Bop Spotter

I love this project, the Bop Spotter! This is my neighborhood and I love its musical landscape.

Sometimes I add to it myself from a bluetooth speaker on my wheelchair, but more often I’m surreptitiously shazaming the music around me from others’ speakers, from cars, from businesses I’m going by on the sidewalk.

This is a cool use of a old/low end phone – hooking it up to a little solar panel on a utility pole. The web page shows the community’s culture to the community. It’s community data collection that’s positive, approachable, and fun. We are also invited to listen along on Apple Music or Spotify!

You could expand this project out in different ways, like log all the music, make it searchable, count the times we hear particular songs or artists, make it possible to, in the future, reconstruct the public musical soundscape of this corner!

It’s beautiful just as it is of course, but I get kind of excited about the archival aspect of communicating with the future!

People told me slow my roll

The song stuck in my head when I woke up this morning was Pursuit of Happiness by Kid Cudi. A brilliant song (and album! listen to it all at once in order) and I also love the dreamlike music video where he keeps getting up off a couch and falling through windows and doors. (There is a different “official” music video that is oddly boring and standard.)

People told me slow my roll
I’m screamin’ out, Fuck that!
Imma do just what I want
looking ahead no turning back!

– Brought to you by the couch where I have my feet up and my knee in a stabilizing wrap

I flew to DC for a summit at Gallaudet on disability, tech, and labor rights! Went to the Museum of African American History and Culture, and the Natural History Museum! It was a lovely trip & I met so many great people- and will write that experience up soon.

Back home again, I was not feeling up to even travelling across the bay, but did my talk for Common Tools via Zoom. Another great gathering where I met interesting people and learned some things.

Last night went to Writers with Drinks, the Banned Books edition, which was also great!

I *will* have to slow my roll any moment now but not yet, lord….

Bathtubs and books, hippies

I had a relaxing and luxurious bath this morning in our new clawfoot tub, which is blowing our minds after some years of only having a shower in the house. While I was in there I read a good way into a book someone left on our sidewalk bench, Polaroids from the Dead by Douglas Coupland. I liked the title and was curious what Mr. “Gen X” inventor had to say. (For accompaniment, I put on Lou Reed’s album Transformer.) So far, Polaroids strikes me as mostly accurate in mood and content. I moved to the Bay Area in 1990 so it was all very familiar. It did feel a little more like the late 80s but still, accurate.

Part of the mood that I enjoyed was that it conveyed our (us being people roughly of my age in 1991 or so) attitude towards hippies and the 70s, which was that they seemed to have had all the fun and excitement but that there was a little left for us; they would kindly sell us blotter acid, and we could still go see them in concert.

I thought less about California in the 90s while reading this book and more about Austin in the 80s. I lived in or hung out at various co-ops (and yes it was pretty much exactly like the movie Slacker which captured the vibe perfectly (ofc I knew half the people in there) in that it was possible to live on your part time minimum wage job and go to school and fuck around doing art and music or whatever. ) So tempting to keep nesting parentheses, but no.

Here’s me with a guy I briefly “dated” (if you can call it that) from Arrakis Co-op and then a little after I moved into 21st Street Co-op in late 1986 or early 1987. He was a Deadhead and very nice, and had cases and cases of taped Dead concerts carefully labelled & often with very lovely art and handwritten liner notes. (I remember being impressed with this and also with how he would diligently do all his engineering homework, then hit the bong with equal diligence afterward.) But my point is that hippie culture was not at all dead in 1987, or 1990. It was alive and kicking. I was so relieved that I hadn’t missed my chance after all to experience it.

two white young people, me in sleeveless crop top, guy with mullet in a Woodstock tshirt

There was a guy who would come by the Loud Suite (where I lived at first in 21st St) named Motorcycle Michael, who had long white guy dreads done up in a crocheted hat, drove a van, and always wore pretty much the same outfit made of that gorgeous oaxacan or guatemalan woven cloth and a tie died tshirt. He seemed to be the most obvious dealer hanging out there and I don’t think I bought anything from him (I did not need to ; see above photo of me; do you think I got free bong hits or??! It didn’t even occur to me, and besides, I had no money) It did not have any sort of creepy feel (Drug dealer or pusher hanging out with teenage students) but rather, a sort of benevolent uncle and friend vibe. (Trust me I have seen the creepy, gross, skeevy ones and know; or maybe i just am overly impressed with any older guy who was decent enough not to hit on me) Like, his life was bopping around between Mexico and all over Texas maybe, living in his van, hanging out with people who were pretty chill, listening to good music, being super generous with his time and energy, telling funny stories, helping people out, going to Dead concerts. He was part of the culture! I heard a while back through a co-op FB group that he died, and then I just looked him up again and found this interesting memoriam.

Pic below of Loud Suite life:

several young people sitting on dilapidated couches, looking happy

Lest you all think of me as a drug addled fool, I can reassure you I was not much into excess, was a complete lightweight, would cut blotter acid into quarters, etc. etc. (We won’t even talk about where the other drugs like X came from, *cough* *Rice chemistry students*) It was occasional! And social! I swear! Anyway, I still graduated and I appear to have a reasonable amount of brain cells left.

A more wholesome photo, of a bunch of us cooking in the industrial kitchen – I learned to cook here, and was dinner cook (for 100 people) and menu planner for many years. Here, Ethan, Paul Macafee, Karen, Mike LeFebre, and I are drinking Old Milwaukee and cooking dinner. Ok, mostly wholesome. I blame Paul for the cheap gross beer choice.

several young people gathered around a giant bowl of steaming food. they are drinking old milwaukee beers

ANYWAY. Because of prepping to go see The Way to Eden in Star Trek Live tonight we watched the original episode yesterday and laughed our asses off at the space hippie children! (Their drug use is implied only, but their vibe is impeccable!) Star Trek tried hard to come to grips with how the future might see hippies. Were they wrong?!

There were really lovely hippietastic moments I remember, like about 40 people from the co-op all tripping and going to see Koyaanisqatsi together. It was fine! We were a lovely social amoeba moving across the town and into the movie theater! The point was not the drugs so much as it was being gorgeously social and also experiencing and creating music and culture together!

I have forgotten my point. I have more to say about hippies, drugs, and the internet, which we all talked about at DWeb Camp and which I kind of go into in my long poem “Whole Earth Catalog”. But here, I think my point was that I have found it funny and a little sad sometimes to see people now worrying that they missed raves, or grunge, or riot grrrl, or zines, or whatever, and then I absolutely fucking love it when they realize they can JUST DO THOSE THINGS. Nothing is stopping you! You are in history, too! You can make an entire scene happen, and also, whatever else you are doing now, someone is going to look back on with fondness and longing, in some way that you are not even aware of as a Thing! You are in your own Thing right now!!!!!

So many shows!

I am trying to remember all the shows and concerts I’ve been to in the last couple of months, all of which I had resolved to blog about. Maybe I can go backwards in time a little and this is going to be a mix of punk shows and opera. It has been a fabulous summer of having TICKETS. (I LOVE TICKETS!!!)

cameron diaz saying TICKETS! I *LOVE * TICKETS

Last week was for opera as I went with my friend Lisa the music critic to a winery in Napa to see Abduction from the Seraglio, which was fluffy and kind of adorable in a beautiful setting. The two sopranos stood out to me the most (which must be common in amateur enjoyers of opera) as Brenda Rae awed me with her technical skills & I also just really dug Krista Pape’s voice which never, ever sounded strained. The guy singing Osmin also had a spectacular bit in the last act. I’m not very familiar with this operam but Lisa mentioned they cut some bits out for length. The other thing of note was that the singing was in German while the talking bits (not really recitative, just talking!) were translated to English. At intermission we met some adorable young people who liked my hair and the stickers on my powerchair. The one in the suit reminded me of young Annalee; she and her companion were both so cute and liked that I gave them stickers and zines. I think we may have also met one of their aunts (their “chaperone”).

We then stayed for a super fancy dinner and some great musicians. I realized we were surrounded by people who like, own entire wineries, which was a bit weird but interesting, and that everyone at our table was drinking tremendous amounts but was still coherent. I did taste some of every kind of wine offered (3 kinds through the various courses, plus port, plus another one) but could not actually drink all of it, or began to falter midway through glass 3. All of the wine was delicious. I was pretty tipsy on the way home!

Another opera jaunt to the Italian Cultural Institute, with Astrid and our friend Dracaena Wolf to see the sneak preview for the upcoming Ars Minerva production of La Flora. Swooned as usual over Celine Ricci’s description of research in dusty libraries or laboriously scrolling through microfilm. BTW if you get on the Italian Cultural Institute’s maling list they often have great events for free. The songs by the cast of La Flora were good ! I’m looking forward to that show in November! Also I am burning to someday get to play on a harpischord. I could see the guy playing’s hands and I could imagine playing what he was playing as accompaniment – I am sure I could even sight read it, slowly and badly – We had dinner afterwards at Cafe Macaroni (or something?) which was delicious and so instantly homey to me (Sicilian family side of things) I wonder why I do not go more often to that neighborhood for actual italian food. I will be back to that spot for sure tho. Dracaena played me some short clips of her music, which was wild – doing very strange stuff technically with rhythmic variations and i think different … scales? that was over my head but i could glimpse and yet also being clearly danceable. I can’t wait to hear more from her.

Mosswood Meltdown was great as usual – lots of low key lying on our picnic blanket feeling happy – drinking weak margaritas, smoking dope, and admiring everyone’s outfits – I especially loved Go Sailor and their pop punk joy – Pansy Division made me all starry-eyed – and the B52s of course were fantastic performers. I also bought a black and white checkered sweatshirt and a ridiculous neon pink and green mesh crop top.

Team Dresch show was probably the highlight of my summer show going (so far) as they were perfect in every way – it was (like i mentioned with Hanna’s book talk) like seeing them as mature adults rather than flailing, fellow damaged kids in their early 20s when I was also – Donna Dresch 100% admirable as she rocked out and competently messed around with the guitar pedals (I was right at her feet). Kai(a?) Wilson on point – Jody Bleyle very adorkable in a pokemon hat – entire dynamic of the band beautiful. Oceanator was impressive – more to the rock side of “punk” which I could appreciate though it is not my preference for genre – and Eddie & the Heartbeats touching folk punk that sometimes made me tear up as bits of the songs and stories made me think of my own stories – At some point I accidentally imposed (?) on someone who is some kind of scene queen of SF punk, but she was nice and helped my friend Gina get a chair and made way for me right at the front and also went ot get me a drink, implying it would be the work of a moment as she knows the bartenders, then miraculously reappearing with my beer – I have forgotten her name but maybe it starts with an M. She had an entertaining back story of being a fucked up girl in her early 20s and being hired by some specific (beer?) company to buy people their “first” beer (Black Star?) and she had a corporate credit card to do so and so was Very Popular at all the early 90s lesbian bars of the entire Bay Area. Also before that show I was way too early by accident & ended up inviting a girl named Tessa (“girl” but … probably only a bit younger than me) who loves robotics (Maybe teaches it) to get ice cream, and we had slightly too sweet but delicious “instragrammable” artisanal ice cream sandwiches before the show, but then I lost her to the smoking patio and she left early. I like Bottom of the Hill a lot as a venue! Lovely.

Commando, charming emo noise band Godgifu ( who kind of made me think of cheerfuler Bliss Blood/Pain Teens) , and Boyswitch at the Ivy Room – Boyswitch was TIGHT and great performers. I bought their cassette tape and all their merch! I love Commando and am always there to cheer on Lynnee’s poem about Prince – and their metally funk goodness & chaos in general – and feel kind of stabbed in the heart in a good way from Juba’s incredible poetry & rapping – A great show. You should BUY and READ Juba’s excellent book Son of Byford. A great poet with a far-ranging mind, my favorite sort of complicated poetry.

There is more but that will have to be it for now. All very short because I want to catch up a bit to the Now.

Rebel Girl and the Human League

My sister and I went to see Kathleen Hanna talk about her autobiography, Rebel Girl, last week. I recommend it! She was interviewed by poet, musician, and zinester Brontez Purnell and that was a joy because they had such lovely friendly chemistry and were able to laugh and enjoy themselves.

What a story – that Brontez was one of, as he describes it, “the 5 total riot boyzz in the world” who were writing letters to Bikini Kill and getting answers back from Kathleen. She described his 1993-ish letter, accompanied by a selfie he took of himself on the school bus, and how she had it taped up over her desk for the next 10 years. Write to your heroes everyone! They may like it! Then years later his band was opening for her band and now they are friends! A fairy tale that I love so much. I will likely review his recent book Ten Bridges I Have Burnt in a different post, since I bought it at the talk but have not read it yet.

It shouldn’t have been surprising to find Kathleen is tremendously funny. I had this reaction seeing her age up into a mid 50s person who is happy and has a secure life who deals with the intense trauma of their past with wry humor and is hard as nails but also soft as fuck and able to let it hang out and tell her stories and have a different kind of creative freedom where you get to explore your art while also — shocker — impossible — being supported. Maybe it sounds a little arrogant but that is how I feel about my life trajectory and it was so good and moving to know she is in a good place with her bands and singing and writing and her Beastie Boys husband and their loved and cherished child.

I did not know but also probably should have if I thought for 5 seconds that she has some also similar experiences being a person who other people report their trauma TO. By talking about rape and harassment you become kind of a magnet, you have freed others to talk about their traumatizing experiences and they want to tell you about it. Like the boxes of riot grrrl zine mail I was getting (and still have in the basement unsorted, unarchived) while still super fucked up in my early 20s from girls just a bit younger than me – it can be hard to take and she had to do that in person while having that level of indy fame where people make a lot of assumptions but you are desperately trying to scrape $40 together for medical care and eating dry ramen noodles and working at a strip club while you are ill as hell. My point was that when you talk about fighting rape & harassment you become the respository of everyone’s worst and hardest stories, and that is a hard load to carry no matter how much you feel honored and are willing to do the work of it. I vibed with all of this.

Of course I could talk about riot grrrl shit for fucking ever but that can wait.

Loved her joy in figuring out recording and mixing stuff (much of that, later on, in Julie Ruin era).

Loved the Kathy Acker stories both about being told no one listens to poets – better to be in a band — and about being smacked with a challenge to feminist essentialism (which I don’t 100% agree with actually, but it sounds like it was good for Hanna to be taken seriously & challenged by Acker.)

You can think, well what if Kathleen Hanna and so many more of us could have made our art without all this abuse and trauma and constant harassment? What if we could have support and love from family and have friends who don’t rape us and people who support our artistic careers without grossly hitting on us every fucking 5 seconds ? WHAT IF. But you cannot eat your heart out over it. & just hope for the youth to be MORE OK or at least to have that love and support and freedom.

Instead of eating my heart out I just feel tremendous respect for all the punk rock women making their music and expressing their feminism against all the things that made it difficult – poverty – racism – family – gross men – addiction & alcohol’s pull – hostile media – And so on. They did it and they survived (or didn’t) and it gives me immense strength just to think of them.

(I still miss you, Johanna Lee.)

I’m also 100% ok with her telling her own story about herself. This isn’t a collective story written by everyone who was involved and it isn’t trying to encompass everything that happened. It’s quite hard to make a coherent narrative out of a life, even one’s own life! I also liked the style of the short vignettes (which I have also been trying out.)

I hope it is immensely (further) healing for Kathleen to talk about her book and her life on stage in venues where she is respected and listened to and celebrated as an artist and for her whole self.

I enjoyed her stories and the book. She left out countless assaults and rapes I’m sure (which she joked about on stage) And I read with some sadness but also interest, about “Susan” who I instantly knew who it was, and I’d link but, What the actual Fuck, apparently there is still shit you can’t talk about? Of course it is fraught but it was interesting to see Hanna frame that interaction as encountering someone who she could not deal with because of their intensity and over-familiarity and having repeated mental health meltdowns on the bedroom floor of someone who didn’t actually want to let you into their house. However I was kinda sad to see her throw shade on “Susan”‘s writing and zine output, which I thought at the time was great and still love for its raw energy and realness because it spoke to me. I always appreciated “Susan’s” zines, mail, and mutual distro activity. At the time I did not know about the ridiculous and horrible problematicness of their behavior and their claims. The information about how it went down was not super visible to me either at the time – a little bit thru zines but I only really got it a few years later once we had web pages and then i forget who explained it to me (pre-blog.)

As gossip comes to me over the years I continue trying to unlock levels of understanding about things that affected me and my art and friendships even tho I was incredibly peripheral to those things. Why must it be so mysterious. But then I can SO easily imagine the queer anarchist collective meetings, or the personal arguments and angst, or whatever, that probably went into the non-links in this non-entry: https://zinewiki.com/wiki/Riot_Grrrl_Press Though you can get closer with this thoughtful post by ciarra.

there was also a lot of really interesting stuff about REDACTED & her crew. the book didn’t get into all the race controversy that happened after REDACTED wrote in her zine about the racist antebellum “one-drop rule” & how it is possible that she may have a black ancestor & so she can speak on behalf of all people of color everywhere–basically turning into a denier of privilege & positioning her identity in a big sick game of oppression olympics in which she can do no wrong. but it did kind of edge in that direction & shared a bunch of other ridiculous shit REDACTED did that was pretty similar.

it made me think about all the ridiculous arguments i have had with people over political things–things that sometimes seem like pointless internecine in-fighting, especially in retrospect. it made me think about how imperfect riot grrrl was, but in a way that didn’t really make me feel sad. it made me think more about how these girls were just muddling along, trying to make something out of nothing, doing what girls do, & because they managed to concoct this historical movement that has created such an intense feminist legacy, all the fights & snap decisions that didn’t seem so huge at the time, are being documented, & then they become evidence of the fractiousness that has plagued feminist movements since the inception of feminism.

WHY MUST OUR HISTORY CONTINUALLY DISAPPEAR. AAAAAAAAUGHHHHHH.

(It is because, the more marginalized your group is, the more vulnerable/more precarious everyone’s situation is so there is more at stake if you reveal the problems you will all be attacked personally in the worst ways and your internal / personal problems used to represent your entire category of people.)

Once I tried to trace what “actually happened” (as if that is possible) with the ending throes of the Combahee River Collective and whoooo. It’s none of my business on most levels. But it is interesting because of the way the dynamics are so similar to other groups who do amazing things and how they do not always last for a long time because Reasons.

It is so fraught to realize that sometimes the people you are THIS close to ideologically and personally are also the ones you cannot stand to be near, maybe they are just that bit of extra fucked up or chaotic that means they will drag you into their worldview or their own mess. Or you realize (like I did with “Susan”) that their racism is real and super harmful. I mean, we all want to “fix this mess”. Sometimes we can’t do it together I guess! I’m glad that “Susan” seems to have a more stable life now too. I am also extremely glad I was not close enough to any of that to be anywhere near the actual drama. WHEW.

In comparison, Hanna makes an attempt to talk about her own and white punks’ racism and the harm it did. Her big example is when she co-hosted a forum about undoing racism without realizing at all what was about to happen, which was white women’s tears to the max to the point where all the women of color left the event by the end except her very upset black co-host. There are many lessons there and one is probably, know how to just stop an event like that in its tracks. Like disrupt it or tell off your own audience or just full out end the event in the middle. As I get older that is part of what I think I may have learned or am learning. Sometimes things that seem good or well intentioned need to be stopped or destroyed, because they are so full of shit that allowing them to continue under your watch, is harmful and you’re complicit. “BURN IT DOWN.”

ANNNNNNNYWAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY

I promised some Human League commentary in this blog post. I was randomly listening to their first (?) album this morning in the shower after reading all the way through Rebel Girl in my pajamas, and I realized how much I appreciated their most famous song when it was new, because of how it wasn’t the usual fucking thing of a man complaining about a girlfriend who broke up with him and doesn’t appreciate him with an extra helping of “veiled” threat. Here is my freshmen composition essay about it! (I taught freshman comp briefly and read many a hastily tossed out song analysis! Why not.)

In Don’t You Want Me, which honestly is a bit insipid, but whatever, we all know the song — the dude has his say – he claims he discovered and “made” her in some way (assuming a musical career or something similar) – Then the threat. “I can put you back down too” and “we will both be sorry”, disturbing! He doesn’t accept that she is breaking up with him, and even tells her she doesn’t know what she wants, a total denial of her agency. So far, par for the course in pop songs and movies and books and like, everything. (This is why I hate most movies by the way, along with all the rapey fear bullshit and more general hetero/sexism/gender essentialism. I don’t need to consume any more of that toxic shit!)

But then the song totally redeems itself by Susan Ann Sulley giving our former waitress and now successful (artist) a voice in this!

I was working as a waitress in a cocktail bar
That much is true

Already, I’m happy because she instantly makes it clear she has a different version of this story! He doesn’t have a lock on the truth!

But even then I knew I’d find a life on my own
Either with or without you

Yes! Tell it! She also wasn’t pathetically waiting around for a man to come “discover” and “make” her! She had ambitions and plans and knew what she was doing! Thank you Susan Ann!!!!!!!

She acknowledges they had some good times together and she still has feelings towards Mr. ExBoyfriend, but…

But now I think it’s time I lived my life on my own
I guess it’s just what I must do

No argument, not a lot of explanation, no room for argument, just a clear message that it’s over and she is moving on.

I found this heartening and refreshing in the 80s. A woman could just break up a relationship and move on because it’s what she wanted to do. Duh! The end! (We hope, despite Mr “I made you, I can destroy you” making his gross threats.) It seems like a low fucking bar to set for one’s basic humanity.

Saul, again

I went to see Saul again tonight this time with Danny who is very jetlagged. Amazingly he lasted for the entire concert though I was prepared to leave early. it was absolutely splendid & i felt like the whole room was kind of stunned at the virtuosity all around. I am still impressed with Yulia Van Doren’s gorgeous pure voice – especially good on “Author of peace” (again) – and got shivers at the countertenor’s song to Saul all over again. Everything was just perfect – I admired the conductor’s perfect modulation of everything going on as I tried to stretch my mind to hear everything at once. Whenever things got super complex I wanted that to keep going forever – all too short!

During intermission i was reading some of the exhibits about WWI when a lady gorgeously dressed in purple with silver hair came up to me. “Excuse me… could I ask you a question?” This happens to me a lot and I turned to her, fixing my face to politeness, prepared to discuss wheelchair technology or purple hair dye (and hoping not to have to deal with some sort of weirder question).

“It’s my birthday….” (beaming smile)

I nod.

“And my friend bought me this big glass of champagne, but I can’t drink it. Can you drink champagne? And would you like it?”

I cracked up laughing. Sometimes!!! The things that happen to me! I just love it!

“WHY YES!”

I accepted the large glass of nice champagne.

Happy birthday and many happy returns, nice opera lady!!!!!! This just made my day! So sweet and so amusing! I feel honored!

My mind is still internally playing bits of Handel but it is mixing up in an unholy way with bits of Purcell and also, the wrong Handel.

I bought me & danny tickets to see Orlando in June for my birthday – the countertenor from tonight, Aryeh Nussbaum Cohen, is going to be in it.

Two concerts

Too tired to write much but I’ll note that I saw Handel’s Saul last night (Philharmonic Baroque) and then today, the all Bach concert at the Legion of Honor. Saul was great. I loved the music, (weird box of squirrels carillion! solemn and stately trombones! bassoons!) the choir was just brilliant, countertenor’s amazing voice gave me shivers, and I got an instant crush on the soprano singing Merab. Then as she was walking off stage and past my seat, all I can think is I must have been gazing at her adoringly or with a giant goofy grin, because quick as lightning she pulled a hilarious face and stuck her tongue out at me and then was all normal again. Sometimes it is the little things in life that are the most delightful!

The Wikipedia article on Saul quotes a letter describing a fabulous new instrument (the sackbut aka trombone):

He has also introduced the sackbut, a kind of trumpet,with more variety of notes,& it is 7 or 8-foot long,& draws in like a perspective glass, so may be shortened to 3-foot as the player chuses, or thrown out to its full length; despise not this description for I write from his own words.

Bits that I marked with a little star in the program: the opening hallelujah stuff, the duet between David and Michal, Merab in act 2 scene 9 singing “Author of peace, who canst control” and then the chorus “Oh fatal consequence” at the end of act 2. After that I stopped marking althought I certainly waggled my eyebrows thoughtfully when David sings “Great was the pleasure I enjoy’d in thee, and more than women’s love thy wondrous love to me!”

We must also note the excellence of the Witch of Endor’s vampirish cape.

I don’t have the right vocabulary to describe it, but there were glorious moments where the men of the chorus would start a sort of descending … cascade or something… in a minor key. Like in the end of act 1 where the chorus sings 2 lines for a few minutes. “Preserved him for the glory of thy name, thy people’s safety and the heathen’s shame” – I wished it would go on forever – I went into a complete trance. So great & complicated all at once.

It is sort of a libretto about toxic masculinity, like, at first i wanted it to be a bit more of a mirror for princes – don’t let paranoia drive you as a ruler, don’t attack the strongest allies you have out of fear or jealousy – But then pondering how even our paragons of rationality and control are mostly admired for their ability to deal out death, including gory details of how their swords reek from the entrails of the slain and their arrows always drink the blood of their victims, etc. Gross!

The Bach program today was pleasant and I liked the Coffee Cantata – very silly and adorable – the soprano was good, Shawnette Sulker. Afterwards wandered around the museum a little bit with Lisa but she had to leave. (But we did get to just stand around in front of The Russian Bride’s Attire. It’s really something! It would be amazing to cosplay with a big group. I call being the chick in the corner with the trash can hat!) I stayed a little longer and went to the Rubens exhibit by myself.

Why is it so damn hard to get over to that part of town on the bus? It took nearly 2 hours. The 38 Geary is hella slow.

Got some groceries & then crossed the street to get flowers from the woman who sets up in front of the abandoned liquor store. As always, I tried to choose flowers myself, but failed.

Flower lady: When you come to me you can get whatever you like, just tell me which ones…
Me: Um, some of these roses and these purple things and the purple thistles.
Flower lady: Don’t touch them, I will pick. It will ruin them.
Me: OK.
Flower lady: The thistles don’t go. You need this one. And some greens. Some leafs.
Me: Just the flowers is ok.
Guy with a chihuahua and groceries: You want to buy it?
Flower lady: But I don’t know if it works. No batteries.
(Lengthy conversation in Spanish, the guy is trying to sell her a floodlight)
Me: you need to sell stuff but people want to sell you stuff!
Flower lady: Tell me about it! Every day! Well, It’s good to buy from the little people. Like me. Because you can get what you like. Whatever you like! You choose!
Me: So…. Just the flowers then. Great thanks. I love them. (My back is hurting… i want to leave….)
Flower lady: I will choose for you. The greens will invigorate. Then something to make it pop. Here (stripping leaves brutally off the stems) I will arrange for you.
Me (resigned): Ok… you’re the expert! Lovely! Yes! Great! Thanks! Looks great!

*** A MILLION YEARS PASS WHILE SHE ARRANGES THE FLOWERS ***

Me: The thing is I have a pretty tall vase.
Flower lady: (does incomprehensible things)
Me: Very symmetrical! The yellow and orange roses look like flames in the middle!
Flower lady (giving me bay leaves): Put these leaves in the bath. Good for you.
Me: Thanks, I love bay leaves
Flower lady: And like this. (it starts to look super fancy!!!)
Me: Wow. OK!
Random white guy: I want one like that.
Me: Right? It’s nice.
Guy: I have bay leaves on my ranch and I like to just crush one and have it in my pocket.
Flower lady: I will make one for you.
Guy: Something something, guatemala.
Flower lady: Oh so! You are from Guatemala!
Guy (in spanish) No I just have a 2nd house there
Flower lady (in spanish): And a second woman and some extra children who look like you.
Me: *cracks up*
Guy (super uncomfortable): No! oh, no! My girlfriend is in the grocery store across the street!
Me: You better get her flowers, man!
Flower lady: Don’t let her know about the other wife in Guatemala. Where is your girlfriend? She can pick!
Me: She’s in the grocery store, he’s gonna surprise her.
Flower lady: I will give you this extra rose, for your bedside. The rose is INVIGORATING. It gives energy. You will keep it by the BED.
Me: Oh thanks. I actually have a little vase by my bed so , perfect
Flower lady: *starts to arrange more things with the extra rose*

*** NINETEEN MILLION HOURS LATER ***

I have a giant armful of flowers and am trying to balance it as I zoom down Cortland at like 15 miles an hour on my travelscoot driving it one-handed with a bag of groceries between my feet.

Calle 24 Cultural Crime #9823468

Really hating how the McDonald’s at 24th and Mission blasts classical music all hours of the day. It ruins the beautiful soundscape of both BART plazas which normally have several flavors of latin music going at once.

They’re doing it to discourage “loitering” but this is a public space specifically designed for people to enjoy being in! It’s extremely obnoxious – offensive!

I kind of get doing it at midnight but…. just no!

Road trip songs

On the drive back Danny played me some of a new Pet Shop Boys album in which they sing about social media (rhymed with Wikipedia, and greedier). They were so bad that we started making up new lyrics like “Get off my lawn” and “I used to be in a disco, now I’m on the city council”, “It’s so irritating when people don’t use their turn signals on these horseless carriages” and “Just let me sing another didactic bad internet song”.

“I was hoping for something more dreamy and poetic,” I complained.

Danny explained that Britain is too upset for that right now. Makes sense I guess.

We then played “It’s a Sin” to get back into the proper Pet Shop Boys loving frame of mind.

Mommy, What’s a Funkadelic?

Reading George Clinton’s book Brothas Be, Yo Like George, Ain’t That Funkin’ Kinda Hard On You?: A Memoir & it’s so entertaining. Of course Clinton can tell a great story, just a fantastic writer. I’m listening to Funkadelic as I read.

I spent the afternoon working from Noisebridge & then stayed a little to work on my game. Wrestling with the rules for rideable vehicles and elevators that are also vehicles (ironically, FIXING AN ELEVATOR in a game partially set in Noisebridge where I can only get in when the elevator is fixed, which it was, which I hoped would be good mojo for my game-elevator conumdrum) Wandered around answering the door, taking pictures of the walls, of signs, finding old things in new places and new things several layers deep, admiring the projects and wondering what everyone is into these days. It got so I could tell looking someone over whether they were there for the whiteboarding practice workshop group (fresher faced, in sweaters), Noisebridge regulars of one sort (scruffy with bikes and several duffle bages – to the consoles and beanbags!) or another (sinking deep into their laptops, muttering about Electron) or some intersection, and also I clocked (silently but to my entire satisfaction) the European hacker tourists (As if fresh off the mothership, straight out of CCC). The giant laser cutter hummed in its lair, there is most definitely a tiled, fire-shielded welding corner, the NGALAC hulked in its corner by the window, a crapton of nice looking musical equipment set up by what used to be the kitchen and a Virtual Reality tent of some sort in the back classroom. Everyone was nice. It even smelled ok.

I have a cold and worked kinda long hours and feel a bit… muted…. head splitting … so tired. So that’s all I have to say for now. Hope I feel better for Friday as I want to go to the Internet Archive celebration of free culture, the Grand Re-opening of the Public Domain.