Well, last weekend I left late for the Bay Area on Saturday morning, because I just had to get my eyebrows done first. I had tried to do it on Friday, but there were no appointments left, and I really was quite desperate. ("Ah vanity, speak thou a little softer, my sweet, lest you betray your presence...")
So anyway, I didn't get on the road til 10, but that was ok. I figured I would get to In-N-Out at Kettleman City (Junction 41) just in time for lunch. And I would have, if I hadn't been in some other world and entirely missed the exit; in fact, I didn't even know I missed it until I realized from the unmistakable, all-too-pervasive scent of cow manure that I was close to Harris Ranch, which meant I was no longer close to In-N-Out. I was very disappointed. I ended up settling for Subway at Santa Nella about an hour later, but it really wasn't the same at all. When your mouth is watering and your stomach is longing for a double-double with cheese, you aren't exactly thrilled by sweet onion chicken teriyaki.
And just so you know, it's really hard to eat while driving a stick-shift.
I also slaughtered something like 3.2 million butterflies during one stretch of road, and it was very upsetting. I don't know why they were all suddenly there, but there they were, and there was nothing I could do to avoid hitting them. I was depressed after that for a little while.
But eventually I made it to the Bay Area, had dinner in Berkeley, and then got to see my friends Yardley put on a show on the top floor of a building that looked more like an abandoned house than an Epic Arts Studio. From the street, we saw a red light coming out of a window, and that's where the music was coming from. On the corner was a heavily graffitied liquor store, and across the street was a park (lit by the glaring lights of the nearby Ashby BART station), where men were gathering suspiciously. I grant that perhaps they were not, in fact, dealing drugs or anything illegal; perhaps they were members of a night-time knitting club. Anything's possible, but having been held up and robbed in Berkeley once before, I confess to leaning more toward being suspicious than trustful. Besides, how many men really knit? I ask you.
But the show was great. If you didn't go, you missed out. Yardley in particular rocked, and I'm not just saying that because they are my friends. They were my favorite in a very strong, talented lineup, featuring Dawn Thomas, Amber Rubarth, and others. Great sets, all acoustic, and for only $5. Not a bad deal at all.
Speaking of music, I'm really glad that God gave music to us as a gift, because if he hadn't, I'd just have to invent it because I like it so much, but I'm not very good at inventing things, so I'd probably have to delegate it to someone else, only I'm even worse at delegating than I am at inventing, so what I'm really trying to say here is that the human race would be out of luck. And yes, I think I know I've made absolutely no sense whatsoever, but that's the sort of thing I write after spending nearly the entire day yesterday alone in my car with nothing but an iPod to keep me company.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Monday, May 02, 2005
Heading Home
About to hit the road back to Los Angeles, and I'd just like to say that I'm glad that there are bands out there like They Might Be Giants and that they write songs like "Experimental Film."
I also think Weezer's blue album is just about one of the greatest gifts to lone, long-distance drivers ever. Too bad I don't have it anymore. Sigh...
Ok, catch ya on the south side, and I'll have more info on the weekend, because it was a really good one and I'd love to share it with you.
Until then...
I also think Weezer's blue album is just about one of the greatest gifts to lone, long-distance drivers ever. Too bad I don't have it anymore. Sigh...
Ok, catch ya on the south side, and I'll have more info on the weekend, because it was a really good one and I'd love to share it with you.
Until then...
Friday, April 29, 2005
I Don't Know How To Title This One
I've been drinking a lot of diet soda, not because I'm on a diet, but because I feel like I'm starting to drink too much soda in general. So instead of going cold turkey, which seems to work for a few days and then doesn't, I'm trying to fool myself into thinking that soda is really gross. I hate diet cola especially, so I figure if I drink it enough, I'll forget what real cola tastes like; like maybe I'll forget that I really love the taste of, say, an ice-cold Coke. Regular Coke.
The problem is, I tend to add things to my diet cola to make it more palatable, such as vanilla extract. If that sounds disgusting, well, it actually kind of is, but not nearly as disgusting as the diet cola by itself. The point is, I realized today that I'm trying to convince myself not to drink soda by drinking soda that I don't like, and then attempting to make the soda I don't like taste better so that I will like drinking it.
I've come to the conclusion that I might be insane.
On another note: if you're in the Bay Area, don't forget to check out Yardley at Epic Arts Studio in Berkeley on Saturday night! Maybe I'll see you there--after I hopefully have dinner at the Crepe Vine. Oh, how I miss that place!
Well, have a great weekend whatever you end up doing.
The problem is, I tend to add things to my diet cola to make it more palatable, such as vanilla extract. If that sounds disgusting, well, it actually kind of is, but not nearly as disgusting as the diet cola by itself. The point is, I realized today that I'm trying to convince myself not to drink soda by drinking soda that I don't like, and then attempting to make the soda I don't like taste better so that I will like drinking it.
I've come to the conclusion that I might be insane.
On another note: if you're in the Bay Area, don't forget to check out Yardley at Epic Arts Studio in Berkeley on Saturday night! Maybe I'll see you there--after I hopefully have dinner at the Crepe Vine. Oh, how I miss that place!
Well, have a great weekend whatever you end up doing.
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Driving
Last night I heard the rain in my sleep. I thought I was dreaming, but when I woke up, the ground outside was wet.
I hope that it is partly cloudy on Saturday, for my drive up to San Francisco. I don't like driving in the rain, but I also don't like to see blank blue sky on that long, straight drive. I'll be taking I-5 because it's a little quicker than 101, although I will miss the view of the sea.
On the other hand, I'll get to see the windmills along 580, and that is not a bad substitute.
Speaking of driving, here are my top five drives in New Zealand, in no particular order:
5) Christchurch to Queenstown, passing Mt Aoraki along the way.
I really like this drive mostly because it takes you past Lake Tekapo. I never saw a lake quite that color before...an opaque, slightly turquoise blue. And off in the distance, the little cloud that hovers perpetually over Mt Cook.
4) Lewis Pass
I did this drive in the early days of spring, 2003. Wow. I stopped off at a trail, what was the name of it? Sumner Track, I think. I was alone. There was a long swing bridge, like something you'd see in Indiana Jones. I crossed it, and the whole time all I could think as I looked down at the rushing river and rocks below was, "If this thing breaks and I fall to my death, no one will ever know." Because no one knew where I was.
3) Christchurch to Akaroa via Lyttleton, then out to the peninsula
My brother and I did this one together. I can't describe the view we saw when we finally got out of the car near the peninsula, except to say that I never knew there really was a place where, when you looked off into the distance, you really couldn't tell the difference between sky and sea. But there is, and we were there.
2) Te Anau to Milford Sound (especially after the Homer Tunnel)
Before the tunnel is fine, but passing through it, you come out on the other side and the mountains are suddenly all around you, jagged, barren, and wild. On a stormy day, waterfalls are everywhere, and you can't see the mountain peaks because they are lost in the mist.
1) Kaikoura to Blenheim
This is probably my favorite drive, hands-down. I did it several times during my two stays in NZ, and I never, ever got tired of it.
I wish I had pictures of all of these drives, but I don't. You will just have to go to New Zealand and check them out for yourself.
(By the way, the above are all drives on the south island. I do have a few favorites on the north island as well, but perhaps I will save those for another post. I don't know why they didn't make the top five; I liked the north island, but I have to admit that my heart was all for the south.)
I hope that it is partly cloudy on Saturday, for my drive up to San Francisco. I don't like driving in the rain, but I also don't like to see blank blue sky on that long, straight drive. I'll be taking I-5 because it's a little quicker than 101, although I will miss the view of the sea.
On the other hand, I'll get to see the windmills along 580, and that is not a bad substitute.
Speaking of driving, here are my top five drives in New Zealand, in no particular order:
5) Christchurch to Queenstown, passing Mt Aoraki along the way.
I really like this drive mostly because it takes you past Lake Tekapo. I never saw a lake quite that color before...an opaque, slightly turquoise blue. And off in the distance, the little cloud that hovers perpetually over Mt Cook.
4) Lewis Pass
I did this drive in the early days of spring, 2003. Wow. I stopped off at a trail, what was the name of it? Sumner Track, I think. I was alone. There was a long swing bridge, like something you'd see in Indiana Jones. I crossed it, and the whole time all I could think as I looked down at the rushing river and rocks below was, "If this thing breaks and I fall to my death, no one will ever know." Because no one knew where I was.
3) Christchurch to Akaroa via Lyttleton, then out to the peninsula
My brother and I did this one together. I can't describe the view we saw when we finally got out of the car near the peninsula, except to say that I never knew there really was a place where, when you looked off into the distance, you really couldn't tell the difference between sky and sea. But there is, and we were there.
2) Te Anau to Milford Sound (especially after the Homer Tunnel)
Before the tunnel is fine, but passing through it, you come out on the other side and the mountains are suddenly all around you, jagged, barren, and wild. On a stormy day, waterfalls are everywhere, and you can't see the mountain peaks because they are lost in the mist.
1) Kaikoura to Blenheim
This is probably my favorite drive, hands-down. I did it several times during my two stays in NZ, and I never, ever got tired of it.
I wish I had pictures of all of these drives, but I don't. You will just have to go to New Zealand and check them out for yourself.
(By the way, the above are all drives on the south island. I do have a few favorites on the north island as well, but perhaps I will save those for another post. I don't know why they didn't make the top five; I liked the north island, but I have to admit that my heart was all for the south.)
Fine Wine
Catch the foxes for us, the little foxes that spoil the vineyards, for our vines have tender grapes.--Song of Solomon 2:15
There is a scene in the movie Sideways where a man and a woman are seated on a porch at night, and the man likes the woman very much but he is afraid to tell her, and the woman likes the man very much, but she might be afraid that perhaps he doesn't like her (it is harder to tell what she is thinking, and that could be part of the reason the man is afraid too). They are both connoisseurs of wine, and the man particularly likes pinot, and as they sip on a fine vintage (the name of which escapes me now, and it may or may not actually be pinot), the woman leans forward and asks the man why he likes pinot so much anyway; what makes it so different, for him, from other wines? So he tells her (his voice tender, almost shy) about how the pinot grapes are not easily grown, how they are thin-skinned, delicate, "temperamental," requiring constant care and attention. They only grow in certain pockets of the world, because of requiring precise weather conditions. They aren't "survivors," he says, not like cabernet which will grow just about anywhere; ah, but when they do survive, when the wine is made, what a brilliant, "ancient flavor"! And nothing (you can see he means this), nothing can compare to it.
The man looks at his glass more than the woman as he speaks, but her eyes never leave his face, and you know that she knows that on some level he is talking about himself, even if he doesn't know it. But I think he is also talking about the woman he will love, because deep inside himself, he doesn't want just anyone, and especially he doesn't want someone who doesn't need him to help her grow.
And I know, though neither of them do, that he is really talking about me, and that I also am like the pinot grapes, full of promise, but easily broken and bruised, if I am not handled with exquisite gentleness and care; a loving regard, not just for what I am, but for what I will be someday.
The finest wine is appreciated most by the one who waits.
There is a scene in the movie Sideways where a man and a woman are seated on a porch at night, and the man likes the woman very much but he is afraid to tell her, and the woman likes the man very much, but she might be afraid that perhaps he doesn't like her (it is harder to tell what she is thinking, and that could be part of the reason the man is afraid too). They are both connoisseurs of wine, and the man particularly likes pinot, and as they sip on a fine vintage (the name of which escapes me now, and it may or may not actually be pinot), the woman leans forward and asks the man why he likes pinot so much anyway; what makes it so different, for him, from other wines? So he tells her (his voice tender, almost shy) about how the pinot grapes are not easily grown, how they are thin-skinned, delicate, "temperamental," requiring constant care and attention. They only grow in certain pockets of the world, because of requiring precise weather conditions. They aren't "survivors," he says, not like cabernet which will grow just about anywhere; ah, but when they do survive, when the wine is made, what a brilliant, "ancient flavor"! And nothing (you can see he means this), nothing can compare to it.
The man looks at his glass more than the woman as he speaks, but her eyes never leave his face, and you know that she knows that on some level he is talking about himself, even if he doesn't know it. But I think he is also talking about the woman he will love, because deep inside himself, he doesn't want just anyone, and especially he doesn't want someone who doesn't need him to help her grow.
And I know, though neither of them do, that he is really talking about me, and that I also am like the pinot grapes, full of promise, but easily broken and bruised, if I am not handled with exquisite gentleness and care; a loving regard, not just for what I am, but for what I will be someday.
The finest wine is appreciated most by the one who waits.
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
The One?
One of my single girlfriends and I recently had parallel relationship experiences where, in the space of pretty much the exact same period of time, we both met guys that we liked, whom we dated or hung out with for awhile, and then watched everything fall apart in the end. And our similar situations (made worse by the fact that we are both turning the big 3-0 this year) engender endless conversations over coffee, tea, and occasionally large amounts of chocolate, during which we seek to discover:
1) What's wrong with us, and
2) What's wrong with them ("them" being the entire male species)
We don't get very far with either of these topics in terms of getting to an answer, but they are the sort of things that girls talk about at great length, so, being girls, that's what we do. You can't escape the mandate of your genes.
But another thing we talk about is the question of whether or not there is a "The One" for everyone, and by The One, I mean one particular person who out of all the other people on earth, is designed just for you, and vice versa. I have my own opinions on this (like that's a big surprise), but while I sort them out, I'm curious to know what other people think. So tell me.
1) What's wrong with us, and
2) What's wrong with them ("them" being the entire male species)
We don't get very far with either of these topics in terms of getting to an answer, but they are the sort of things that girls talk about at great length, so, being girls, that's what we do. You can't escape the mandate of your genes.
But another thing we talk about is the question of whether or not there is a "The One" for everyone, and by The One, I mean one particular person who out of all the other people on earth, is designed just for you, and vice versa. I have my own opinions on this (like that's a big surprise), but while I sort them out, I'm curious to know what other people think. So tell me.
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
TV: Prescription for Illness
I'm sick today. I hate being sick when it is beautiful and sunny outside. Well, not that I like being sick otherwise, but somehow it seems more of an affront when I feel yucky and the rest of the world doesn't.
When I'm sick I like to have Earl Grey tea and toast, but we are out of Earl Grey and regular bread. So I had cheap Ralph's brand tea, and oatmeal. It's not the same.
Another annoying thing about being sick is daytime TV. It's awful. For example, right now I am half-watching Speed 2: Cruise Control. It's way worse than the first one, but then again, sequels usually are. (Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason more than bears out my theory. So do every single one of the Jaws followups.) Speed 2 features Jason Patric, who was in Lost Boys back in the 80s, playing a tortured-lover-turned-vampire, which for some reason I found oddly attractive. I'm not sure what he's playing in Speed 2, because I can't really be bothered to pay that much attention. I can't believe I'm about to say what I'm about to say, but...I kind of wish they'd kept Keanu Reeves. Now please excuse me while I go wash my mouth out with soap.
Ok, I'm back now.
Thinking about daytime TV reminds me of this one series that always seemed to be on when I was a kid and stayed home sick from school. This is way back in the day, I mean I'm talking like fifth or sixth grade. It was a made-for-TV miniseries called V. Does anyone else remember this show? It's all about aliens who come to earth, and they look just like us, and they are very friendly, so everyone makes friends with them. Everything is cool until some pedantic do-gooder discovers that, in fact, the aliens are big lizards masquerading as people, and they are secretly eating humans, or something. And then he feels compelled to do something about it, like warn everyone, but of course very few people believe his rants and raves, so lots of people die, and chaos ensues, but in the end he gets to be a hero, and some of the lizards turn out to be quite nice and marry some of the humans they've fallen in love with.
You know, TV is really, really lame.
When I'm sick I like to have Earl Grey tea and toast, but we are out of Earl Grey and regular bread. So I had cheap Ralph's brand tea, and oatmeal. It's not the same.
Another annoying thing about being sick is daytime TV. It's awful. For example, right now I am half-watching Speed 2: Cruise Control. It's way worse than the first one, but then again, sequels usually are. (Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason more than bears out my theory. So do every single one of the Jaws followups.) Speed 2 features Jason Patric, who was in Lost Boys back in the 80s, playing a tortured-lover-turned-vampire, which for some reason I found oddly attractive. I'm not sure what he's playing in Speed 2, because I can't really be bothered to pay that much attention. I can't believe I'm about to say what I'm about to say, but...I kind of wish they'd kept Keanu Reeves. Now please excuse me while I go wash my mouth out with soap.
Ok, I'm back now.
Thinking about daytime TV reminds me of this one series that always seemed to be on when I was a kid and stayed home sick from school. This is way back in the day, I mean I'm talking like fifth or sixth grade. It was a made-for-TV miniseries called V. Does anyone else remember this show? It's all about aliens who come to earth, and they look just like us, and they are very friendly, so everyone makes friends with them. Everything is cool until some pedantic do-gooder discovers that, in fact, the aliens are big lizards masquerading as people, and they are secretly eating humans, or something. And then he feels compelled to do something about it, like warn everyone, but of course very few people believe his rants and raves, so lots of people die, and chaos ensues, but in the end he gets to be a hero, and some of the lizards turn out to be quite nice and marry some of the humans they've fallen in love with.
You know, TV is really, really lame.
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