Thursday, June 14, 2001

Agent Orange!

6.2.2k1

I may have mentioned that I ride my bike to work and that I try not to be distracted by things that I encounter on the ride, but perhaps I haven't. I do, though; I try to keep my eyes, ears and mind on the road. Some have called me crazy for riding a bicycle on the streets of San Francisco. Others expressed disbelief that anyone actually tries - what with the condition of the streets and the near militant drivers. Most urged and continue to urge me just to be careful, damn it! I take their advice and try to be careful and ride defensively and concentrate. Sometimes that just don't work. Witness ...

• Goddamn sinkhole develops in the middle of Hyde street and almost sucks me in. A miraculous, record-setting bunny-hop over it saved me from tumbling into the nether-regions of the subterrainian Tenderloin. Counting my blessings for my lightning-fast reflexes and catlike manuvering abilities I thought briefly of the alternate outcome: Spiraling down, down, down. A chilling thought shot through my head: What with the state of the cro-mags that inhabit the surface of the Tenderloin one might guess the hideousness that awaits the hapless sinkhole victim below. One imagines the "Morlocks" from Wells' The Time Machine, but these subsurface beasts are strung out on dope! Oh heavens! To escape such a fate!

•• The consequence of this daydream: Almost plowing into the deadbeat crossing against the light.

• "I'll be damned if that guy doesn't look like my dad." South of Market on 8th and Harrison, there's a white-haired gentleman wearing a suit and tie and Ray-Ban Wayfarers. He's over 6 feet tall and he's walking with a purpose. Could be my dad except for a few factors: This beanpole weighs in at about a buck-thirty while pop weighs more like a buck-oh ... I don't know ... a buck-oh-more-than-thirty. 200? 180? Somewhere around there. Also, I know it ain't him because in my father's own words: "I ain't going to Shakey Town." So, yeah, it couldn't be him. We meet him in Tahoe when he's "in the area."

•• The consequence of this daydream: I'm almost clipped by a van from that French public toilet outfit that has an office right there on 8th. Woulda seen it pulling out if I hadn't been proving why that guy wasn't my dad.

• "This frikkin' police escort ever gonna end?" Right in front of me, a dozen cop motorcycles turn right onto State Street from westbound Division Street. Sirens blaring. Followed hotly by three or four cop cars. Then the black Suburbans, more squadcars and trailing motorcycles. I'm stuck at the intersection. Some joker politician or foreign dignitary must be checking into the Ambassador East. An eternity of cops later and the last copcar goes throught he intersection. "Finally," I'm thinkin' to myself. I put my head down and go.

•• The consequence of this distraction: Bam! Right into the rear bumper of that last copcar that - um - stopped in the middle of the intersection! Rode right up on front wheel - spilling it onto the cop trunk. What the hell? I thought the guy was gonna keep goin' and I was gonna get me a po-leese escort. Nope. I got a dirty look from the Chicago PD. The look said, "Get the fuck off my trunk, asswipe. Here, let me help you." He hit the gas and, yeh, I got off his trunk. (Okey, so this is a Chicago story, but it illustrates what might happen if you let yourself get distracted on them mean 'ol streets.)

Tonight: Dylan's

News: Ah, hell. I don't know if the Mailing List works or not. Here is a (censored) list of those subscribed:

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Tonight's Dramatic Reenactment: Chef falls asleep twice while viewing Pearl Harbor! The hour and a half of the shitty love story preceding the battle scene had too little to hold poor Cheffy's attention and he dozed off! Upon waking, he asked his date if he had missed the battle scene yet. "Not yet," said his date. Later, halfway through the forty-minute battle scene ... Chef fell asleep again! What a movie! Our Players: Chef's date plays Chef and Chef plays his date (a little role-reversal here); Loretta, Alan, Dee and Jason play the other (disappointed for wasting three hours of their lives) moviegoers; Moss, Bruce, Jeremy, Sally, Tama and John Metsker reenact the shitty movie (a little reenactment within a reenactment here).

Tonight's Singled-out List Member: Bercesty! Hello there Miss Relocated-to-South-California!

Porn Title of the Week: Spankenstein (Longtime List Member Tama, in her capacity at work, comes across hundreds of porn movie titles weekly, and graciously shares her fav of the week with the Club!)

Ah, hell. It's great out tonight. Why not come out and discuss mp3 sharing or whatever with the other lovely List Members. I know I will. See you there! bye-ee!

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