little telescope tour/lecture, and warmed our asses on the heaters inside, then headed down the back. I think this was one of the nicest runs I’ve ever had down the backside and Mines road. Saw a lot of wildlife—deer, quail, some other neat looking birds. Paul saw two tarantulas. Just a beautiful day for a ride. Stopped at the Junction, which for once had no other motorcycles, but was full of colorful locals inside. Headed back into the East Bay, where I of course became lost. Took me like an hour to recover and finally found my way back for a cup of tea before heading home for another week of drudgery.
I thought the whole point of computers and all that crap was so that we could spend all our time playing, while the robots and computers did all the work.
I feel so gypped.>
Thursday, September 16, 2004
Is that what you're calling Paul now? At least you can finally admit it, you big lesbo.Posted by John Foley on Friday, September 17, 2004 at 10:16 AM
Hey, I didn't "out" you!!!!
Oh, wait, I guess it's not really necessary.
John Foley (ape)
OUT? I was never IN!Posted by John Foley on Saturday, September 18, 2004 at 1:54 PM
Jimy did pretty well for himself with this thing and wants to give someone a bunch of money to encourage them to vote. I think that's pretty cool. I think it'd be even cooler if he gave ME the money, but, whatever....
Go here, sign up, look at Jim and James with no clothes on, win big money, and VOTE.
ps. if you win, you should buy me an ice cream cone. With sprinkles.>
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
Both parties suck, (I happen to think one sucks less than the other. And right now, that's very important to me.) and they both think that there's a dollar amount on each vote. Some voters are worth investing in, others are not. If you're reading this, you're probably in the "don't waste the campaign dollars" category. They're counting on your apathy to let them run the country for their own purposes.
So, for the sake of my grandfather, please do your goddam job. Go. Vote. It's not so hard, and you get a little sticker when you turn in your ballot.
And, who DOESN'T like a sticker?
You people all need to move to Russia.Posted by John Foley on Thursday, September 16, 2004 at 8:38 AM
please backtrack to their home page, for many inspirational messages.
register to and vote.
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
Last year we all had to evacuate the building (and the entire four or five blocks) because their "controlled burn," wasn't.
Not so funny to the people who live here.
My eyes/contacts are bothering me, so I know I'm not imagining the smoke in the air right now...
Monday, September 13, 2004
And had a generally wonderful weekend. Again. What did I do to deserve all this?
I finally saw the buffalo in Golden Gate Park. All these years I've lived here and never gone to see them... and, uhhh, it was a little anti-climactic. Those are some seriously ugly and lazy creatures. And the double fence means it's hard to poke, prod, or otherwise pester them.
Some macaroon took the perfectly divey-bar by my house and turned it into a hip-hop-lounge sort of place. Which I wouldn't even care about, except it was nightclub-loud with some crappy DJ mixing disco and hip-hop, or whatever the fuck they call it these days. ***NEWS FLASH: Disco sucks! It might have been sort of funny and ironic the first time someone mixed it into modern "music," but now it's just sucking and making you look like a dumbass with bad taste.*** I preferred the dirty dive bar incarnation greatly. Plus there was no liquor in my drink. Boo. Now where should I go to drink in the neighborhood?
I have not seen charles in so long, I think I am going to cry.>
Thursday, September 09, 2004
Pushed a block to park her at the Chevron, then hiked up the block where it fell off. Found it in the crosswalk (must have fallen off immediately after I'd shifted up from that light.) Watched a few cars run it over, and retrieved it. Cleaned a bunch of crud off of it (Thank you Redwood City Honda for ignoring my warantee-covered oil leak. Fuckers) and found a truck full of cheery Irish guys with tools. (Thank you "Sparky's Electric!")
Stuck it on and tightened it a bit with the wrong tools, will check again when I get home tonight.
I know, I need to wash the dirtbike and tighten bolts.
Also, my chain is so loose, I fear I may run over it. Heh.>
Wednesday, September 08, 2004
So every year just before Burning Man, I always think “this is the last time.” And then every year, when I come back, I’m so thrilled, can’t wait to get back next year… Then when it approaches, I’m tired of it again.
This year, I really think it may be the last time. At least for a while. I don’t know for sure that the event and the art were less than in the past. I do know that my involvement, inspiration, and motivation have dwindled, and my interaction was so minimal that I’m not sure I could justify another trip next year.
Which isn’t to say I didn’t have a good time. I had a REALLY good time.
Left Wednesday after work, tossed a little bag onto the bike, met the boy (yes, there’s a BOY), and we headed up to beautiful downtown Oroville for the night, at a five-star Days Inn, or something like it. Intention was to get a few hours north for the night, and save the daylight and rushing so we could enjoy the scenic ride out and still get in to BRC in time to gather our crap and set up in the daylight.
Watched Martha Stewart brainwashing freaky little kids on the TV and learned how to make a Barbie cake. Conked out and got up late (hello? Days Inn alarm clocks are not to be trusted) Packed up and then tore everything apart looking for my bike key. (I brought a spare, but still) Gave up and then found it under my back tire. Is this a bad sign?
Breakfast was iffy, but we quickly found our way up to highway 70 Feather River Canyon, which is one of the purtiest roads I’ve ever ridden. After finally losing the cop, we enjoyed tiny spurts of fun in between trucks and unresponsive traffic switches for the bridge work. Seriously, I LOVE this road. I’d love to come back to the area for a camping weekend or somesuch. Maybe rent an Airstream at “Jackass Flats?”
Into Susanville for lunch and then went looking for our dirt road. Which was, uhhh, completely unmarked, so we passed it. Doubled back and guessed on which turn-off it was, and with some luck, I was right. Smoke Creek Desert road, or whatever it’s called, is a dirt/gravel road across the desert from 395 to about 10 miles north of Gerlach. Very little traffic, really pretty and un-developed. Gravel and some rocky bits tossed my bike around a little, but I definitely was doing better than I did last year on the same road. The XR behind me was handicapped by street tires, so I got to have the delusion that I was doing well, comparatively. Noticed a cave on the left side of the road, and meant to come back to it on the return trip for exploration.
Got to Gerlach and it was still NOT hot. At all. At the gas station, one of the Perimeter workers asked if we were going in to BRC now. “It’s really bad in there,” he told us. Um? Really bad, like what? Like it’s wall to wall hippies? There’s no running water? It’s hot? It’s cold? You fucking dumbass, it’s a goddam desert! “Bad what?” “It’s a total whiteout,” he says. I stopped myself from saying “OH, shit, I guess I’ll just go home then.” “It’s OK, I’m on a dirtbike,” has become my answer to any of this brand of stupidity (It’s raining/dusty/hot/cold/muddy/there’s traffic/there’s no parking/what-the-fuck-ever). “Well, you have to go in through the gate!” he gets all exciteable. No shit, dumbass, but now that you mention it, I COULD go in through the side if they’re all as dumb as you.
Into the city, to the airport, found my sister and parked our crap at Thunderdome. Started trekking around to get our shit to camp. (why must my sister camp on the other side of the world?) I was drinking by the end of my second trip to schlep stuff, and the tent was up before sundown. Happy happy.
And then a bunch of stuff in between. I think every time at Burning Man, at least for me, it’s a little different. Some years I’ve spent a lot of time working at thunderdome. Some times it’s all about the art and the city, some years it’s been about the people I meet and get to know. This year my focus was very narrow and very nearby. I was downright reclusive with this incredible boy, and carry a bit of guilt and a lot of joy from that. We traipsed around suffering through intense blisters and had a damn fine time. Drank a bit, gave bad advice and ate my sister’s food. There was some really cool art, and a lot that didn’t capture me at all. It was a good time, but I’m not sure it was a patently “Burning Man” experience.
I’m writing this so I’ll remember: Fuck the Temple Burn. In the past few years this has been one of the high points for me. I’ve never gone out to watch the Man burn, preferring to stay at camp away from the crowds of yahoos and tweakers. The temple has always been a more quiet, reflective burn. This year it was so very different, I nearly followed Kevy’s lead and walked out. I stayed, but the bitterness won’t go away. The crowd of people gathered was just an extension of the yahoos; there was yelling and bitching, complaining, selfish fuckups and some dumbass with laser pointers. I never heard such angry hippies! “fuck you,” “fat bitch,” and an assortment of other insults and pathetic empty threats were tossed around the group while we sat. They yelled over the singing and complained about every goddam thing around them. I won’t return for that. I’m so sorry for David Best and his team. Every time I see his/their work, I’m in awe, but the crowds that have gathered are not worthy. The burn itself was beautiful, as was the temple in its finished state, but the rest of the experience was really disgusting.
Monday morning plan was to leave ASAP to get our asses onto that dirt road for the long trip home. Note to self: do NOT use angle iron to stake a tent. Left much later than we wished, and only after fucking with my bike when it wouldn’t start. So we took 80 instead, and in order to avoid my falling asleep while riding, we rode like jackasses most of the way. Weeeeeeee! Got home in good time, tired, dirty, and, at least for me, a little euphoric.
glad u like the boi
sorry BM was just that, a BM
heehee BM.Posted by John Foley on Sunday, September 12, 2004 at 11:07 AM