Knee fuck fuck fuck knee fuck. Knee is fucked. I want cookies. I want sympathy.
I guess I'm taking the train to Ohio. Getting a ride with Shawn to nola. My little heart feels like it's breaking. maybe worse than my knee.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Friday, October 8, 2010
Spent about 4 hours getting a bike fit today. I'm not sure how I feel. I mean, I feel a bit better because homeboy straightened out my apparently crooked hips, adjusted my cleats saddle and handlebars. but...
okay. I feel like I was only afforded these services gratis because of my gender. & I dont really know how to feel about it. I'm sure you know this about me, but I'm not the type of person that thinks having genitals entitles me to manipulate people into giving me what I want. I use my titties for good, never for evil.
excuse me.
but seriously. okay. So I was given this service, several hundred dollars worth of service. because I'm a touring cyclist? Sure. If I was just some yahoo on a hooptey rollin in asking for that kind of service, I'm sure I'd be out of luck. But as a touring cyclist, spectacular tits or no, even if I was a grizzled old roadie, suffering from excruciating knee pain, I think they would have helped me adjust some things to get me on my way. But I don't think I would have gotten the same level of analytical fitting. And I don't think buddy would have referred to my crotch as 'the playground'.
(um. really. He told me not to tilt my saddle too far up, or I might hurt 'the playground'. That did make me laugh, though)
other evidence? well, he was definitely looking down my shirt when I was on the trainer. I think I would have done the same though, honestly, so I guess I'm not too upset.
oh, we did this thing to loosen my hips where he pulled at my knees and I had to try to close them. He said something like, "close your legs! Don't let that bad guy in there!"
I was straining pretty hard at the time, but I still remember thinking, "wait, what?"
Oh, and when one of his employees came in, he said, "watch out for this guy".
I made some noncommital noise. He said, "did you hear me?" as in, I'm not joking, this guy is going to give you trouble, you vulnerable and accessible girl you. The guy in question, though pretty douchey seeming, didnt say a word to me.
the mechanic who tuned up my bike was really awesome and did zero leering. yay.
Okay, now: Did I do the wrong thing by accepting a service that I perceived to be given to me based on my gender? Was I wrong for not saying anything about it? The guy's intentions WERE altruistic. He did a lot for me and got nothing in return. I really needed the service, and I couldnt pay what would be asked. I did go into the shop seeking the service, knowing I couldnt pay. What did I expect? And also, it's not like he propositioned me or anything. Made a few jokes. what's the big deal?
Maybe I'm feeling guilty because I feel I subconsciously expected this treatment, even though maybe based on my cycling goals and achievements rather than my 'playground'.
I don't want to be lumped in with those miserable harpies who go to bars and cackle as they manipulate a bunch a chumps they care nothing about into buying drinks for them all night.
I did really need this service. Would have I have refused the donation of time if I had been financially well off? I dont think so.
I would also like to mention: other than the slightly sexist comments, I didnt get the sense that he or any of the other mechanics talked down to me. Often at shops mechanics or technicians are eager to make themselves look good by making me (or anyone) feel stupid. Nothing discussed about my suffering was related to my ineptitude, and my posture wasnt nitpicked too hard. Critical points were discussed and politely corrected (keep your heels down, dont grip your bars, relax your elbows) though my positive traits were also noted but not in a patronizingly over congratulatory way. My maintenancing wasnt sneered at. Out of the many things that need to be tweaked (which were tweaked without mentioning), buddy only brought up the one that makes safety an issue, and required extra parts. we fixed it. (brake pads, I couldnt get them out of the shoes. we used vice grips and a hammer. I had the replacement pads on me already)
So, in this respect, I can definitely say I did NOT feel discriminated against, cause it's pretty common for mechanics to just finger wag and go "UM. UGH. DID YOU KNOW YOUR X Y AND Z IS FUCKED UP? DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW TO RIDE A BIKE?" making me feel icky and defensive. Usually if I express so much as a preference in products it must be because I just dont know how to use them. being a girl and all. duh.
blah
Welcome to the exhausting world of over analyzation.
I'm going to go back in to the shop before I leave town, to see if the exercises he gave me to do have been effective in straightening my hips.
wish me speedy knee recovery.
and like, smash the patriarchy, dude.
okay. I feel like I was only afforded these services gratis because of my gender. & I dont really know how to feel about it. I'm sure you know this about me, but I'm not the type of person that thinks having genitals entitles me to manipulate people into giving me what I want. I use my titties for good, never for evil.
excuse me.
but seriously. okay. So I was given this service, several hundred dollars worth of service. because I'm a touring cyclist? Sure. If I was just some yahoo on a hooptey rollin in asking for that kind of service, I'm sure I'd be out of luck. But as a touring cyclist, spectacular tits or no, even if I was a grizzled old roadie, suffering from excruciating knee pain, I think they would have helped me adjust some things to get me on my way. But I don't think I would have gotten the same level of analytical fitting. And I don't think buddy would have referred to my crotch as 'the playground'.
(um. really. He told me not to tilt my saddle too far up, or I might hurt 'the playground'. That did make me laugh, though)
other evidence? well, he was definitely looking down my shirt when I was on the trainer. I think I would have done the same though, honestly, so I guess I'm not too upset.
oh, we did this thing to loosen my hips where he pulled at my knees and I had to try to close them. He said something like, "close your legs! Don't let that bad guy in there!"
I was straining pretty hard at the time, but I still remember thinking, "wait, what?"
Oh, and when one of his employees came in, he said, "watch out for this guy".
I made some noncommital noise. He said, "did you hear me?" as in, I'm not joking, this guy is going to give you trouble, you vulnerable and accessible girl you. The guy in question, though pretty douchey seeming, didnt say a word to me.
the mechanic who tuned up my bike was really awesome and did zero leering. yay.
Okay, now: Did I do the wrong thing by accepting a service that I perceived to be given to me based on my gender? Was I wrong for not saying anything about it? The guy's intentions WERE altruistic. He did a lot for me and got nothing in return. I really needed the service, and I couldnt pay what would be asked. I did go into the shop seeking the service, knowing I couldnt pay. What did I expect? And also, it's not like he propositioned me or anything. Made a few jokes. what's the big deal?
Maybe I'm feeling guilty because I feel I subconsciously expected this treatment, even though maybe based on my cycling goals and achievements rather than my 'playground'.
I don't want to be lumped in with those miserable harpies who go to bars and cackle as they manipulate a bunch a chumps they care nothing about into buying drinks for them all night.
I did really need this service. Would have I have refused the donation of time if I had been financially well off? I dont think so.
I would also like to mention: other than the slightly sexist comments, I didnt get the sense that he or any of the other mechanics talked down to me. Often at shops mechanics or technicians are eager to make themselves look good by making me (or anyone) feel stupid. Nothing discussed about my suffering was related to my ineptitude, and my posture wasnt nitpicked too hard. Critical points were discussed and politely corrected (keep your heels down, dont grip your bars, relax your elbows) though my positive traits were also noted but not in a patronizingly over congratulatory way. My maintenancing wasnt sneered at. Out of the many things that need to be tweaked (which were tweaked without mentioning), buddy only brought up the one that makes safety an issue, and required extra parts. we fixed it. (brake pads, I couldnt get them out of the shoes. we used vice grips and a hammer. I had the replacement pads on me already)
So, in this respect, I can definitely say I did NOT feel discriminated against, cause it's pretty common for mechanics to just finger wag and go "UM. UGH. DID YOU KNOW YOUR X Y AND Z IS FUCKED UP? DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW TO RIDE A BIKE?" making me feel icky and defensive. Usually if I express so much as a preference in products it must be because I just dont know how to use them. being a girl and all. duh.
blah
Welcome to the exhausting world of over analyzation.
I'm going to go back in to the shop before I leave town, to see if the exercises he gave me to do have been effective in straightening my hips.
wish me speedy knee recovery.
and like, smash the patriarchy, dude.
disaster
I left Philly yesterday. Beautiful day, perfect weather. 40 miles later my knee hurt so bad I had to call the house and have someone come pick me up. Pain is in the back of the knee. I'm going to try to get my fit adjusted, might just be a cleat/saddle problem. I tore my MCL in my right knee in 2008, and that's the knee I usually worry about because it's the knee that usually hurts most, swells up, and so on. when it started tingling outside of Baltimore, I put a brace on it and it got better. It's my left knee that is killing me now, which has never been injured, which makes me think it's more of a fit problem. It didnt start hurting till my way back from NYC. I'll try to rest up for a week or so, but I think my bike tour is over. I am so fucking bummed out.
Though, I can't tell you how happy I am to have such amazing friends in philly. They came to get me on a moment's notice, and told me I could stay with them for as long as it takes me to figure out my plans.
So, overall, I'd say I'm pretty lucky.
keepin it posi
Though, I can't tell you how happy I am to have such amazing friends in philly. They came to get me on a moment's notice, and told me I could stay with them for as long as it takes me to figure out my plans.
So, overall, I'd say I'm pretty lucky.
keepin it posi
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
oh philadelphia
Well. I did wake up at 8. Left the house by 9:30. But then...
I got lost! Surprise!
I was going to take the ferry to NJ so as to avoid that horrific pulaski skyway business, but I couldnt find the ferry!
When I found the ferry, I learned that it doesnt go to NJ on the weekends! Surprise!
Then I went looking for a train that would take me to NJ for under $2. I found one! Hours later.In downtown newark, I kept accidentally getting on expressways and it took me forever to figure out how to get on the one without getting on the 95. When I finally made it to the one, it was almost 2pm. arrrrgh!
What I'm trying to tell you is: I didnt make it to philly in one day. Not only did all that racket happen in the morning, but I broke a spoke that day (my first mechanical trouble) and then, around 6p, I was told I couldnt go through a toll. I wasnt very cooperative, and they called the sgt. He said something like, "oh, well. normally we'd make people carry their bikes down the stairs, but since you're a woman, you can just get off at the next exit." He basically patted me on the head, told me that I could get back on in about ten miles. I started fuming about how I'd been on the one for a week, I came up to ny through this exact area. He said something about the expressway being too dangerous and I wanted to scream, "I RODE ON THE MOTHERFUCKING PULASKI SKYWAY" but instead I just sniffled about how much MORE dangerous it would be if I had to ride on the one after dark.
I got booted off onto some shitty road with no shoulder, and I grumbled about it for hours.
I actually made pretty good time, almost 70m in about 5 hours. It's totally flat between nyc and phl. When it got dark out, though I was only about 7 miles from where it would have been safe and well lit enough for me to ride, I had to stop. No matter how many lights I have on, drivers still cant see me, no shoulder on that part of the highway, and everyone drives like 60mph.
I slept under a tree, woke up to a cliff bar breakfast with the realization that I'd left my only hoodie in brooklyn. damn. It is fucking COLD out here, y'all.I made it to the butthutt by 10:30. It feels good to be back. I think I could live here, and I think I might try in the summer.
Here are some pictures of the chickenhut.
I got lost! Surprise!
I was going to take the ferry to NJ so as to avoid that horrific pulaski skyway business, but I couldnt find the ferry!
When I found the ferry, I learned that it doesnt go to NJ on the weekends! Surprise!
Then I went looking for a train that would take me to NJ for under $2. I found one! Hours later.In downtown newark, I kept accidentally getting on expressways and it took me forever to figure out how to get on the one without getting on the 95. When I finally made it to the one, it was almost 2pm. arrrrgh!
What I'm trying to tell you is: I didnt make it to philly in one day. Not only did all that racket happen in the morning, but I broke a spoke that day (my first mechanical trouble) and then, around 6p, I was told I couldnt go through a toll. I wasnt very cooperative, and they called the sgt. He said something like, "oh, well. normally we'd make people carry their bikes down the stairs, but since you're a woman, you can just get off at the next exit." He basically patted me on the head, told me that I could get back on in about ten miles. I started fuming about how I'd been on the one for a week, I came up to ny through this exact area. He said something about the expressway being too dangerous and I wanted to scream, "I RODE ON THE MOTHERFUCKING PULASKI SKYWAY" but instead I just sniffled about how much MORE dangerous it would be if I had to ride on the one after dark.
I got booted off onto some shitty road with no shoulder, and I grumbled about it for hours.
I actually made pretty good time, almost 70m in about 5 hours. It's totally flat between nyc and phl. When it got dark out, though I was only about 7 miles from where it would have been safe and well lit enough for me to ride, I had to stop. No matter how many lights I have on, drivers still cant see me, no shoulder on that part of the highway, and everyone drives like 60mph.
I slept under a tree, woke up to a cliff bar breakfast with the realization that I'd left my only hoodie in brooklyn. damn. It is fucking COLD out here, y'all.I made it to the butthutt by 10:30. It feels good to be back. I think I could live here, and I think I might try in the summer.
Here are some pictures of the chickenhut.
It's almost impossible to describe the scale of this place. It's HUGE, like a whole city block. it has a woodshop inside, and the guy who uses it makes all sorts of awesome stuff. there's a huge roof that I slept on, a million cats and comfy, though mosquito covered, couches. there is a BEDBUG EPIDEMIC in brooklyn. BEDBUGS is the word. It's crazy, every retail outlet, every clothing store, all the subways, everything has bedbugs. bedbugs are a virulent pest, they will bite you hundreds of times in a night, and live in basically any porous surface, making them impossible to eradicate. None of the places I stayed in had bedbugs, but all feared them, and the chicken hut was recently sprayed, 'just to make sure'.
I'm leaving for Baltimore tomorrow morning. I'm trying to move this tour a little quicker, cause I'm running out of money pretty fast, and my knee problems are getting kind of bad. I have to buy another knee brace because my other knee hurts, too.
otherwise, I'm having a good time, eating a ton and trying to stay out of the rain. I stole some music from the chickenhut's itunes, my favorite song so far being Donna Summer's Hot Stuff.
seriously, nothing peps me up like disco. take away my punk card or whatever, I dont need it.
stayin alive
C
seriously, nothing peps me up like disco. take away my punk card or whatever, I dont need it.
stayin alive
C
Oh, and if you like blogs about riding bikes really far and dicking off, you'll love my friend michelle's blog
Friday, October 1, 2010
I'm going back to philly tomorrow morning. I havent really had the chance to ride a full day yet, when I leave a town I've been draggin ass in the morning and not leaving till after noon. this means I run out of daylight before I actually get tired, I usually make it about 70 miles.
not this time.
I am getting all my shit done, all my maintenancing, making all my coffee right. now.
I am not boozin!
I will wake up before 8!
I WILL RIDE 100 BAD ASS MILES TOMORROW!
& the crowd goes wild.
yo, it's actually cold here. I've been waiting for it to stop raining. It's low 50's, humid as heck. I am spooning a cat and brewing all the coffee I'll need in a percolator, waiting for Samm to get home so we can watch The Office. Last night we went "dumpstering" in Manhattan.
Dumpstering is in quotes because they dont have dumpsters in MH, they throw their trash bags on the sidewalk and dont give a fuck if you rifle through them. The garbage men all ride on the back of the truck, holding on to the side like you see in movies! When I discovered this I thought, "I want to do that!"
maybe someday.
We found some baked potatoes wrapped in tinfoil, two kind of nasty pizzas, a loaf of burnt bread, some croissants, a whole shitload of bagels and rolls, and! -! -! about twenty chocolate truffles. I started jumping for joy and dancing when I pulled it out.
I'm ready to blow this popsicle stand. Time to get back into beast mode. Smell you later.
not this time.
I am getting all my shit done, all my maintenancing, making all my coffee right. now.
I am not boozin!
I will wake up before 8!
I WILL RIDE 100 BAD ASS MILES TOMORROW!
& the crowd goes wild.
yo, it's actually cold here. I've been waiting for it to stop raining. It's low 50's, humid as heck. I am spooning a cat and brewing all the coffee I'll need in a percolator, waiting for Samm to get home so we can watch The Office. Last night we went "dumpstering" in Manhattan.
Dumpstering is in quotes because they dont have dumpsters in MH, they throw their trash bags on the sidewalk and dont give a fuck if you rifle through them. The garbage men all ride on the back of the truck, holding on to the side like you see in movies! When I discovered this I thought, "I want to do that!"
maybe someday.
We found some baked potatoes wrapped in tinfoil, two kind of nasty pizzas, a loaf of burnt bread, some croissants, a whole shitload of bagels and rolls, and! -! -! about twenty chocolate truffles. I started jumping for joy and dancing when I pulled it out.
I'm ready to blow this popsicle stand. Time to get back into beast mode. Smell you later.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Yo guys, how do I look in this onesie?
FUCKIN AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
um. new york. Now I'm just waiting out the rain. I'll be going back to philly on saturday morning, then down and down and down.
My time spent here has been a little strange. I felt so triumphant when I arrived, but nothing is really as I expected. I've been trying to take chances, but things havent really been going my way. My grand imagined new york fantasy really didnt manifest as expected, though it's still ok.
I've run into so many people I know. some folks from sf/poakland. one of the bartenders from now thats class. a nice boy I went to high school with.
I am entranced by manhattan downtown traffic. I'm not going to jizz all over you about "the perfect line" and how I feel "so at one with the road, man" but wow. It takes so much concentration to make it around that I feel a deep zen calm when zooming through lines of cabs and trying to predict the most aloof and inconsiderate pedestrians in the world.
I cant wrap my head around brooklyn streets. I dont have a map, and I spent 6 horrible hours looking for coney island the other day, which I never did find. Wandering aimlessly I enjoy, but being lost is not the same thing. brooklyn is not very big. It's pretty ridiculous that I could be lost for 6 hours. I only recognize about 10-15 streets, and many of them run oblique so they cant reliably be used as a reference of direction if I dont know in what order the streets intersect. I've had a lot of frustration just trying to get around. I dont know what I'm going to do today, but getting a map is pretty high on my list.
nothing else to report, really. Off to play in the rain.
Monday, September 20, 2010
After a harrowing ride through New Jersey, including accidentally getting on to the Pulaski Skyway, (a hellish two lane bridge with no shoulder and intersecting metal grates that stretched on for an eternity) I MADE IT TO FUCKING BROOKLYN!
I could go on about how much I hated riding through NJ, but instead I'll just say how happy I am to be here!
I could go on about how much I hated riding through NJ, but instead I'll just say how happy I am to be here!
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
phillest illest
I am still in philidelphia. Yesterday someone tried to convince me to eat something called 'scrapple'. Today I will eat a cheesesteak.
I'm on my way to visit the Museum of Medical Oddities. ! ! !
I just wanted to tell you about more random cycles of luck. I lost my phone on sunday. I had been aimlessly around the city for hours. I dont even know what streets I was on. maybe all of them. I realized my phone wasnt in my back pocket. Fuck. I was panicked. I had just been thinking about how badly I needed to write down all of my numbers in case of an emergency. but of course I hadnt done it. fuck fuck fuck.
I went back to a house I had been staying at, and used a phone to call my phone over and over. It was raining outside, and I was pretty worried that the phone would get shorted out by the water and never be recovered. When someone finally answered it, it ended up being at a punk show, found by the super nice doorguy, who didnt even want a beer or a sandwich as a thank you for hangin on to it. I hadnt been to the venue that day. or ever. WHAT ARE THE FUCKING CHANCES?
I then wrote down all of my numbers. yes.
PRDCT
I'm on my way to visit the Museum of Medical Oddities. ! ! !
I just wanted to tell you about more random cycles of luck. I lost my phone on sunday. I had been aimlessly around the city for hours. I dont even know what streets I was on. maybe all of them. I realized my phone wasnt in my back pocket. Fuck. I was panicked. I had just been thinking about how badly I needed to write down all of my numbers in case of an emergency. but of course I hadnt done it. fuck fuck fuck.
I went back to a house I had been staying at, and used a phone to call my phone over and over. It was raining outside, and I was pretty worried that the phone would get shorted out by the water and never be recovered. When someone finally answered it, it ended up being at a punk show, found by the super nice doorguy, who didnt even want a beer or a sandwich as a thank you for hangin on to it. I hadnt been to the venue that day. or ever. WHAT ARE THE FUCKING CHANCES?
I then wrote down all of my numbers. yes.
PRDCT
Saturday, September 11, 2010
I know a place up in the air
Some more wafflings, while I have the time.
My first day of riding I was denied water. I pulled into a real estate agent's office. There was a man on a cellphone in the gravel parking lot. It was 95 degrees, I was sweating, I had just run out of water.
"um, excuse me sir? Do you work here?"
I remember him scoffing, but I couldnt exactly determine if it was because of something frustrating that was going on, his indignance about my presence, or because the idea that I implied that he 'worked' at that office when he very well may have 'owned' it was ridiculous.
Scoff "yes, I work here"
"Okay, um. Do you think I could please have some water from your tap?" holding out waterbottles, beseeching eyes.
"I cant let you in the building"
"well, that's okay, I dont need to go in. could you get some for me? I am really thirsty"
"No, I cant go inside. I work here, but I cant go inside" The thinnest of lies
"well, do you have a spigot outside? a hose?"
"no. look, go next door and ask them"
all the while, a magnificent fountain is splashing delicious looking water all over, making me crazy with thirst and exposing his 'no spigot' bullshit. but what can you do? I dusted him and his sad life and got water and a pep talk from some ladies at a salon.
I'm always jazzed when people offer me ice cubes, even though I dont take them, because I appreciate the consideration. It's not too great to drink super cold stuff on a super hot day, it can shock a system already under duress, plus my water bottles are 100 degrees after about two seconds anyway, but I like the attention.
I have more tattoos than you might remember. I did end up tattooing "C O W A B U N G A !" on my toe knuckles. Dana and I got matching dog jaw tattoos, and if you dont know about dog jaw, you should ask us. Nick gave me an arrow on the side of my calf and I got a CYDWY to match my YHBFT ankle mottos. It's not like I intend to turn my body into a doodlepad, but there is really much to be said for stick n pokes on the road, and I am travelling with some needles and ink, just in case.
I'm riding my blue medici. With great difficulty I installed a velo orange front rack on my super tight carbon fork. I had to saw the bolt twice, then the nut, then file it down and bang the arm with a hammer just to get milimeters of clearance with my 700x23 tire. I actually had to saw a nub off the rack, too, and anything that is not a box rubs against my tire, so I had to wrap a system of tube scraps on it to keep my sleeping bag away from my tire. It is a pretty poorly designed rack, in my opinion, but it portages my stuff, being two small panniers and a sleeping bag. (the first thing that rack actually carried was a mostly full space bag of franzia) the front panniers have patches sewn to them. on the drive side, an 'alive with pleasure!' suv burning printed by our own mr Joey Alone, and the other a 'he-man, masters of the universe' print that Evan gave me. on my rear rack I carry a thermarest, single person tent, and my empty squid bag. I have two giant rear panniers. I'll write you up a packing list later.
I found 20 bucks in an ATM yesterday. When I looked in the tray, the woman who had left it was halfway out the door. I could have chased her down and returned it. I immediately felt guilt after deciding not to. I didnt immediately put it in my wallet, or walk away from the atm. I finished my transaction, expecting her to come back at any moment, more than ready to hand it over. but she didnt.
I'm not sure why I felt guilt, or why I didnt return it in the first place. If it had been MY 20 bucks, I wouldnt expect anyone to return it, but I would certainly appreciate it. What makes me feel like I had the right to even consider keeping something that clearly was not mine? I dont need 20 bucks bad enough to be a shitty person. I'm relying so heavilly on the kindness of strangers these days. intricate networks of people I have totally never met open their homes to me, share their food with me, keep me company, consider me in all small ways and I couldnt be a good enough stranger to return this abstracted reciept? fuck man. I wished I had returned it, even as I used it to buy beer and cigarettes to share with my hosts.
but, as Shon said, "You cant PROVE that that lady didnt leave that there for you. You know, people are really friendly, and they like sharing and stuff"
I guess I really try to project this superficial appearance of unfuckwithableness. I posture a lot, I like watching my muscles flex and scowling a little bit. When I'm at a rest stop I think of myself as having a blinking sign above me that says, "dont even fucking look at me." This must be some sort of defense mechanism, though it doesnt give me any false sense of invulnerability, it is comforting a little. I'm not afraid of traveling alone. The question most frequent asked of me is, "Where you headed?" and after that "By yourself?!"
I've never even thought of traveling with anyone else. It literally never occured to me. That most people cant imagine being alone in a situation I cant imagine having company, well, I think it's really telling of my character in a lot of ways. Their surprise at my natural inclination does make me feel a little lonely, though, I guess.
-cari
My first day of riding I was denied water. I pulled into a real estate agent's office. There was a man on a cellphone in the gravel parking lot. It was 95 degrees, I was sweating, I had just run out of water.
"um, excuse me sir? Do you work here?"
I remember him scoffing, but I couldnt exactly determine if it was because of something frustrating that was going on, his indignance about my presence, or because the idea that I implied that he 'worked' at that office when he very well may have 'owned' it was ridiculous.
Scoff "yes, I work here"
"Okay, um. Do you think I could please have some water from your tap?" holding out waterbottles, beseeching eyes.
"I cant let you in the building"
"well, that's okay, I dont need to go in. could you get some for me? I am really thirsty"
"No, I cant go inside. I work here, but I cant go inside" The thinnest of lies
"well, do you have a spigot outside? a hose?"
"no. look, go next door and ask them"
all the while, a magnificent fountain is splashing delicious looking water all over, making me crazy with thirst and exposing his 'no spigot' bullshit. but what can you do? I dusted him and his sad life and got water and a pep talk from some ladies at a salon.
I'm always jazzed when people offer me ice cubes, even though I dont take them, because I appreciate the consideration. It's not too great to drink super cold stuff on a super hot day, it can shock a system already under duress, plus my water bottles are 100 degrees after about two seconds anyway, but I like the attention.
I have more tattoos than you might remember. I did end up tattooing "C O W A B U N G A !" on my toe knuckles. Dana and I got matching dog jaw tattoos, and if you dont know about dog jaw, you should ask us. Nick gave me an arrow on the side of my calf and I got a CYDWY to match my YHBFT ankle mottos. It's not like I intend to turn my body into a doodlepad, but there is really much to be said for stick n pokes on the road, and I am travelling with some needles and ink, just in case.
I'm riding my blue medici. With great difficulty I installed a velo orange front rack on my super tight carbon fork. I had to saw the bolt twice, then the nut, then file it down and bang the arm with a hammer just to get milimeters of clearance with my 700x23 tire. I actually had to saw a nub off the rack, too, and anything that is not a box rubs against my tire, so I had to wrap a system of tube scraps on it to keep my sleeping bag away from my tire. It is a pretty poorly designed rack, in my opinion, but it portages my stuff, being two small panniers and a sleeping bag. (the first thing that rack actually carried was a mostly full space bag of franzia) the front panniers have patches sewn to them. on the drive side, an 'alive with pleasure!' suv burning printed by our own mr Joey Alone, and the other a 'he-man, masters of the universe' print that Evan gave me. on my rear rack I carry a thermarest, single person tent, and my empty squid bag. I have two giant rear panniers. I'll write you up a packing list later.
I found 20 bucks in an ATM yesterday. When I looked in the tray, the woman who had left it was halfway out the door. I could have chased her down and returned it. I immediately felt guilt after deciding not to. I didnt immediately put it in my wallet, or walk away from the atm. I finished my transaction, expecting her to come back at any moment, more than ready to hand it over. but she didnt.
I'm not sure why I felt guilt, or why I didnt return it in the first place. If it had been MY 20 bucks, I wouldnt expect anyone to return it, but I would certainly appreciate it. What makes me feel like I had the right to even consider keeping something that clearly was not mine? I dont need 20 bucks bad enough to be a shitty person. I'm relying so heavilly on the kindness of strangers these days. intricate networks of people I have totally never met open their homes to me, share their food with me, keep me company, consider me in all small ways and I couldnt be a good enough stranger to return this abstracted reciept? fuck man. I wished I had returned it, even as I used it to buy beer and cigarettes to share with my hosts.
but, as Shon said, "You cant PROVE that that lady didnt leave that there for you. You know, people are really friendly, and they like sharing and stuff"
I guess I really try to project this superficial appearance of unfuckwithableness. I posture a lot, I like watching my muscles flex and scowling a little bit. When I'm at a rest stop I think of myself as having a blinking sign above me that says, "dont even fucking look at me." This must be some sort of defense mechanism, though it doesnt give me any false sense of invulnerability, it is comforting a little. I'm not afraid of traveling alone. The question most frequent asked of me is, "Where you headed?" and after that "By yourself?!"
I've never even thought of traveling with anyone else. It literally never occured to me. That most people cant imagine being alone in a situation I cant imagine having company, well, I think it's really telling of my character in a lot of ways. Their surprise at my natural inclination does make me feel a little lonely, though, I guess.
I cant believe I never noticed before, but Britney Spears' "Toxic" is totally a love song to McDonald's.
"Baby, can't you see? I'm calling a guy like you Should wear a warning
It's dangerous, I'm fallin' There's no escape I can't wait, I need a hit Baby, give me it You're dangerous, I'm lovin' it
Too high, can't come down Losing my head Spinning 'round and 'round Do you feel me now? With a taste of your lips I'm on a ride You're toxic, I'm slipping under With a taste of poison paradise I'm addicted to you Don't you know that you're toxic? And I love what you do Don't you know that you're toxic? It's getting late To give you up I took a sip from my devil cup Slowly, it's taking over me"
clearly references to britney's unhealthy relationship to food, McD's in particular. She knows that it's a terrible substance, yet she just cannot resist this toxic food. Even the company motto. she's lovin it. it all makes sense now.
-cari
In west philidelphia born n raised, on the playground is where I spent most of my days
I am in philidelphia. I got into town yesterday. I would like to give you a recap now, and as you are reading this blog, I think that's what you're looking for.
I last updated this blog the day before I left richmond.
Friday
Later that day I made fish burritos with John and Cath. John is the friendly barista from crossroads, and Cath is his super awesome roomate. Cath told me she had some friends in dc that I could crash with. great! I left the next afternoon, about 1pm, super excited.
Saturday
I took route 1. I rode 70 miles. Va is hella hilly. hill after hill. they just never stopped. hill after hill with a headwind. This is the first time I've toured on a double. I'm not gonna lie, I spent a lot of the day muttering "I wish I had a granny gear, wish I had a granny gear". I kept futilely flicking my shifter, hoping it had just stuck or caught and I could continue to shift down. But no.
I hate climbing hills. but I'm trying to trick myself into liking them. After I descend, the hill ahead looks so much less steep, and I'll say aloud, "Ha! That doesnt look so bad!" and then I'll wheeze to the top at 8 mph, have a victory cigarette, and do it all over. When I see a giant steep incline rising out of the distance, I try not to let myself feel anxious. I just get in the drops and look 5 feet in front of me, not even watching the summit inch closer. I say to myself, "you could climb this hill forever. You're doing awesome" and then I get to the top. have a victory cigarette. and descend. There have been many hills that I've taken breaks on. Just stopped 2 or 3 times and put my feet on the ground, standing over my bike, just letting the burning in my legs ease up. but I havent walked a single fucking one. fuck yeah! Victory cigarette!
In northern va I slept by the side of the road in this wooded area near this rollerskating rink. I could hear the bass of the music thumping, and I would try to guess what each song was. The last song of the night was definitely salt n' peppa's 'push it'.
Sunday
got into DC. called up Brendan, Cath's friend, and stayed over at his house, 'the corpse fortress'. friendly folks, and the most comfortable couch I think I've ever slept on. Victory cigarettes, beers, matress stabbing with swords, tuna spookin, scrabies. throwin rocks at shit.
Monday
Labor Day, I called this girl Julia. I'm gonna have to make a flow chart to get all these connections straight. I met Julia through Jen who lives at The Flying Brick in Richmond. I didnt end up staying with Julia, but I went to a Laborday BBQ with her. I made baked kale and sweet potato fries, played apples to apples, and had a good ole time. I met an awesome lady named Meg, who told me she had friends I could stay with in Baltimore. Hooray!
Tuesday
The next day in DC, I went to the National Natural history museum. Taxidermied animals, models of tectonic plates, dinosaurs. My favorite part was the giant tank they had full of water bugs, but that is just my style. I got lost in Rock Creek Park for a couple hours. I just kept climbing and descending and climbing and descending. I kept thinking that if I headed in one direction I'd be able to get out, but the roads were windey and half of them dead ended and then I ran out of water. ugh. Never actually made it to the National Cathedral, which was where I was trying to go.
Later that night, Garrett, this friend of Brendan's from the C.F. called me up and invited me to 'The Ruins" with a group of kids. I think The Ruins are the closest thing to The Landfill of the bay I've ever seen. Basically a bunch of trash rocks left over from the rebuilding of some old historic thing, dumped in the middle of this park and forgot about, and in the middle of the night punk kids go there and crawl all over them. good times.
Wednesday
I rode to baltimore on wednesday. good ole rt one. getting into the city from the south side, the road got super shitty with giant potholes. This truck behind me started honking for about a mile behind me, and I usually ignore honking vehicles cause they typically just want to be shitty, but after so long I looked behind me at a stoplight and the passenger of the truck was dangling my squid bag and sleeping pad out of the window. Apparently, I hadnt even noticed that on one of the giant fucking potholes all my shit had come unbungeed from my rear rack and spilled all over the road. This truck full of good samaritans stopped to pick it up for me. My bag, thermarest, lock- Fuck. my tent was missing. I wouldnt have even noticed that my stuff bounced off if that truck hadnt let me know. Thank you so much, anonymous truck!
I went back to find my tent, which wasnt torn, but the poles were crushed. (probably from being run over by a truck, but hey, I got it from REI. I'll just go get new poles)
I stayed with Meg's friend, Rachel, at this awesome warehouse space full of nice people and cats. I really want to hang out in baltimore on my way back down, but I set out for philly the next day
Thursday
I left baltimore at about 2pm after going to a cool bike shop and trying to diagnose a clicking sound. We couldnt get to the bottom of it, but since it still works just fine I'm gonna leave it alone. rode 65 miles. good ole rt one (still). I bought a knee brace, since my knee had just started to hurt and I wanted to prevent it from getting any worse. It feels okay so far.
As soon as I got to PA the road flattened out. I had been feeling pretty exhausted, making less than ten miles an hour, resting on almost every hill, going over this terrifying bridge with no shoulder, but as soon as I hit the expressway I felt like a million bucks. Like I could fucking ride forever. Of course, the sun went down 15 miles later and I slept behind a tree between the highway and an exit. I woke up to what felt like the pressure of an animal's footprint, and I whipped around real fast and started hissing like a cat, a sound that I figured all mammals could recognize as "get the fuck away from me!". but I didnt hear anything scurry off into the bushes, so I think it must have been my imagination.
Friday.
Woke at 7am and set off. Made it into philly at about 4, maybe 55 miles. I felt like a fucking champ. I was trying to make it into Philly by friday to meet up with Cath, and though I did make it in, we didnt meet up that night. My friend Ben, from cleveland, hooked me up with his rad friends Nico and Caroline. I actually had a bedroom to myself, which I passed out at about 11p in and slept till 10am.
Saturday (today!)
Made breakfast. updated blog. gonna go get on with my day.
My fucking saddle sores are out of control. I need to rest up in a serious way. "um, I cant leave town right now, cause my ass is busted up"
Bag balm. vaseline. relief!
BONUS
Wanna make a motherfucking fish burrito? They fucking rule. I'll learn ya: this makes about two hella huge fish burritos
1 can of tuna. SOLID or CHUNK none of that shredded shit
1 Avocado
1 tomato
1/2 onion
giant burrito tortillas
lemon juice
salt
pepper
garlic salt or chopped garlic
earth balance, butter, oil, or whatever
1 bag of spinach\
hot sauce (I like red hot)
<1 cup of rice, I usually make it a cup at a time, but you dont need that much
Optional:
cottage cheese
refried or whole beans
1. Put yer rice on! You do know how to cook rice, dontcha?
2. cook yer damn fish! Squeeze all the juice out of the can of tuna, sear it with some butter in a big pan. I like to burn it a little bit. throw some lemon juice, salt + peppa, garlic in there
when it's about half way cooked add yer bag of spiznach, and the onion (diced)
3. fry yer tortillas! Just throw some butter on a pan, & cook that thang a little bit! then flip!
tortillas cook fast, your rice and fish is probably still cooking. put your avo and tomato (sliced) on your burrito, salt and pepper, then yer hotsauce and beans and cottage cheese (I guess you could use sour cream, I just hate it)
It's all cooked! Put it together and eat it! Fish burritos are probably my favorite thing. and super cheap!
I last updated this blog the day before I left richmond.
Friday
Later that day I made fish burritos with John and Cath. John is the friendly barista from crossroads, and Cath is his super awesome roomate. Cath told me she had some friends in dc that I could crash with. great! I left the next afternoon, about 1pm, super excited.
Saturday
I took route 1. I rode 70 miles. Va is hella hilly. hill after hill. they just never stopped. hill after hill with a headwind. This is the first time I've toured on a double. I'm not gonna lie, I spent a lot of the day muttering "I wish I had a granny gear, wish I had a granny gear". I kept futilely flicking my shifter, hoping it had just stuck or caught and I could continue to shift down. But no.
I hate climbing hills. but I'm trying to trick myself into liking them. After I descend, the hill ahead looks so much less steep, and I'll say aloud, "Ha! That doesnt look so bad!" and then I'll wheeze to the top at 8 mph, have a victory cigarette, and do it all over. When I see a giant steep incline rising out of the distance, I try not to let myself feel anxious. I just get in the drops and look 5 feet in front of me, not even watching the summit inch closer. I say to myself, "you could climb this hill forever. You're doing awesome" and then I get to the top. have a victory cigarette. and descend. There have been many hills that I've taken breaks on. Just stopped 2 or 3 times and put my feet on the ground, standing over my bike, just letting the burning in my legs ease up. but I havent walked a single fucking one. fuck yeah! Victory cigarette!
In northern va I slept by the side of the road in this wooded area near this rollerskating rink. I could hear the bass of the music thumping, and I would try to guess what each song was. The last song of the night was definitely salt n' peppa's 'push it'.
Sunday
got into DC. called up Brendan, Cath's friend, and stayed over at his house, 'the corpse fortress'. friendly folks, and the most comfortable couch I think I've ever slept on. Victory cigarettes, beers, matress stabbing with swords, tuna spookin, scrabies. throwin rocks at shit.
Monday
Labor Day, I called this girl Julia. I'm gonna have to make a flow chart to get all these connections straight. I met Julia through Jen who lives at The Flying Brick in Richmond. I didnt end up staying with Julia, but I went to a Laborday BBQ with her. I made baked kale and sweet potato fries, played apples to apples, and had a good ole time. I met an awesome lady named Meg, who told me she had friends I could stay with in Baltimore. Hooray!
Tuesday
The next day in DC, I went to the National Natural history museum. Taxidermied animals, models of tectonic plates, dinosaurs. My favorite part was the giant tank they had full of water bugs, but that is just my style. I got lost in Rock Creek Park for a couple hours. I just kept climbing and descending and climbing and descending. I kept thinking that if I headed in one direction I'd be able to get out, but the roads were windey and half of them dead ended and then I ran out of water. ugh. Never actually made it to the National Cathedral, which was where I was trying to go.
Later that night, Garrett, this friend of Brendan's from the C.F. called me up and invited me to 'The Ruins" with a group of kids. I think The Ruins are the closest thing to The Landfill of the bay I've ever seen. Basically a bunch of trash rocks left over from the rebuilding of some old historic thing, dumped in the middle of this park and forgot about, and in the middle of the night punk kids go there and crawl all over them. good times.
Wednesday
I rode to baltimore on wednesday. good ole rt one. getting into the city from the south side, the road got super shitty with giant potholes. This truck behind me started honking for about a mile behind me, and I usually ignore honking vehicles cause they typically just want to be shitty, but after so long I looked behind me at a stoplight and the passenger of the truck was dangling my squid bag and sleeping pad out of the window. Apparently, I hadnt even noticed that on one of the giant fucking potholes all my shit had come unbungeed from my rear rack and spilled all over the road. This truck full of good samaritans stopped to pick it up for me. My bag, thermarest, lock- Fuck. my tent was missing. I wouldnt have even noticed that my stuff bounced off if that truck hadnt let me know. Thank you so much, anonymous truck!
I went back to find my tent, which wasnt torn, but the poles were crushed. (probably from being run over by a truck, but hey, I got it from REI. I'll just go get new poles)
I stayed with Meg's friend, Rachel, at this awesome warehouse space full of nice people and cats. I really want to hang out in baltimore on my way back down, but I set out for philly the next day
Thursday
I left baltimore at about 2pm after going to a cool bike shop and trying to diagnose a clicking sound. We couldnt get to the bottom of it, but since it still works just fine I'm gonna leave it alone. rode 65 miles. good ole rt one (still). I bought a knee brace, since my knee had just started to hurt and I wanted to prevent it from getting any worse. It feels okay so far.
As soon as I got to PA the road flattened out. I had been feeling pretty exhausted, making less than ten miles an hour, resting on almost every hill, going over this terrifying bridge with no shoulder, but as soon as I hit the expressway I felt like a million bucks. Like I could fucking ride forever. Of course, the sun went down 15 miles later and I slept behind a tree between the highway and an exit. I woke up to what felt like the pressure of an animal's footprint, and I whipped around real fast and started hissing like a cat, a sound that I figured all mammals could recognize as "get the fuck away from me!". but I didnt hear anything scurry off into the bushes, so I think it must have been my imagination.
Friday.
Woke at 7am and set off. Made it into philly at about 4, maybe 55 miles. I felt like a fucking champ. I was trying to make it into Philly by friday to meet up with Cath, and though I did make it in, we didnt meet up that night. My friend Ben, from cleveland, hooked me up with his rad friends Nico and Caroline. I actually had a bedroom to myself, which I passed out at about 11p in and slept till 10am.
Saturday (today!)
Made breakfast. updated blog. gonna go get on with my day.
My fucking saddle sores are out of control. I need to rest up in a serious way. "um, I cant leave town right now, cause my ass is busted up"
Bag balm. vaseline. relief!
BONUS
Wanna make a motherfucking fish burrito? They fucking rule. I'll learn ya: this makes about two hella huge fish burritos
1 can of tuna. SOLID or CHUNK none of that shredded shit
1 Avocado
1 tomato
1/2 onion
giant burrito tortillas
lemon juice
salt
pepper
garlic salt or chopped garlic
earth balance, butter, oil, or whatever
1 bag of spinach\
hot sauce (I like red hot)
<1 cup of rice, I usually make it a cup at a time, but you dont need that much
Optional:
cottage cheese
refried or whole beans
1. Put yer rice on! You do know how to cook rice, dontcha?
2. cook yer damn fish! Squeeze all the juice out of the can of tuna, sear it with some butter in a big pan. I like to burn it a little bit. throw some lemon juice, salt + peppa, garlic in there
when it's about half way cooked add yer bag of spiznach, and the onion (diced)
3. fry yer tortillas! Just throw some butter on a pan, & cook that thang a little bit! then flip!
tortillas cook fast, your rice and fish is probably still cooking. put your avo and tomato (sliced) on your burrito, salt and pepper, then yer hotsauce and beans and cottage cheese (I guess you could use sour cream, I just hate it)
It's all cooked! Put it together and eat it! Fish burritos are probably my favorite thing. and super cheap!
Friday, September 3, 2010
Dont stop me now
I'm havin such a good time, having a ball.
First of all, let me tell you. If you've never taken amtrak before and are trying to measure it against greyhound, or any bus system- stop. Amtrak is the fucking bomb. There's food, there's booze, the seats recline, you can take smoke breaks. the people are all totally fucking nuts and the sound and motion of the train is a soothing as a lullaby. my only complaint is the temperature inside one of those things is like 30 degrees. I was so cold I couldnt sleep. The really really nice hippy lady next to me covered me with one of her extra layers though, so all was well. I was able to bring my bike on the train for FIVE FUCKING DOLLARS because I packed it myself, in my own bag. It cost me $300 goddamn clams to fly with my bike, and the airlines fucked it all up. Amtrak was gentle with my bike, and nothing was tweaked when I unloaded it.
Okay.
So I got into richmond at about 11p on tuesday night, I assembled my bike in the parking lot and then wheeled it behind some bushes at the adjacent building and went to sleep. Pretty shitty, but whatever.
Next day, I woke up at about 8, rolled my way downtown. My initial goal, as always, was coffee. I found a cafe, Crossroads, ordered my customary 4 shots, got a sweet discount. Awesome.
Sat down, nice punk guy asks me about my trip, if I need a place to stay. I did. He wrote down his info in my notebook and told me about the anarchist library called the Flying Brick. Then he called the guy who owns it to let him know I'd be coming over, and told me if I need anything to let him know. Guys, Tim Barry is the nicest guy ever. (!)
I went to a bike shop to pick up some odds n ends, they let me store my stuff there while I ran 30 miles of errands. nice!
I got my stuff back, headed to the brick, secured a place to stay.
I went back to crossroads, befriended the discount-giving barista, went on an all ladies bike ride with a group of really nice gals.
For lunch the next day, Liz, a girl I met on the ride, fed me some chicken curry. We made cookies! Went back to the brick, delivered cookies, rode around aimlessly. Went over to Tim's house with Robert from the Brick, sat around a nice bonfire, then had a good night's rest.
I've had a really good time in Richmond. I'm starting to get back in the rhythm of this thought process. Today I'm going to try not to devote all of my time preparing for tomorrow. Tomorrow I'm leaving.
I'll be in D.C. by monday, very very most likely.
First of all, let me tell you. If you've never taken amtrak before and are trying to measure it against greyhound, or any bus system- stop. Amtrak is the fucking bomb. There's food, there's booze, the seats recline, you can take smoke breaks. the people are all totally fucking nuts and the sound and motion of the train is a soothing as a lullaby. my only complaint is the temperature inside one of those things is like 30 degrees. I was so cold I couldnt sleep. The really really nice hippy lady next to me covered me with one of her extra layers though, so all was well. I was able to bring my bike on the train for FIVE FUCKING DOLLARS because I packed it myself, in my own bag. It cost me $300 goddamn clams to fly with my bike, and the airlines fucked it all up. Amtrak was gentle with my bike, and nothing was tweaked when I unloaded it.
Okay.
So I got into richmond at about 11p on tuesday night, I assembled my bike in the parking lot and then wheeled it behind some bushes at the adjacent building and went to sleep. Pretty shitty, but whatever.
Next day, I woke up at about 8, rolled my way downtown. My initial goal, as always, was coffee. I found a cafe, Crossroads, ordered my customary 4 shots, got a sweet discount. Awesome.
Sat down, nice punk guy asks me about my trip, if I need a place to stay. I did. He wrote down his info in my notebook and told me about the anarchist library called the Flying Brick. Then he called the guy who owns it to let him know I'd be coming over, and told me if I need anything to let him know. Guys, Tim Barry is the nicest guy ever. (!)
I went to a bike shop to pick up some odds n ends, they let me store my stuff there while I ran 30 miles of errands. nice!
I got my stuff back, headed to the brick, secured a place to stay.
I went back to crossroads, befriended the discount-giving barista, went on an all ladies bike ride with a group of really nice gals.
For lunch the next day, Liz, a girl I met on the ride, fed me some chicken curry. We made cookies! Went back to the brick, delivered cookies, rode around aimlessly. Went over to Tim's house with Robert from the Brick, sat around a nice bonfire, then had a good night's rest.
I've had a really good time in Richmond. I'm starting to get back in the rhythm of this thought process. Today I'm going to try not to devote all of my time preparing for tomorrow. Tomorrow I'm leaving.
I'll be in D.C. by monday, very very most likely.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Friday, August 21, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Friday, May 1, 2009
Even though it's raining today, this week has felt like one of the greatest.
Within this week I have-
Made caramelized bacon cupcakes for my roomate's birthday.
Bought the most amazing bicycle.
Constructed a slingshot.
Honed deadly slingshot target skills.
Got a free doughnut from some guy in a van.
Bought three boxes of strike anywhere matches and learned to light them off my teeth.
Got an SF library card.
Received a friendly anonymous note on my bicycle.
Checked out the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack and listened to 'Stayin Alive' over and over and over.
Within this week I have-
Made caramelized bacon cupcakes for my roomate's birthday.
Bought the most amazing bicycle.
Constructed a slingshot.
Honed deadly slingshot target skills.
Got a free doughnut from some guy in a van.
Bought three boxes of strike anywhere matches and learned to light them off my teeth.
Got an SF library card.
Received a friendly anonymous note on my bicycle.
Checked out the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack and listened to 'Stayin Alive' over and over and over.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Monday, April 6, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
fricken
Hello,
My name is Bobby ***** and Im a reporter with the Wall Street Journal. I recently read how you’re looking for a tree to build a house in and was curious about whether you’ve been successful at your efforts. I would love to chat about the issue for a possible story on your interesting choice in housing. When you get a chance give me a call at *** *** ****
This is the second reporter to contact me. This thing will totally happen.
My name is Bobby ***** and Im a reporter with the Wall Street Journal. I recently read how you’re looking for a tree to build a house in and was curious about whether you’ve been successful at your efforts. I would love to chat about the issue for a possible story on your interesting choice in housing. When you get a chance give me a call at *** *** ****
This is the second reporter to contact me. This thing will totally happen.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
hella!
Still in Oakland. I'm looking into a room, trying to find a job, & riding graffiti bikes all over yr face.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
benevolent interenet stalking at the library makes me super paranoid of discovery
You guys, it's been like 75 degrees here all week. Good weather for riots...
A cop called me a hipster yesterday. What the devil?
A cop called me a hipster yesterday. What the devil?
STILL NEED A TREE
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
still rabidly pursuing tree house dreams. People in my physical proximity are becoming annoyed because all I talk about is building platforms and joists and lag screws and how AWESOME my tree house will be and on and on. I cant even sleep. I've found a couple carpenters willing to help me, & I'm slooooowly circling closer to finding a tree. When I build my tree house, I might die of happiness.
Guys, the bay area is fucking awesome. I really dont even know how to put it to you, cause it just kind of creeps along and then WHAM out of your quiet satisfaction you realise... San Francisco's crazy ass urine filled streets are BEAUTIFUL and all the crazies in berkeley are AWESOME and all the hyphy kids in oakland are MAGNIFICENT and no one looks askant at your rattail which is soooo looooong and everyone EVERYONE rides bikes and I wear shorts every day and life for me is free and mellow.
I have a library card.
The beer out here is good.
I'm a minor character in a play. I am a rabbit butoh dancer.
I had a dream that I got a tattoo of a dolphin wrapped in bacon. I might make this dream a reality.
Happy new year!
Guys, the bay area is fucking awesome. I really dont even know how to put it to you, cause it just kind of creeps along and then WHAM out of your quiet satisfaction you realise... San Francisco's crazy ass urine filled streets are BEAUTIFUL and all the crazies in berkeley are AWESOME and all the hyphy kids in oakland are MAGNIFICENT and no one looks askant at your rattail which is soooo looooong and everyone EVERYONE rides bikes and I wear shorts every day and life for me is free and mellow.
I have a library card.
The beer out here is good.
I'm a minor character in a play. I am a rabbit butoh dancer.
I had a dream that I got a tattoo of a dolphin wrapped in bacon. I might make this dream a reality.
Happy new year!
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!
I just got the settlement from the accident last year, & I have a dream.
I want
to build
a tree house.
To live in.
In the bay area.
I have the resources & tenacity to do this, but.. I need a tree.
My brain is hurting itself trying to figure out how I can convince someone to let me build a beautiful arboreal abode on their property.
If ANYONE has ANY connections to property owners or crazy old hippies in berkeley, oakland, or SF, PLEASE let me know.
Jon Eckerle, I am looking at you especially.
my heart feels like it will explode. Not only would this provide me with a simplistic living space that I could build with my own hands, but I could reliably shape it to my needs, come and go as I please, build it out of mostly reconstituted materials, experiment with alternate uses for urban space, but.. I mean, I'd get to living in a freaking tree house! It would be amazing!
help advice encouragement please please please.
Thanks!
happy holidays
Love,
Cari
I just got the settlement from the accident last year, & I have a dream.
I want
to build
a tree house.
To live in.
In the bay area.
I have the resources & tenacity to do this, but.. I need a tree.
My brain is hurting itself trying to figure out how I can convince someone to let me build a beautiful arboreal abode on their property.
If ANYONE has ANY connections to property owners or crazy old hippies in berkeley, oakland, or SF, PLEASE let me know.
Jon Eckerle, I am looking at you especially.
my heart feels like it will explode. Not only would this provide me with a simplistic living space that I could build with my own hands, but I could reliably shape it to my needs, come and go as I please, build it out of mostly reconstituted materials, experiment with alternate uses for urban space, but.. I mean, I'd get to living in a freaking tree house! It would be amazing!
help advice encouragement please please please.
Thanks!
happy holidays
Love,
Cari
Friday, November 14, 2008
whistle tips go woo wooooooooooo
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
suffragette city
hey man! Leave me alone!
or come to the museum of modern art with me today. For free!
or come to the museum of modern art with me today. For free!
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