30 June 2004
TV and Camels
I've had cable for about a month now, after a four-year break. It's already eatings my brains. Last night I stayed up late to watch reruns of Chappelle's Show. It's a brilliantly funny show, but is any funny show worth losing sleep for? I don't think I can handle cable. It's like crack cocaine.
Tonight I pedalled Magma Lou to the Clay Theater, then realized I'd forgotten my u-lock. There wasn't time to bike home and back again before the movie. The Euroboy in the ticket booth wasn't authorized to give me permission to stash my bike in the lobby. The manager, Jeff, also couldn't allow it. "But I can lock your bike to mine," he said, and gestured toward a parking meter propping up a well-used racing bike. He was cute and he'd obviously still be there after the movie, so our two bikes made a parking-meter sandwich with his u-lock. It was perfectly adorable.
See, movies like this one make cable television seem pretty dum. The Story of The Weeping Camel is elegant and enlightening. We watch a Mongolian family going about their business: drawing water from the well; brewing tea; washing small, grubby children; making offerings of milk to the spirits; and tending many sheep, goats, and camels. It's spring in the Gobi desert and their camp is overflowing with baby animals.
One of the camels has roundly rejected her colt. The struggle to unite them preoccupies the whole family. Ultimately, two of the boys ride to a distant town to summon a violinist for help. That's what any of us would do, right? I learned some things from this movie:
- Camels make really weird noises.
- You can make just about anything out of camel hair.
- Mongolians are susceptible to the allure of television, just like me.
- A television costs about 20 or 30 sheep.
- To activate the maternal instinct of a cranky camel, play the violin and sing to her.
- Camels weep constantly, because their eyes get dusty. But they weep even more for beautiful music.
Also, it seems that camels make fun pets! Suddenly I'm a huge camel fan.
25 June 2004
Summer Is For Bikes!
A clot of bicycles begins to form in Justin Herman Plaza around 5:30pm on the last Friday of the month. Bikes lie against trees and trash bins while their riders loll on the plaza steps. A handful at a time, more bikes coast lazily into the plaza. A few BMX bikes dance and leap as their riders show off their stunts. A press photographer documents the scene from a cherry picker as tall as the palm trees. I ride up as the Ferry Building clock tower strikes 6.
The ride will start whenever we reach critical mass—in this case, that's the point when people begin ringing their bells, wooping, and easing their bikes onto Market Street. But right now, something's still missing....
At 6:20, the party starts: the guy with the awesome sound-system pedals into the plaza, blasting AC/DC's "Thunderstruck". A cheer goes up. This guy's bike is a homegrown marvel: it sports a cargo trailer carrying an amplifier, two hefty speakers, and a large subwoofer. A cable connects the rig to a set of controls on his handlebars. He parks his bike, engages a heavy-duty kickstand, and manipulates the controls. The music switches from metal to discofunk, and people start dancing—some on their feet, some on two wheels.
"Let's go!"
"Let's ride!"
"WOOOOT!" No cue has been given, no starting gun has gone off, but suddenly we collectively agree to begin.
Hundreds of bikes stream onto Market Street, forming a friendly, slow-moving traffic wedge. Cars and buses can't get around us, but we try to reward their patience with smiles, ding-a-ling bells, and disco music. More experienced riders "cork" traffic by interposing their bikes and bodies between us and any impatient drivers, gently assuring them that we'll be out of their way in a moment and that we don't want anyone to get hurt.
At the first sign of police, we turn off of Market and head toward Union Square, taking two laps around it as astonished tourists pull out their cameras and ask what's going on. "It's Critical Mass!" We ring our bells at them and heading into the Stockon Tunnel, where Magma Lou's automatic dynamo lights kick on. We emerge in Chinatown, where the residents have little objection to a throng of bikes. Left on Broadway and we're in another tunnel, wooping as our mobile stereo plays "Jungle Boogie". Its rider picks his ass up off the saddle and dances on his pedals. Left on Van Ness, and after a brief but strenuous climb, it's all downhill.
I remember I have a letter in my basket, spot a postbox, and glide up to it. I pause to watch the magnificent, flowing herd. It instinctively turns toward Valencia Street, but I point Magma Lou uphill toward home. Later, enjoying a refreshing glass on water at my back door, I hear them on Haight Street; you can't mistake that festive cheering and bell-ringing for anything but Critical Mass.
24 June 2004
Opinions About Some Movies
My silly little blog was beginning to feel neglected, so here are some opinions about some movies I've recently seen:
- Addio Zio Tom (Goodbye Uncle Tom)
This movie could never have been made in America. It's pretty odd to watch Italians dramatizing the enslavement and degradation of blacks in America, with English subtitles. This movie is painfully frank about the horrific atrocities committed against blacks in America. The title refers to the death of Martin Luther King Jr., whom the Black Panthers considered an "Uncle Tom".
- Suicide Club
What is wrong with the Japanese? I've never seen such spectacularly deranged cinema from anywhere else, and I watch a lot of foreign cinema. This one features competitive suicide, a ribbon made from 200 pieces of human skin, mutilated bodies still twitching and gurgling, and of course many gallons of gushing, oozing, aerosol-misting blood. Not as violently effed-up as some of Takashi Miike's stuff, but still a white-knuckle ride. And two-thirds through the movie, there's a musical number.
- The Chronicles of Riddick
Boring! I was composing my grocery shopping list during this. Who conned me into seeing this wretched movie? Days later I realized this was the sequel to Pitch Black, another movie so lame that I had actively forgotten I'd ever seen it. I'm actively forgetting this one, too.
- The Stepford Wives
This was exactly what I expected it to be: a fun little bit of fluff. Haven't seen the original. Looks like Ferris Bueller has been spending time in the gym!
- Party Monster
That Macauley Culkin sure is growing up good. I hope he stays in the business.
In other movie-related news, my perl Greencine plugin for Movable Type has mysteriously stopped working. Who wants to volunteer to be my perl repair droid?
5 June 2004
Paphiopedilum
My favorite orchid is blooming again! It's one of those pornographic-looking flowers, a single hefty blossom shamelessly exhibiting its glistening stamen, fat pouch, and sticky little hairs. How rude! But I like the rude flowers the best: they're not embarassed about their private parts, and you can stare at them all you like. Stare long enough, and you wonder why you're ever embarassed about your own private parts!
5 June 2004
In The 'Hood
I walked around the corner to go to Walgreen's so I could buy some things:
- bleach
- envelopes
- picture frames
But the whole block of Haight Street between Fillmore and Webster was cordoned off and filled with cops. Some were uniformed beat cops, but most were men in suits and clean, unmarked sedans. Most of the businesses had their doors open, but no one was allowed to approach.
An officer from the DPT was guarding the "POLICE LINE - DO NOT CROSS" tape at one end of the block. "Fatality," he explained. "Another shooting." There have been three others within a mile of my house in the last 90 days, not counting fatal shootings by cops. One of them occurred last month on this same block of Haight.
I realized I had heard the shots, six or seven of them. I'm used to thinking, "Huh, were those gunshots I just heard?" and applying a quick test:
- Am I in the wilderness?
If so, the answer is almost always, "Yes, those were gunshots." It's only a problem if you also hear screaming, crying, or bullets whizzing past your ears. Otherwise, gunshots are routine. No big deal.
- Am I in the city?
It's usually just a car backfiring, or firecrackers, or heavy construction work. If it's not, I assume I'll hear some screaming, crying, or special serious-sounding sirens.
A couple of hours ago, when I thought I heard the shots, I turned off my music and stood at the open back door, listening. Nobody was screaming or crying. Nothing seemed to be happening. And if there were any sirens, I've learned to tune them out as part of the ambient urban soundscape. Now I hear them, sirens every five minutes or so....
By the way, for an excellent blog read, I recommend Strip Mining for Whimsy. It happens that yesterday he wrote a similarly-themed entry.
1 June 2004
Television Is The Devil
I haven't had cable TV in about four years. The last time, I abandoned it in disgust; I couldn't justify spending $50 or $60 on bad television. I think that DVDs provide more worthwhile entertainment for my dollar, and some of the over-the-air channels are useful, like PBS and Deutsche Welle.
But the top American TV network, NBC, has had no over-the-air broadcast in SF proper for a couple of years. This has become a frustrating problem: in the gayest city in the US, you can't watch the gayest sitcom in the US without paying for cable. This is good for SF's cable provider, Comcast.
I can live without NBC. I sometimes miss Saturday Night Live (I think the ladies in the current cast are a riot), and I kinda wish I hadn't missed the final season of Friends (so sue me), but whatever. Then came the final straw: KCSM lost the lease on its transmission tower. KCSM is a public TV station whose programming includes college telecourses in addition to the usual PBS fare. Tragedy!
Suddenly I felt that my selection of TV channels was inadequate. I caved, and ordered "basic cable". For only $15.82/month, I get perfect reception of 43 fairly lame channels. I get everything I had before plus KCSM, NBC, lots of public stations, and a bunch of other random stuff.
I might have done it sooner if I'd known such a cheap plan was available, but I'm already being reminded of why I ditched cable in the first place: Comcast's sales droids are pestering me to upgrade to "standard cable" at only $19.95 for the first three months—and $42.99/month after that. Yikes! That's too much to pay for TV. On the other hand, I'd sure like to watch The Daily Show and Queer Eye For The Straight Guy....