The Vespa Diaries

WELCOME TO THE NEW FASCISM

2006-03-03T10:03:00.000-08:00

from Lewis Lapham's essay, in the current issue of Harper's Review:

We have before us in the White House a thief who steals the country's good name and reputation for his private interest and personal use; a liar who seeks to instill in the American people a state of fear; a televangelist who engages the United States in a never-ending crusade against all the world's evil, a wastrel who squanders a vast sum of the nation's wealth on what turns out to be a recruiting drive certain to multiply the host of our enemies. In a word, a criminal—known to be armed and shown to be dangerous.

Neo-medieval

2006-02-06T17:29:00.000-08:00

Here, from Choire Sicha's op-ed piece:

"..... what about a passing thought to the craziness of other people? When
what so many people believe is by any rational standard crazy—that depicting
human beings is a major sin, or that you’ll go to a fiery pit if you don’t get
sprinkled with water, or that witches float, or that bad thoughts are caused by
an infestation of pissed-off alien spirits, or, you know, that your spiritual
leader was reincarnated in some infant in Seattle—well, why should anyone give
two shits about any of it? For unbelievers, the world is a hell of
warmed-over medieval superstitions. "

Saturday I learned that my hairstylist believes in guardian angels. On Sunday, I met a lady who believes cats can heal you with their purrs. ("Take two kittens and call me in the morning!").

untitled

2006-01-30T16:39:00.000-08:00

Just go read this. It's my very favorite blog, even though, like my subscription to Harper's, reading it makes me really mad. Thankfully Twisty is also hilarious and one of the best writers on the internet.

How are we going to stop the coming Fascism?

trying to catch up

2006-01-10T16:40:00.000-08:00

Now that I have your attention, I will surely disappoint you by saying that I really don't have time to do a real entry. Many interesting things have happened since I last stopped in to drivel at you. I met a motorcycle delivery woman which was pretty awesome (mad mad lanesplitting skillz). I met the son of late actor Anthony Quinn, Francesco Quinn, who owns way too many Vespas and is very warm and personable. What else? Everything, nothing...

In return for your indulgence here I give you the following links: First, go read this story on nytimes.com (sorry that you have to register but it's free):

"...the I.R.S. devoted vastly more resources to pursing questionable refunds by the poor, which she said cannot involve more than $9 billion, than to a $100 billion problem with unreported incomes from small businesses that deal only in cash, many of which do not even file tax returns."

Even a repugnant Republican is concerned:

Senator Charles E. Grassley, the Iowa Republican who is chairman of the Senate Finance Committee, said he was troubled that taxpayers were not told that their refunds had been frozen.
"The taxpayer advocate's report raises serious questions about the I.R.S. criminal investigation division's freezing taxpayers' refunds," the senator said.
"We've seen a significant increase in refund abuse in recent years," he said. "However, I'm concerned by the advocate's findings that thousands and thousands of taxpayers are having their refunds frozen by the criminal investigation division, yet the taxpayers often do not know their refund has been frozen and can't effectively challenge the IRS' actions."

Secondly, and more importantly, hurry now and revel in the fabulousness that is TwistyFaster's 'I Blame the Patriarchy'. Makes ya mad but makes ya laff too. This is my new favorite blog.

Just a quick one

2005-11-30T17:58:00.000-08:00

I have oh so many other things to blog at you about, but I only gots time for this quick thing. I got this email see...

From: Female DBA from upstairs
Sent: Wednesday, November 30, 2005 5:08 PM
To: Me
Subject: pink stone

Found pretty pink stone in the ladies room, probably from an earring. Can you email the ladies and ask?

Thanks,
Female DBA from upstairs.

Here's my reply:

From: Me
Sent: Wednesday, November 30, 2005 5:45 PM
To: Female DBA from upstairs
Subject: RE: pink stone

Why don't you post a sign? I don't really have time to determine who the "ladies" are and send them an email.

Monday reporting

2005-11-28T14:09:00.000-08:00

Traffic was not as light as one might have preferred, but it had a pleasing, flowing quality all the way to the office. All the roads seemed smoother than average too. I’m not sure what to attribute this to. Maybe all the extra sleep I got during the four-day weekend?

In other news, I'm really annoyed that I am still not able to upload directly to my buzznet page from my cell phone. I can send pictures to other email addresses, but they ain't working at buzznet. Since last Thursday. I guess all their tech people are still on holiday. I don't begrudge them at all, but it's quite strange that I should be unable to post from my phone for so long. Each time I re-test it, too, I get pinged against my pix messaging account.

Coffee Walking

2005-11-28T14:03:00.000-08:00

Friday, B and I spent three hours walking around the fashion district so I could gather supplies for my foray into sewing for sales. AND he helped me find the right walking (even-feed) foot for my machine.

On Saturday, we went in search of coffee for brewing at home. B, ever the astute researcher, found Groundwork in the Arts District. On the way there we passed through the Little Tokyo Farmers Market. At a bit after 10 am the market was pretty deserted. They definitely did not have enough critical mass of either vendors or shoppers to sustain any kind of regular market. I felt a little sad for them. B said he’d overheard someone there saying “maybe we’ll just go dark.” If I were a less lazy blogger I’d find some link for you on this topic. Oh well, you know how to search as well as I do.

On our way to the Groundwork café we passed by a small restaurant offering Mexican fare. We ignored the obvious indicator (empty dining area) and decided to try it for brunch. Friday, B and I spent three hours walking around the fashion district so I could gather supplies for my foray into sewing for sales. AND he helped me find the right walking (even-feed) foot for my machine. On Saturday, we went in search of coffee for brewing at home. B, ever the astute researcher, found Groundwork in the Arts District. On the way there we passed through the Little Tokyo Farmers Market. At a bit after 10 am the market was pretty deserted. They definitely did not have enough critical mass of either vendors or shoppers to sustain any kind of regular market. I felt a little sad for them. B said he’d overheard someone there saying “maybe we’ll just go dark.” If I were a less lazy blogger I’d find some link for you on this topic. Oh well, you know how to search as well as I do.

On our way to the Groundwork café we passed by a small restaurant offering Mexican fare. We ignored the obvious indicator (empty dining area) and decided to try it for brunch. Ay!Carumba was one of the worst dining experiences I have had in recent memory. For starters, the waiter, a guy who could out-white Frasier Crane’s brother, didn’t know what a “café con leche” was. “What number on the menu is that?” he asked. I thought there might be hope since they serve the coffee in a French press. But alas! It was awful. The coffee made up in bitterness what their salsa lacked in flavor. Was it watered down V8? Finally, they mixed up our side of potatoes – B had ordered the standard – with chorizo – and I had ordered without chorizo. The waiter informed us of the mix up as he delivered the plates and chalked it up to a “language barrier” problem. As our friend K. pointed out later, “No chorizo” in Spanish is “No chorizo.” Next time we'll try eating at the coffee place instead. was one of the worst dining experiences I have had in recent memory. For starters, the waiter, a guy who could out-white Frasier Crane’s brother, didn’t know what a “café con leche” was. “What number on the menu is that?” he asked. I thought there might be hope since they serve the coffee in a French press. But alas! It was awful. The coffee made up in bitterness what their salsa lacked in flavor. Was it watered down V8? Finally, they mixed up our side of potatoes – B had ordered the standard – with chorizo – and I had ordered without chorizo. The waiter informed us of the mix up as he delivered the plates and chalked it up to a “language barrier” problem. As our friend K. pointed out later, “No chorizo” in Spanish is “No chorizo.”

Next time we'll try eating at the coffee place instead.

Thanksgiving

2005-11-28T13:51:00.000-08:00

Thursday was excellent and ranks very highly on the scale of Thanksgivings I have had. The food at B’s parents was delicious. I loved the side dishes and, face it people, Thanksgiving is about the side dishes! Admittedly I could have eaten more stuffing – but hey, since B’s brother regards most vegetables as suspect, I helped myself freely to Brussels sprouts and yummy sweet potatoes. And yay for that cranberry sauce, mmm. I didn’t even miss the canned stuff, my guilty pleasure.

We also had fun with B's stereo microscope, to look at my ring. I was aghast at how dirty it had gotten in one week! Ultrasonic cleaner to the rescue! We also examined a potato chip with giant pools of grease, B's brother's adorable dachsund's paw, and our disgusting cuticles.

Just before dinner, B’s sister had orchestrated a simultaneous champagne toast between our party in Southern California and her party with her husband and in-laws in Northern California. She wanted to give us a toast in honor of our engagement - a sweet and fun idea! For this and many other things, I feel sincerely welcomed by the family.

Maintenance

2005-11-28T13:42:00.000-08:00

Last week was a bit hectic in the days running up to the holiday. Tuesday night I spent a long time with my ever-affable Vespa mechanic. I got oil change & filter, new variator rollers, new belt, rear brake adjustment, front brake pads, front tire. I really, really needed new pads. If you look on my buzznet page you will see just how low they were. The new (stock) rollers make quite a difference; the old set were Malossi and were worn down, causing accelerations in the lower speeds a bit rough. Now it’s creamy smooth and a pleasure. And the knocking I thought I heard on Wednesday seems to have corrected itself.

After work on Wednesday I had a relatively short - only 2 and a half hours! - hair appointment with Julio at Estilo. He’s working on getting a website together with the help of a family member. I love the name: shampoolio.com. Maybe one of these days he'll get a computer and will be able to receive emails. Julio is sooo analog.

Sartre's Famous Deli

2005-11-23T14:18:00.000-08:00

I could not get out of the mall. No, really, I couldn’t get out of the parking structure. No, really, I couldn’t physically exit the mall.

I took a ticket upon entering this time, remembering how the last time when I didn’t take a ticket I had a very difficult time trying to wiggle myself and the scooter around the end of the barrier.

I shopped. I got excellent customer service at Sephora (A woman named Flower is a color expert and I recommend you seek her out next time you shop for concealer). (And don't you love the samples??) Then I took to depart.

In the approach to the exit gates I noticed they had changed the older ticket readers for smaller machines, and there were no attendants anymore. I inserted my ticket in the prescribed manner, magnetic stripe down and to the right, just like in the picture. The machine, in its machine-like obstinacy, refused to consume it. I insisted. Again it refused. The machine must be defective, I thought, and backed up to try the other ticket-taking barrier-raising machine. Like its imperturbable twin, I was denied.

A blue help button hailed a sarcastic male voice remotely instructing me to put the ticket in again. As I expected, it wouldn’t go in. He had to send someone. I waited on my idling bike and tried to keep people from lining up behind me by waving them to the other machine. I eyed the barrier again to see if I couldn’t possibly squeeze around or under it. Back in the day before they began renovating, I could go around the bar, but now, they made it lower and lengthened it so it extended past the curb. I was trapped.

Finally a parking attendant showed up. He asked me if I had told the guy on the call box if I had told him I was on a scooter. I said no, he didn’t ask me. Then he pointed out the sensor lines in the asphalt. My bike didn’t trigger the sensor – the sensor which makes the machine accept the tickets. (Why don’t they just make the machine taste the ticket like others of its kind? Why a pavement sensor for this?) Then he told me that they didn’t allow motorcycle parking there anyway.

I asked him for the name of someone to speak to about this. He couldn’t remember the guy’s phone number. He told me his name but I all retained was some Griswold or something. Finally back at my desk, late and inconvenienced, I tried tracking someone down in the mall management office. Why would they purposely exclude an entire class of shoppers from shopping at their mall?? There is no place to park in the area, other than their structure if you want to shop there. After a little web search, I told my tale to Vivian in their management office. She would research the issue and call me back on Monday. I'm interested in hearing their reasoning. If I don’t like the answer I get, be assured I’ll be sending a letter to the U.S. corporate offices, conveniently located in L.A.

Miscellany

2005-11-22T16:55:00.000-08:00

I was reading the comments over at Commuter Steve's MotorScooter Diary. A number of other scooterists report having a hard time with the driving part of the motorcycle exam. I admit was tough, but I hadn't practiced much and managed to pass. I wonder if the cone layout was different? The cones were spaced amazingly close together, true. Wow, I've had my M1 license now for almost a year. What is interesting is that even though I've been riding pretty much every weekday since June '04, I still felt an improvement in my skills since my commute got longer. More riding = more practice = better skills.

One of the things new riders should really practice is countersteering. It's really hard to explain. It's almost like a dance move - you know you've got it when you've got it. I also believe strongly in the importance of continually scanning ahead a few blocks to anticipate traffic hairballs. The Vespa is so fantastic because you sit upright and even someone who is on the short side can easily see above the average car or through the windshield of many SUVs. Posture, people!

On 11/10 I sent in my response to an sort of "interview" with the Vespa corporate blog, Vespaquest. As of today I have not received a response. Updates as they come in.

Update 11/30: the thing I wrote is now up. I hope it is not too lame! Thanks, Justene at Vespaquest!

NOW it is Thursday.

2005-11-17T09:26:00.000-08:00

Last night I was convinced it was a Thursday, the well-known and established WORST day of the week for the evening commute in Los Angeles. I had to do hardcore lanesplitting the entire way home. Usually ya get a break somewhere along the way, but not last night! (Silly me, I hadn't checked the events calendar for the Sporting Arena (bleh) before leaving the office. Oh yes, now I see, there was a lakers v. knicks game. Crap.) An hour after leaving my office I was finaly home, hands still vibrating. My sweet darling boyfriend administered an icy cold martini and the filler episode of "Lost" and my sanity gradually returned.

This morning I took the 7th street option and, again, rode past the lake in MacArthur Park. Let me tell you: it stinks. I'm not sure I can describe it. It's essence de swamp. I wondered if I should call the city. Somebody should look into it. Maybe we can harvest new medicines from whatever the biological source is.

And last but not least, something lovely happened this morning on my commute. I was moving between two lanes of stopped vehicles somewhere before Commodore Sloat Street, when I was blocked by a pair of SUVs who were a little too close for me to get through. I stopped, content to wait a couple of cars back from the stoplight. Just then the woman at the wheel of the SUV on my right reached out of her window and folded in her driver's side mirror, allowing me to pass by. I thanked her and smiled and she smiled warmly back. The small, unexpected courtesy of a stranger can make you forget - for a moment - the frustrations of hell-ay traffic.

Girl! You so crazay...

2005-11-16T14:30:00.000-08:00

That's what Doris the Operator here at work would say. And no one says it better.

Sorry for my absence, people (or more likely, "person"). To cheer you up, please check out one of my absolute favorite bloggers. The topmost entry is brief but totally sui generis.

More later.

O what a beautiful morning

2005-11-11T09:23:00.000-08:00

Viva Veteran's Day! I made such good time getting to work this morning, despite stopping to fill up the tank (a whopping $5.87 at $3.09 a gallon; oops, I let it get a little low, didn't I?) and adding some air to the tires. The sky was gloriously unblotted by clouds or rain, which left fresh clean air in their wake. Traffic flowed freely on Olympic allowing me to reach Century City from around MacArthur Park in approximately fifteen minutes. Unbelievable.

Contrast this with Wednesday morning. It was pouring down rain (still do not have a faceshield wiper for my glove), and to top it off the nut holding down my left mirror had wiggled loose. I had to deal with a floppy left "antenna" the whole way to work. I was, however, quite pleased with my outerwear. I had borrowed my boyfriend's supergigantic, waterproof parka in the brightest flourescent orange nature never produced. I looked like a fireball on two wheels. If drivers didn't see me coming, they musta been BLIND.

Which, in L.A., is not inconceivable.

p.s. thanks to scootla.com for the linkage and all the info on oil changing.

holiday?

2005-11-07T19:50:00.000-08:00

i'm wondering if today was some kind of holiday. maybe the schools were closed. traffic was unbelievably light. Thirty minutes road time. I know it won't be like that every day, but it was rather fun... no major gaffes on the road to report tonight.

i was also pleased with the temperature - a tad humid, but perfectly comfortable for riding. i hope that it's not raining tomorrow. now, why do i not have the little glove mounted wiper blade thingy yet?

tomorrow's voting day. i like voting. at least i don't live in ohio!

Friday morning

2005-11-04T09:41:00.000-08:00

No major idiocy on the roads to report today. 35 minutes on the bike this morning, traffic fairly light and freeflowing (at least up to Robertson Bl.)

Looks like the city is finally going to repair the Pothole of Death in the westbound number two on Olympic, between La Jolla and La Cienega. They have the section marked off in white paint, demarcating chunks of all three westbound lanes. I hope they do a better job fixing it this time.

Meanwhile, I checked out Amy Alkon's blog this morning, as I do every morning. Pretty much every day she finds something politically or socially meaningful to post. Go check out today's entry about the riots raging for the last week in the suburbs of Paris. The letter she reproduces from a friend of hers living there is especially bleak, but realistic too. "With these people, there is no talk possible, no common grounds, only escalation of the hatred & killing of the Infidel. It is going to be a bloody war of religion. And yes, it is going to be WWIII."

Driving disasters

2005-11-03T10:37:00.000-08:00

Hi again.

With the new commute, I have so many more opportunities to witness L.A. driving behavior. I thought I might use this space to document what I encounter on a daily basis. (Note: I'm not saying I'll be writing here on a daily basis. Let's not go crazy or nothin').

This morning I saw a woman in an suv headed westbound on Olympic inexplicably come to a full stop at a green light.

Seconds later, I witnessed a driver making a LEFT TURN on a RED. No, neither of the streets were unidirectional. He was trying to go left onto Olympic Bl. in full morning rush hour traffic.

My personal favorite for today was the lady who made a left in front of me. No checking for oncoming traffic, obviously. I had to brake hard and swerve to avoid her. She was totally oblivious. She was pulling into the Rite-Aid so maybe she missed a dose of medication.

I saw a bright fucking red honda this morning, and I recalled that a certain percentage of the population is red/green color blind. So for those people, a bright fucking red car may look dull grey. According to this site, a full 7 percent of the male population have this type of color blindness.

Stall note

2005-06-10T16:59:00.000-07:00

Ladies:

Normally I do not support the posting of these notes on the inside of the bathroom stalls. Those who place them seem to view us Ladies as nothing more that recalcitrant 3rd graders.

But a recent experience has prompted me to such extremes.

I would be ever so grateful if, in future, you were to place your derrière ON the toilet like a normal person. When you attempt to HOVER, you inevitably spray urine all over the bathroom seat. Then when the next person comes in to the stall and — in the rather dim lighting such as we have in our restroom — places her pristine hiney directly upon the seat, she is treated to a rather unpleasant surprise.

I am certain you are aware that Modern Life has brought us the convenient hygiene of many forms; among them you have the flushable paper rings placed between your seat and the one attached to the toilet basin. Please avail yourself of these, rather than leaving a mess for the next lady. Or, if you are so intent upon hovering (perhaps to strengthen your quads, I don’t know) might I suggest giving a quick backward glance to see that you have not left something untoward for your coworker to mop up with her own behind?

Thank you for reading and may you enjoy the rest of your day.

Long boring story. No - really.

2005-02-25T08:32:00.000-08:00

I had to be somewhere reeeellly early this morning. It was so early that when I hit the boulevard the moon in its fullness was still suspended over the buildings of the Wilshire Corridor. The air was refreshing and helped wake me up a bit. Even if I had slept normally I’d be groggy at this hour. But no, I’d slogged it out with Morpheus since roughly half-past two o’clunk this morning, and thus was in dire need of refreshment.

Because I was so groggy I guess, or maybe because the moon was full and still up, I decided to take a different route to my destination. Maybe also I didn’t want to drive past work more times than necessary per day. I took a street I thought was the right one and proceeded to miss my turn.

There are parts of this city that are designed to lose you. It’s no help either that the founders or whomever ran out of street names at some point in the process and started to recycle them. Beverly, for instance. Beverly Glen, Beverly, Beverly Green. Does Beverwil count? Also, there’s a Spalding and a Spaulding. La Jolla disappears at one point and picks up again about a mile to the northeast. There’s a 7th Street downtown, but somewhere on the way out west it gets confused with Wilshire. (Wait, where am I? I forgot where this was going).

I ended up getting lost in Beverlywood which - and you may not know this - constitutes its own little incorporated community within western Los Angeles. Its founders obviously meant it to be a labyrinth, since none of its streets follows a straight path. While completely charming in normal circumstances, this design choice made it hard to find my way back to any familiar main road (like Beverly) where I hoped to determine just how far off course I’d gone.

Along the way to finding my way out, I remembered how nice it was to be up early and how great it is to get lost in the town you’ve lived in for years. And in the end I wasn’t even late.

Anyway, it’s eight-thirty a.m. and I need a nap.

P.S. I saw a kitty cat that had been hit by a car. I really wish people would not allow their cats to roam the urban lands.

Dog Door to Hell

2005-02-24T18:55:00.000-08:00

Returning from the pool last night after dark, I barely escaped the gaping maw of a dog-door to hell: a pothole just the right size for your average Cerberus to wiggle back down the pit to its Dark Master. A split-second reaction saved me. Had I not seen it in time I would have been sent ass-over-helmet into pavement, to say nothing of the damage to my scooter after a mishap like that. And, yes, we have the recent downpours to thank for this street-gap.

Earlier, at sunset, I was stopped at a very long red on Pico. I whiled away the hours by taking in the lovely sky, the first blue in such a long time. The sky was dappled with lovely fluffies picking up the dangling final rays of daylight. I noticed, poised silently above me, a couple of pink-tinged clouds.

They were in the exact shape of two unpeeled, cooked prawns.

damp

2005-02-22T21:17:00.000-08:00

make it stop. please.

dance

2005-01-21T18:43:00.000-08:00

Traffic report: light until La Jolla, where it starts getting hairball. Correct your posture: imagine a thread pulling the top of your spine up to the sky. Elbows bent gently and relaxed. This is where the dancing comes in. Imagine your ballet teacher. Glide in two-three time between the left and middle columns of brake lights. Avoid all mirrors. Direct hateful thoughts of those who crowd towards the broken white line. It’s a minuet up to the red light at Fairfax.

Thus begins the weekend.

Tell me I can't carry it.

2005-01-13T22:43:00.000-08:00

Went to Target tonight on the scooter. Just because I think you will be impressed, here is the list of items I acquired and successfully transported home on the Vespa:

• A two pack of Bounty (Select-a-Size, natch)
• A set of queen sized jersey sheets
• Two standard pillows
• A pair of gloves (30% off!)
• One brown belt
• A two-pack of contact solution
• A plastic tub of moisty wipes
• One container of Tree Hut Shea Butter body crème
• Target brand pseudephredine (two boxes)
• Some hand lotion
• A replacement tap water filter
• Quart size Ziplocs
• Gallon size Ziplocs
• Something that just says “Target Brand” and I have no memory of what it is.

Heh. Ingenuity. Spatial relations.

Hey lady!

2005-01-12T18:50:00.000-08:00

I love it.

Olympic was backed up. Completely. I descended the on-ramp off Ave of the Stars to find cars unable to merge into the clogged traffic on eastbound Olympic. I’m sure it was nose-to-asshole all the way back to the 405.

Circumnavigating the cars on the ramp, I glided between the lanes, down past Century Park East, moving gently between too many SUVs. I hate them. Their mirrors are higher than car mirrors and, while I make every effort to avoid touching them with my mirrors, it happens on occasion. As I made my way carefully, my right mirror happened to click against the left side mirror of some stupid white SUV.

Behind me, a voice - sounding a hell of a lot like Mickey Rooney - yelled out, “Hey lady! Watch what you’re doing!” Since I was moving slowly, I stopped, turned and replied coquettishly, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” Clutching his cell phone (of course!) to his right ear with his head out the window, he barked, “Don’t hit my car with that thing!”

That was the BEST. Hah.

“Come up here and tell me about it, buddy!” I replied. Then I turned, and continued threading my way through the miles of backup. The traffic was bumper to bumper all the way home. All the way up Olympic to La Cienega and San Vicente. Good luck catching up with me, SUV dude. You SUCK.

FEAR

2005-01-04T21:17:00.000-08:00

AREN’T YOU AFRAID

Where does your fear reside?

Is it vulnerability? Is it a fear of dismemberment? A fear of death?

What I fear is fear of not living. After so many years I have determined that the greatest loss is the loss of living, and not the loss of life. I am lucky to be born in the richest nation on the planet, even if I am not rich. We have everything at hand, everything at our disposal, and yet… so many of us remain trapped in our fears. When people learn I commute my mere six miles on a Vespa in Los Angeles, they ask me, “aren’t you AFRAID?”

But, dear readers, dear ones, aren’t you afraid of not LIVING? Not afraid of dying. Of not LIVING every moment given to you? Afraid of not experiencing as much as you can grab? Biting the vascularity out of each moment, sucking the marrow from the bone, à la Whitman?

I realize I have lived this way forever. And while it is imperfect, this manner of experience has served to provide me with joyous life and love and cutting dreadful anguish. And, why live, if not to feel?

AREN’T YOU AFRAID?

Whatever

2005-01-04T21:00:00.000-08:00

Whatever. I started a blog months ago and now I never write. Typical.

It was brisk this evening riding home on the scooter. There was crazy rain in the morning but it all swept away long before the ride home was imminent. For some reason traffic remained light even after six o’clock.

I hate it when people don’t center their cars in their own lane, forcing me to wait behind. But it’s all feel on the Vespa, intuition leads you where you need to be. You see so much more up here. Riding higher than in a car, seeing through those stupid “sport” “utility” vehicles.

Pastorale

2005-01-04T13:51:00.000-08:00

Pastorale
Posted by: swayframe.

2004-11-07T16:20:00.000-08:00

At the maul - 11.06.04

photo by: swayframe

the manager of this store made me stop moblogging. Something about "company policy" because it's their first store anywhere. Ha ha ha.

2004-11-07T16:05:00.000-08:00

What "water shortage"?

photo by: swayframe

An employee cleans the pavement of the driveway to the studio with the hose, clearly a stupid use of our most precious and steadily dwindling resource, particularly in southern California. But that's Fox for ya! :D Weeee! Maybe they will start cleaning it with gasoline, since it will be so cheap once I-Rak gets pumping?

Anybody got a match?

Rain or shine

2004-11-07T15:34:00.000-08:00

I took “Latka”* and “Simka”* to T@rget this morning, kind of spur of the moment... Simka had never been before. I figured she would like to see what is available at such a store, and it’s an easy enough jaunt up the boulevard on the bus for them, being sans car. After we checked out, I led them outside to the rotunda area, to show them the other stores in the complex. We had our carts with us; I ignored the "no carts" sign on the inside of the exit doors, figuring we would just be a moment. They wanted to enjoy a smoke before heading home.

Then we realized there was a ‘no-smoking’ sign - OUTSIDE. Out of deference to this directive, they moved over to the ashtray stationed near an elevator. I'm sure they figured that since there's an ashtray, they should be allowed to smoke there, at least. Seems reasonable to me, but no - with startling efficiency and speed, TWO security guards descended on us from opposite directions to make sure they were putting out the cigarettes they had just lit, and then, to prevent us from taking our carts in THAT particular elevator. Silently I thanked the lordjesushchrist they were there to protect us from our own impending lurch into TOTAL ANARCHY. Phew! A close one!

We left and I ranted about people in this country rushing to conform, in the name of “fighting the terrorists.” Everyone is so ready to hand over their personal freedoms to “fight the terrorists.” Soon they’ll be making us wear burqas and denying us drivers licenses.

The rain stopped for the most part, and the clouds parted revealing a placid sun. I rode my Vespa to work, left a bit late, but still made it on time. 6.8 miles in under 20 minutes. Including parking. Aaaah.

*Names changed to protect the identities of the innocent. I’ve chosen to adopt the character names from one of the best tv sitcoms ever, “Taxi”. Thanks to the Monkey for suggesting these pseudonyms.