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Hawaii Trip, day four: 3/28/07 (part 2)

Stingray — Wed, 13 Feb 2008 02:24:30 GMT

[if you're reading "most recent first" you should read part 1, then read this one] At the airport in Kona, I resolved to get a rental car. It was a long way to Hilo, and hitchhiking didn't seem as feasible an option here on the Big Island. I called the first company on the first list I saw, and one-way rentals were indeed available. At the counter, I struck up a conversation with Jasmine while she took care of getting me a Jeep. We agreed with each others' basic philosophy of life, that we are exactly where we're supposed to be and the best thing to do is to always look for the positive in our situation and make connections with people. Jasmine already seemed really happy, and for some reason it felt great talking to her. I left in the Jeep and started driving north, not really wanting to sleep in Kona that night. At first I just started looking around and seeing my environment, looking for perhaps a beach or inn or something. I stopped, plugged my phone into the MP3 player jack on the radio and started rocking to some Crystal Method. I sped up. I was hyped. I yelled my pleasure from the open windows. High on music and freeway speed and technology, I did something that I probably should not have done. I remembered that I had an Internet-equipped phone and started using it to look for a hotel. At first, I rationalized, I was just looking at the map. Then, I started doing area searches for hotels, then firing up Google and looking up phone numbers and reviews. I started making phone calls. I completely struck out at first, but kept doing it. Instead of looking for a beach to camp, I turned inland towards where many little hotel icons were glowing on the phone's screen. It was getting dark. I drove until it was dark and raining and could not get a room by using maps, Internet and telephone. I stopped by a couple of places, but the offices were closed by now. Finally, I realized I had screwed up. Instead of what had worked for me so far- asking people for advice, or keeping my eyes open for a camp site before dark - I'd switched over to a habitual pattern of relying on technology and planning out my life. In a parking lot next to a gas station, I turned off the phone and put it down, and focused for a moment on being positive and happy. After all, here I was with a nice Jeep and tunes in the middle of Hawaii. I didn't have a room, but so what? I got out of the vehicle and walked towards the gas station. As I walked inside the attached convenience store, an older woman exclaimed, “Oh! Wow! Aren't you that guy from American Idol?” I laughed and struck up a conversation with her and the cashier. I explained my situation to the young lady working the register, making it clear that nothing could really ruin my day, and it wasn't an emergency, but if she could tell me somewhere to sleep where I wouldn't likely be messed with, that would be great. She told me about a park a few blocks away where it was okay to go at night. Saved! This made me realize something about staying “in the flow” - So far on my trip, I had been keeping my eyes open for opportunity, making contact with people, and keeping a positive attitude, and everything had been working out. But when I tried to make more detailed plans for myself and use the 'net instead of just looking around, I no longer had the advantage of just "feeling out" where to go. I couldn't do both at the same time. And I realized what I had learned: human contact and keeping one's eyes open are key to maintaining the flow. And while technology is good for a lot, like rocking out, it doesn't usually help in achieving this sort of connection with reality.

Hawaii Trip, day four: 3/28/07 (part 1)

Stingray — Wed, 13 Feb 2008 02:13:49 GMT

[Ladies and gentlemen! It's been almost a year since I posted the first three days of my Hawaii story, so I figured I should edit and post the rest of my Hawaii trip. 2 more posts right here and one more when I finish it!] I didn't get up at the crack of dawn, but enjoyed sleeping in a bit in a real bed. The plan was to get started early to the “Seven Sacred Pools” (a name recently invented by some tourism marketing genius). At about 10 miles out of town, I could maybe arrange a ride with another tourist early in the morning, or I could hitchhike there and leave early enough that I could walk all the way back to Hana if I really had to. By the time I headed for the pools, it was 10:30. I checked out of my room and went to the fancy hotel next door, where I arranged for a shuttle to the Hana airport and left my backpack. I hit the road with a four pack of cold (not for long) beer and a big slice of pineapple. At the edge of town, I thumbed the first of two rides to the pools. Upon arrival, I donated three of my four beers to the ranger (!) and he graciously opened the fourth for me and offered me a paper bag to put it in as I walk. The pools weren't accessible because it was raining in the mountain and the water level was dangerous (besides they were all muddy runoff). So I just got a picture, ate my pineapple, was amused by woodland creatures near the park bench, and endeavored to get a ride back. I had just time to walk the whole way if I did some minor foot damage. But I got a ride, and since they weren't going all the way to Hana, I had them drop me off at a waterfall along the way. I'm not sure exactly how the next part happened. I either looked at the time and made a drastic miles/time miscalculation, or I just lost track of time while hanging out. But suddenly I became aware that I was late and I might not make it back to the hotel in time if I didn't get a ride at least part of the way. I took off walking at a good clip, and none of the many passing cars picked me up. One open Jeep full of laughing 20 year olds was driving a bit close to the side of the road, forcing me (probably unintentionally) into the mud at the side of the road- they laughed as they snapped my photo while passing! I sort of thought that was rude, but had to admit it was also kind of funny. A couple miles later I started to feel upset. I had to be at the hotel in a little over an hour and I figured I was at least six miles away. I can run, but not that far. Plus now I was starting to look sweaty, and that pretty much sealed it – nobody was going to pick me up. With no cell phone service this far out of Hana, there was no way even for me to call the charter company and beg them to wait or reschedule. I took a step back from the situation. Worst case, I blew $LOTS on a charter flight that I was about to miss. With no available commuter flights, I'd have to spend lots more to make it to Hilo on the Big Island in time for my flight back to the mainland, or I'd have to stay longer and get another flight back home. How bad was that? Just an expensive mistake. I started to calm down and consider other options. I was walking through an area with a lot of houses. Maybe I could ask someone for a ride? Well, I thought, the kind of person who gets a house out here probably doesn't want to be bothered... That's when I came around a corner and saw local resident “Billy” walking down the street on the other side. I caught up and said hello, and we started talking – he seemed quite amused at my plight, or rather, my presentation of it, and agreed to help. And suddenly, instead of being in a hurry, I had a ride arranged and an hour to kill. We talked as we walked, and he told me that he was going to paint my picture because I am interesting. Just down the road, he hopped a gate- said he had permission to be there and I was his guest, so naturally I followed. We walked down the hill to a beautiful view of three little peninsulas, and out onto the middle one. Billy had me stand in this one spot – a little patch of grass that I think he placed on this rock – where watching the waves come in creates a whole-body feeling of motion. I stood and experienced this for a little bit. He said he was naming this spot “the Chebar Peninsula” and he further insisted that I stand up my stick on it and say something to claim it for my own. So I did, claiming the peninsula for Mars, or wherever I was really from. As we walked back up to the street he told me how the area around Hana was a place where a lot of people come to hide out, like Oprah who has a ranch just down the street. And he started telling me about Ashiya, his wife. “This woman you are about to meet,” he said, “it's just that she is so full of the Aloha Spirit,” and this is true. He also said that Ashiya was having a problem with the order entry system for a website she was working on and was stuck and how he had just been thinking about how they were going to try to solve this problem as he walked. I was happy to inform him that problems of this nature are one of my specialties. At Billy's house, he showed me his paintings. His art was not easy or especially pleasant; it was challenging, with strange faces, pointy teeth and twisted perspective; it was also deep. He felt that I could best understand some pieces by having a little explanation. One painting in his studio that particularly stuck in my head was his beautiful young wife, holding him in the ocean. He was apparently dead. He talked about Spring-December romance, and how Ashiya could not swim so when they would go to the ocean she would be on his shoulders, practically drowning him. Who is saving who in this painting? It was called “Resurrection.” I wish I could show it to you. He was delighted at the fact that I thought and talked with him about the meanings and symbols and when Ashiya came out, he said, “look, I am showing my art to someone who is intelligent and they get it!” Billy showed me several of his paintings. One was a woman with a gun on her belt crawling with a weed whacker behind her. He had showed it to a psychologist who'd explained to Billy how fucked in the head he was. “The recurring open mouth with pointed teeth,” he said, “indicates a castration complex. The weed whacker is obviously a phallus, and its line or ejaculate pointed at her rear represents suppressed homosexual tendencies. The gun on the woman's belt pointed backwards at the machine was supposedly genius,” Billy went on, recounting the psychologist's analysis. “Me, I was just happy that I drew the proportions of the gun correctly so it looked like a gun,” said Billy. “Who do you think was really more fucked up, him, or me?” And I laughed. “South Maui Haoles” is one of Billy's paintings which he gave me on a postcard. When he handed it to me, I immediately said, “Oh, that is cute.” He said that nobody had ever responded that way. He suggested that I put it up somewhere in my new office and warned me that he figured it would really piss off feminists. Billy pointed out the amazing synchronicity that I was walking down the road trying to figure out how to get a ride, while he was walking down the same road thinking about how he would get a website technical problem fixed. So I sat down with Ashiya to help figure out the website problem. She was quick on the keyboard and we identified the problem right away. We almost fixed it too, but ran into a problem with the hosting company not running the script. I gave her a few ideas and my email address and told her if she didn't already have it working, I'd send her a fix within a couple days after getting home. Billy took my picture with her. He winked and told me to explain to all my friends that he was sharing his young wife with me in an old Hawaiian tradition. I wish he'd actually taken the picture of the pose that she did, when he told her, “no, no, now look really sexy!” Wow! We left him, and she drove me downtown. Even though she hadn't lived there long, she worked in town, and literally everyone we drove past on the street knew her; they all shouted her name or waved a greeting and she did the same. We still had time, so Ashiya took me to a park on the way to the airport, explaining the neighborhoods and some of the legend of the princess (see pictures...). I'll miss her and Billy, hope to keep in touch. (addendum – have kept in touch!) I made it to the airport with time to spare, and before I knew it I was flying to Kona in style.

You Put the Lime in the Corona

Stingray — Fri, 25 May 2007 19:46:57 GMT

This event happened a long time ago, but I was reminded of it last week when a vociferous coworker at a birthday lunch insisted on hearing a "most embarrassing moment" story. While it is rather deleterious to my reputation, the harm's done and I guess I can repeat it one more time. One evening, I attended an extended family & friends celebration at my buddy Norm's home. When I got there, the party was well underway, teeming with cousins and neighbors and cousins of neighbors and the like. I proceeded to the back yard to get myself a beer. I saw a cooler full of Corona, and someone had been nice enough to slice up some limes on the table nearby. I grabbed a beer at almost precisely the same moment as a pretty young woman I'd never met, who was also just arriving at the party. She reached for a lime for her beer, but seemed a little tentative. So I thought I'd take the opportunity to give her some friendly beer drinking advice. "Yeah, Corona's better with lime. The best way to drink it straight from the bottle is to poke the lime through into the neck of the bottle," I said as I demonstrated. She followed along with her beer and lime. "Then," I continued, "you stick your thumb in the hole and turn the bottle upside down, so the lime will float up to the bottom of the bottle." The next thing I was going to say was this: "When you turn the bottle up again, remove your thumb slowly and carefully to release the pressure." But that's a lot of words, you know, and she was moving too fast. Before I could explain further, she had *rapidly* inverted the bottle, turned it back towards herself, and removed her thumb. The beer exploded violently. Fully half of the bottle flowed from her face down the front of her body. She was dismayed, and within a second or two she gave me a look of shock and confusion that I'll never forget. A friend of hers saw that something was wrong and began heading over. Okay, so here I am at my buddy's house. I just caused a woman to spray her first beer of the night all over her white shirt. Her friend is coming to see if she's okay. What would you do? Of course, you'd apologize, RUN to get her a towel, apologize more, and see if your friend's niece or sister can loan her a blouse. That's what I should've done. Instead, I collapsed to my knees, laughing uncontrollably. I couldn't speak. I tried to squeak out a "sorry," but it wouldn't come. Her eyes turned to daggers, as she began to firmly believe that I'd intentionally pulled a prank on her just to be mean. I wanted to explain. But first I would have to catch my breath... She left the party early. Before she did, I tried to talk to her and convince her it was all just a horrible accident, but she never completely believed me. For the record, I felt really awful that I had laughed instead of helping her. She mentioned the company where she worked, a solar power company in Berkeley, and so the next week I left a brief note of apology with the receptionist. I never saw her again. The End

Hawaii trip, day three: 3/27/07

Stingray — Thu, 29 Mar 2007 22:56:38 GMT

Today I got up at the crack of dawn – actually woke up to the sound of a cock crowing way off in the distance so I KNEW. I packed up quickly and got back on the road, still at least 5 or 6 miles from Hana which is a few more miles yet from actual downtown Hana. Luckily I passed an unattended fruit stand on the honor system, so I got an orange to tide me over. (see pic of cows and “welcome to Hana” sign, this was a couple hours before breakfast) I flagged down a cop as I was coming into town and turned over the purse and cards I'd found, encouraging the officer to try to contact Mattie's mother in Cupertino so she could get her stuff back as soon as possible. Around 9:45 I arrived downtown with very sore feet (no rides today), walked to the Hotel Hana Maui and right now I'm having breakfast at their restaurant. They were nice enough to let me chill and charge my laptop+phone for a bit while I wrote and ate. And OH MY GOD, the Kona coffee is so delicious. [On my third cup as I write]... The trip was really cheap so far – on day three I'd spent $80, and half of that was the cab fare to Paia. Next I wanted to get a room or locker or something and go swimming. I'd plan to stay one or two nights in Hana while I figure out how to get to the Big Island. Still had my fingers crossed that I would find a begoggled fellow who owns an open cockpit airplane in Hana. :-) 6 PM and there were only two bars in town and neither of them contained any obvious pilots. Oh well, I got a cheap little cottage near the beach, chartered a not-so-cheap flight with Maui Air and made plans to fly out the next day. I left a note on the bulletin board at the general store offering a nearly free flight to Kona or Kahalui – maybe that'll make me a nomadic friend. Meanwhile, food in town was good, but I decided since I had a kitchen, I'd cook dinner and breakfast. Not that this would really save me much money, but I'd have a surplus at least. Maybe I would find someone in town to come over for dinner with, as I had food for two or three extra people! And no worries about calories since I walked like 10 miles before breakfast. Names changed in this paragraph to protect the guilty. A week ago I asked “Bob” where his sister “Jane” lived because maybe I would visit her on the way. Bob had told me she was on the Big Island going to school, and sent me her phone number. A little research indicated to me that Jane was probably studying in Hilo at the University of Hawaii there, and so with a flight out of Hilo I expected probably get to hang out with her and her boyfriend “John” and have a drink. I called her and left a detailed voicemail with my itinerary. She called back and left an amused message stating that she lived in Honolulu Oahu nowhere near any of my destinations. When we spoke I made sure to tell her Bob had told me she was on the Big Island and she rightly pointed out that a lot of people confuse the two... [Hana has been pleasant; as I write this I'm pleasantly buzzed on overpriced but tasty cocktails with cute names like "Lava Flow." And so I spilled a decent amount of beer on the laptop keyboard just now, but responded quickly, inverting the system and drying with a towel. Will it keep working? I hope so...] The pretty bartender at the hotel told me where the trail to the old lighthouse peninsula started years ago, though it might be blocked today: down by the beach, just where I had guessed and seen what I thought was the start of a trail (“at your own risk!”). No guests for dinner; I invited a few people I met at the fancy hotel bar, but as expected they all declined in favor of the fancy hotel dinner they were getting ready to have. Their loss. The Alfredo-ish sauce I made was way delish. When I finished eating, I decided on going for a night hike with the headlamp and trying to find the old trail. Addendum: I didn't make it as far on that (somewhat frightening) trail as I originally planned, but also, I turned around and did not fall into the ocean and die. Also the laptop still works like a champ but if you put your nose right up to the Q key it still kind of smells like beer.

Hawaii trip, day two: 3/26/07

Stingray — Thu, 29 Mar 2007 22:47:07 GMT

Around 8 AM I started walking again. I walked probably 3 miles and came across the fruit stand at Twin Falls, where I happily had fresh coconut milk (right from the young coconut) and banana bread for breakfast. Twin Falls was also very nice (pic). I didn't feel like stashing all my stuff and going on the rope swing. An older woman who'd just done the swing saw me looking and thinking, and told me with a smile that if I didn't do it I was a chicken. She proceeded to make chicken sounds! Ha! I laughed, but left. I went back and hung out at the Twin Falls fruit stand and asked a couple of people for a lift, but didn't really expect one from there. They were almost all tourists with vans full of kids. A woman who was helping with the fruit stand balked at first when I asked for water for my bottle, but finally she came to the conclusion that it was okay for a human to give another human drinking water, even if she couldn't legally sell it at her stand! The teenage girl at the stand started crying while a lot of customers were waiting . She was counting money and seemed confused or distracted. I think she was overcome by emotion unrelated to what was going on at the moment. She was so beautiful and sad and I wanted to try to help, but I could not think of anything. She went out back and a couple of others came out to run the stand while she had her cry. When I saw her again a few minutes later with dry eyes and flushed cheeks, I felt a little helpless and silly wishing her a nice day as I walked away. Picked up a homemade chocolate and nut candy bar for dinner in case I didn't get anything else on the way (and I didn't). A little ways down the road, I got a ride a couple miles from Philip (have card), a white Buddhist handyman who had lived in 49 of the states and told me about his experiences hanging out with Moonies in California (didn't like em). He even suggested a monastery I could stay a night at on the Big Island, where he had lived for a while, and said to drop his name. As I write this I'm somewhere, next to one of many bridges. I should've been counting! I don't wanna dig out the map so I'll try and figure it out later. But I did walk around behind the bridge and sat under a big tree and wrote up to this point, and took pictures of some kind of large valve type device. On the road again. Around 4 PM I was walking along a bridge past mile 9. I looked down and saw a pink purse with plastic cards scattered all around in the slow moving stream far below. It looked to me like someone had thrown it off the bridge from the window of a moving car. I found a trail that seemed to lead down to the stream through thick bamboo. Someone had been through with a machete to carve a trail, but it had been a while. Halfway down, I took off my pack and stuff as I could not pass the trail with it on. I made it down to the stream, picked up all the stuff, and headed back. I made a mistake trying to get back on the narrow trail and couldn't find my way through the bamboo forest. Even though I could hear the road from where I was, I started to get frustrated and worried, having left all my stuff next to an easily accessible section of trail. So I started humming “Thank God I'm a Country Boy,” went back down to the stream, reoriented, and found my original route. Although I went ankle deep in mud at a couple of spots and nearly lost my hat, I made it back to the road dirty and unscathed. I walked some more miles, trying to get a ride. My feet hurt almost as much as my shoulders by now, but I was still having a great time and surrounded by beauty. “Keep on Truckin'” was the tune now stuck in my head. I didn't have to fake the big smile I gave to passing drivers as I stuck out my thumb. When they didn't slow down, I'd grin even bigger and turn the thumb into a “hang loose” sign. But when I had less than a couple of hours to dark, I started to get concerned. There wasn't much near the road for miles, and I thought I might have to hike into the jungle to set up my tent in a more safe place. Just then, an unlikely car picked me up – retired couple in a white rental sedan. They were staying on a cruise ship and the woman had left her purse at a cafe several miles outside of Hana. They said they had seen me on their first trip to Hana, hah! So they took happy me to within 10 miles of Hana and I started walking again. I made it a couple of miles. As it was starting to get dark, I realized I really didn't want to walk on the road at night, serving as mosquito bait and a dimly lit target for inebriated drivers. It was all private property next to the road, but as the sun went behind the hills I saw a grassy area to the side of the road with no fence. I got far enough from the road so it would be hard to see me at night. As I set up in a hurry while the bugs started buzzing, I marveled that I hadn't used a flashlight yet and had gotten in bed by dark two nights in a row, both behaviors quite unlike my usual camping habits. I ate my tasty homemade candy bar in the tent, and went to sleep...

Hawaii trip, day one: 3/25/07

Stingray — Thu, 29 Mar 2007 22:40:14 GMT

Anyone who has ever heard my alarm clock go off will probably testify that it would be very difficult to sleep through. So I probably got up at 6am and turned it off and went back to sleep without ever actually waking up completely. I puzzled over this for a moment when I woke up at 7:35 AM and stared at the clock for bit. My flight to Kahalhui Maui was at 9:35 AM. Hustle mode on – called a cab, gave myself just a little hit of panic-adrenaline, and jumped in the shower. Got to the gate just after they boarded my row, waltzed on to the airplane and was going before I knew it. My new laptop works great for movies, except the headphone output is too quiet; I watched Celestine Prophecy on the plane with closed captioning enabled. Kristen was right, it's not that good. But I enjoyed the book and the movie was true to it with a good message. (Almost watched in flight cartoon “Open Season”; glad I didn't – dreck.) In Maui, we had to wait on the plane for a very long time because the agricultural inspector wasn't there yet. There was a lot of moaning and groaning. I, however, was very amused by two cute babies looking at each other, and so was very patient. Walked up to the baggage carousel just as my bag came by, picked it up and walked outside. It took me 5 minutes to repack all my stuff into one backpack + one strap over shoulder. Walked back in and over to the information booth. There are a lot of tour buses to Hana but I did NOT want to go on a tour bus. I could've just rented a car or moped and pretended to get sick or something and ditched it in Hana, but I don't know what they'd charge me, and plus that just doesn't seem like an ethical way to do business. Anyhow I was hungry and don't like airports, so I called a taxi to Paia – would figure it out from there. #47 Jean showed up right away, and I was off! On the way to Paia, Jean told me she'd been in Maui for 6 years (she lived in Lake Tahoe before) and loves it. As we drove past all the cane fields and the one operating mill, she told me about them. She said they'd been burning the crops several times a year and while the local government was trying to get people to smoke 20 feet from public buildings, a doctor had come out and said that just a whiff of the smoke from those burning fields was like hundreds of cigarettes. We discussed environmentalism and farming and the like, and how alternative energy in Maui got kick-started by a small group of private investors who just put in windmills and started underselling the major utility company – who's generating power with diesel fuel or something similar from Shell. When I arrived in Paia, I went to Milagro for lunch at Jean's recommendation. While I was there I overheard a young woman say something to her companion which I found so ridiculously funny at the moment that I immediately pulled out a pen and wrote it down. Apparently they were talking about burials or funerals and she said, “I used to want to be cremated 'cause then I wouldn't burn in Hell.” I heard little of their conversation, but she was apparently referring to her teenage years. After lunch I went across the street to the hemp store looking for Sunshine. A sign said they did hair cuts too, and I needed one. Sunshine had left for Canada years ago, the guy said, and the woman who does hair cuts would be back in November. The surfer-styled clerk gestured at his own long hair held back by sunglasses on his head, and shrugged. I got a hat (haircut no longer needed) and a lighter. My first thought was to get to the beach and get on the road to Hana. As I started to walk down I realized that if I didn't go try to acquire transportation in Paia right then, I would not want to backtrack my route later. But I did want to go to the beach right away, and didn't really want to deal with finding a car rental place or bus or whatever. So I simply started walking east on the highway. A mile or two down the road I came across a little beach. As I walked up, I smelled and then saw a couple locals smoking some weed. It's another story, but one of these guys, an old haftoofless fellow named Nele (but I think of him as Uncle Lenny the Tweaker) managed to steal my lighter and flipped out angry-tweaker-style when I refused to buy a handful of fresh picked uncured wet “Maui Wowie.” It looked like he just grabbed a handful off a plant in someone's field, if it was really even weed in his grubby hand. Uncle Lenny the Tweaker was totally marshing my hellow and I left. A bit up the road I walked into a convenience store. I wasn't sure where I was gonna stay, probably a beach, but I wanted a beer and munchies for the walk. A girl was talking to the clerk, and walked out first. She was still in the parking lot and greeted me as I was walking out, so I asked for a ride. Her old pickup truck had only one seat belt connector. She offered it to me and I insisted she should use it. Her name was Jennifer (almost) and as we went she said she'd moved out here from CA six years ago when she could no longer afford to live there, and had been offered a care-taking job. Her husband the musician did much of the work, and she also worked as a line cook for breakfast and lunch at Milagro. She remarked that she really loved working there. I thought she looked familiar, maybe I saw her there when I had lunch! When I told Jennifer what I was up to, she smiled in reaction and said, “kiss me,” in between some other things she was saying. I thought I had misheard her, and most likely I gave her a quizzical confused look. She repeated – “I said kiss me,” but not in a sultry way, just very relaxed and mellow-stylie. So I immediately leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek while she drove. She smiled and laughed and told me, “you'll get by just fine in Maui!” She dropped me off outside of Haiku. I walked down the road and explored a sustainable community development project I saw on the coast while I drank my beer. Just as I was starting to wonder where I would stay that night, I ran across some local kids walking the other way. We stopped and talked for a few minutes. Brad (close) and Gabriel were their names and I think they were brothers. They gave me a guava (“almost ripe!” - that and some peanuts made a fine dinner that night) and a couple of Starburst candies and a lighter, and told me a place I could camp near a lake just up the road. I had to hop a locked gate to get there, but they said I probably wouldn't get in any trouble; they were just coming from hanging out there. It rained all night, but I was too warm to zip up the sleeping bag. Did I mention I love the weather here? I stayed pretty dry, and didn't get in any trouble, and it was beautiful. I washed up in the lake come morning. See pictures, apparently it was “Haiku Rebelz” territory. :-) A guy with keys to the gate came by in the morning in a Jeep; I told him I was just sheltering for the night and was on my way out. He thought about it for a moment, then said, “I guess it's not a problem.” Did I mention I love the people here?

aloha, baby

Stingray — Wed, 21 Mar 2007 07:18:33 GMT

Since January, a series of things happened to me; each one made me think and look at the world a little differently. Somewhere in the middle of this, I decided I ought to quit my job, as it wasn't inspiring me any more and that was no longer acceptable. Maybe I'll post the whole story once I can get all the little bits straight in my head, but to put it briefly, my life has changed for the better. To some degree, who I am has changed. Old and new friends were catalysts, and I thank everyone in my life for their part in making me who I am today. Meet the new and improved Chebar Ivan Cooper. (that's "K'var" or KAY-bar) Anyhow... Friday is my last day at work, so I'm gonna go to Hawaii. I fly to Kahului (Maui) Sunday morning, and back home from Hilo (Hawaii) on Friday, therefore I'm hoping I can find a crazy drunken biplane pilot to fly me from Maui to the Big Island some time in the middle of the week. I've never been to Hawaii! Very exciting. No hotel reservations or anything - I think I'll bring a tent and plan to camp, stay at hostels and hang out with people instead of going resort stylie. Any tips for me? Meanwhile, what are you (yeah, you) doing this Saturday? Come by "Alchemy" at the California Modern Art Gallery, and invest yourself in False Profit's latest creative initiative -- http://www.false-profit.com/2007/03/24/alchemy/

A lovely night at the theatre

Stingray — Sat, 17 Mar 2007 00:51:32 GMT

I had the pleasure last night of attending the opening night performance of "H 3-D: The True Tale Of The Haddonfield Babysitter Murderer" at the Xenodrome in San Francisco. This amazing drama from thespian ensemble "The Primitive Screwheads" captures the horror - and selfless bravery - from the true story of the famous babysitter murders. One thing I really liked about this rendition was the bold choice in narrative style, allowing the audience to truly see the differing perspectives of the idealized representatives of law and mental care. Perhaps this is an allegory of the everyday American man's battle to reconcile artificially institutionalized authoritarianism with the reality of human frailty? In any case, combined with engaging performances from the entire cast, the resulting experience is an emotional joyride, a dramaturgical carnival for the senses. On top of it all, the lighting, special effects and set design really made me feel as though I was right there in a small town in Illinois (just as it would be recreated in a tiny low-budget community theater). Our own Julie Antti provided a "totally" hot performance, although I can't tell you what really happens to her in her transformative role as PJ -- you'll just have to go see it for yourself. The show is playing through next weekend. For more information: http://www.primitivescrewheads.com/2006/currentshows.htm P.S. Cast members may sit in your lap when scared or dead, and you will definitely get completely drenched in fake blood.

Thank you, I'll be here all week

Stingray — Thu, 22 Feb 2007 01:49:14 GMT

copied from Holly D... Have you ever killed another living thing? Not including insects. ...One time a black cat ran out in front of my car on a dark road and got squashed. But it might've been suicide. What was the first song you ever sang along to on the radio? ...I think it was "Operator (That's Not the Way It Feels)" by Jim Croce What type of music do you absolutely hate? ...Easy listening. Where was your last vacation? ...BRC 2006 If your life was a movie, who would be the director? Who would play you? ...Tim Burton ...DJ Qualls Who is your favorite superhero? ...The Batman Who is your favorite Marx Brother? ...uhhh... Karl! Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly? ...Astaire, I guess. If you were safely barricaded in your house during the zombie wars, and you had run out of food, would you eat your pet? ...They're only goldfish. But yes, I would. Perhaps with a nice Chianti. Furry rodents - love them or loathe them? ...Generally love em. (But NOT the yiffing kind.) If you had to choose one decade of fashion to wear on a daily basis, which would it be? ...2060-2069. I dunno either, but I'll take my chances. If I actually had to do this I'd sort of hope global nudism hadn't caught on by then. You can afford either a book or a meal. Which would you spend the last of your pocket money on? ...umm, how about a bus ticket to somewhere I can get a job? Shrilly laughing children (other than your own) - annoying or endearing? ...after being exposed to musical influences such as M.A.S.O.N.N.A., I can handle at least 4 or 5 minutes of ear-splitting demonic screams before I crack. Knitting or crochet? ...croquet maybe. Can you name the seven deadly sins? The four cardinal virtues and three theological virtues? ...gluttony, lust, pride, greed, sloth, envy, wrath... and no. If you could ask any one person a question, whom and what would you ask? ...I dunno. You've just won an oscar and you have 5 seconds for your speech - GO: ...I'd like to thank my friends, my family, and a few people out there who are making a difference like "DVD Jon" Johansen and the new guys out there responsible for cracking the encryption on HDDVD and Bluray discs for consumer freedom. And to Jack Valenti, I'd just like to say, screw you, buddy. Thanks very much and have a wonderful night.

aaand more broken glass

Stingray — Sat, 03 Feb 2007 03:56:04 GMT

Man, it really seemed like a long day. I came straight home from work, turned out the lights and lay myself down in hopes that my growing headache would subside and maybe I would do something fun tonight. I was disturbed by a loud THUNK that sounded like it was coming from my living room, so I got up. I'm thinking perhaps my laptop bag slid off the couch, or something. I didn't see anything that might have made that sound. So I went to lie down again. A minute later, I heard an even louder noise accompanied by the pretty tinkle of broken glass. I got up again and looked around. There was a brick sitting on my kitchen floor. Because of the sound that preceded it by a full minute or so, I suppose he missed the window on the first try, then left and came back to try again. Thanks, asshole. Oh, and your aim sucks. Ha!

five cents, please

Stingray — Mon, 22 Jan 2007 22:49:39 GMT

this is the dream I had last night, which I'm sharing with you. I was lounging with a friend, and we were watching something funny on television. it was getting late, and my friend said with a yawn and a laugh that it was time to go to sleep. so I got up and went to another room, which I understood to be my bedroom. the lights were on. the sliding closet door opposite the bed was open, and half-inside it was a simple wooden structure rather resembling Lucy van Pelt's "psychiatric help 5¢" booth. propped up behind the structure was a life-sized doll. its head was white styrofoam, like you might see in a wig shop, with dark sunglasses and a drawn-on mouth, and it was attached to the body with something like a hook and some twine. the torso appeared to be a pillow. the arms and legs were like stuffed stockings with socks over the ends, and it had no knees or elbows. the hands were un-stuffed flat white gloves, pinned or tied to the end of the arms. tied to the left arm was a wooden scimitar. I wasn't surprised to see it. I had apparently put it there myself a long time ago. I thought with amusement that it was close enough to lifelike to give someone else quite a fright if they walked in while it was dark. but it didn't scare me. it had slid down a little bit behind its booth and was in an awkward position. I started to remove its gloves, wanting to replace the white cloth gloves with fingerless ones for some reason. while doing this, I reached in to pick it up and adjust its position. that's when it started fighting me. my arms entwined in its, we began wrestling, and I felt myself being pushed back as it stood up behind the booth. fear came quickly. holding the creature about the torso and by one arm, I swung it around and tried to pin it, but it resisted. we were locked in a pose like Delacroix's "Lutte de Jacob avec l'Ange". I struggled to push it down, but felt it grow stronger as I fought harder for control. its wooden scimitar on a string was behind me, and though it had no edge, I feared I would fall onto its point. then I thought to myself, this thing has no strength, no mind, it cannot be fighting me. I started to think that maybe I was controlling its moves with my own arms wrapped around it, swinging it about like the rag doll it was - fighting myself. I tried to surrender, but it grabbed me harder. I helplessly felt my own arms tensing as the monster pulled me closer. there was nothing behind the sunglasses, but the eyes that weren't even there became narrow with malice. the square drawn on mouth didn't move, yet it became a vicious bare-teeth grin. I concentrated hard, relaxing my grip completely. I had to believe it had no power of its own, though I feared a little that I was wrong and this would be my last mistake. I felt the creature fall limp to the ground. its unchanging face seemed to betray defeat; the softness of my muscles met the same in its collapsed form. I sat there on my knees trying to understand, and then I woke up. we lend strength to our demons.

Everything I Want For Christmas

Stingray — Fri, 15 Dec 2006 02:15:05 GMT

by Ivan All material wishes I remembered (Plus batteries and cables for them all) I bought for myself in early December And didn't even once to go the mall These shiny gizmos surely will make me the envy of all geeky girls and boys I tore through all the packaging with glee (I never really got done having toys..) But now - I have ALL the stuff I desire There's really NOTHING left for you to buy And "gifts for the man who has ev'rything" Would not a man like me well satisfy I'm serious, no Hallmark, no Sharp'r Image no sweaters, no matter how splendid the sale Simply don't attend to the shopping scrimmage Go donate your money to save the whales Don't get me wrong, my dearest, my true friend There's much you could give, t'would bring me delight Your time, attention, a kind ear you'd lend A date with your friend, a fun movie night But if you found an object I'll really "need" Or past gifts you somehow want to "repay" And my request you simply must exceed ...you won't mind, when I sell it on ebay.

It's almost like you asked me a question or fifty

Stingray — Thu, 30 Nov 2006 23:09:26 GMT

1. When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought? need haircut. where coffee? ugh. 2. How much cash do you have on you? $168.35 3. What's a word that rhymes with "DOOR?"? Floor. On it. 4. Favorite planet? EARTH. If you like Jupiter better, why don't you just go there??? :) 5. Who is the 4th person on your missed call list on your cell phone? Myself, calling my cell phone from my home phone because I misplaced it. 6. What is your favorite ring tone on your phone? Right now I've got an excerpt from Orbital/S.A.T.A.N., but it's about time to make a new one - I'm thinking something from Carmina Burana. 7. What shirt are you wearing? Reddish polo shirt 8. Do you "label" yourself? Sometimes. Probably more than is really necessary, like most people. 9. Name the brand of your shoes you're currently wearing? umm.. checking... Merrell 10. Bright or Dark Room I often prefer dimly lit rooms. 11. What do you think about the person who took this survey before you? I think she's neat-o. 12. What does your watch look like? Thirty-seven hairs and two freckles. 13. What were you doing at midnight last night? Sleeping, oddly enough. 14. What did your last text message you received on your cell say? The last one that WASN'T from Google Calendar says "Where should we meet you for breakfast?" 15. Where is your nearest 7-11? Several blocks, I've only been there once. 16. What's a word that you say a lot? Indeed. 17. Who told you he/she loved you last? Mom. 18. Last furry thing you touched? K-LEE the roommate's dog 19. How many drugs have you done in the last three days? Five 20. How many rolls of film do you need developed? One, I think. Wonder where it is. 21. Favorite age you have been so far? Twenty-nine was great. I haven't adjusted to thirty yet. 22. Your worst enemy? Time. 23. What is your current desktop picture? Black. I never look at the desktop anyhow. 24. What was the last thing you said to someone? Nice job. 25. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to fly what would it be? Gee, I wonder, hmm let me think about it. (duhh..) 26. Do you like someone? Ayup. 27. The last song you listened to? Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi (Fortune, Empress of the World), by Carl Orff 28. What time of day were you born? Morning. Not going to go check my birth certificate for this. 29. What's your favorite number? Thirteen. Also one thousand and thirteen. 30. Where did you live in 1987? A trailer. 31. Are you jealous of anyone? No. 32. Is anyone jealous of you? Probably yes, but I bet they don't appreciate what they've got. 33. Where were you when 9/11 happened? At home in Lafayette. My friend called me to say OMG!!WTF?! 34. What do you do when vending machines steal your money? Shake them until they either give me my shit or fall over, fatally crushing me. 35. Do you consider yourself kind? Usually. 36. If you had to get a tattoo, where would it be? Probably shoulder or something like that. Although there's a lot of viable advertising space on the forehead.. 37. If you could be fluent in any other language, what would it be? Spanish 38. Would you move for the person you loved? If I had a person I loved, and she made up her mind to move, I might move too. But I would do it for myself. 39. Are you touchy feely? Usually not; I like to be but I am never sure when it will make someone uncomfortable and I do not desire to do so. 40. What's your life motto? Everyone does what they want to do. 41. Name three things that you have on you at all times? Phone/Money clip/Keys 42. What's your favorite town/city? Berkeley 43. What was the last thing you paid for with cash? Pack of one-twenty-fives. 44. When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper and mailed it? About two years ago, I sent the California Franchise Tax Board a letter telling them to screw off. 45. Can you change the oil on a car? Yes, but more often than not I pay someone else to do it for me. 46. Your first love: what is the last thing you heard about him/her? Many years ago, I heard she was still alive. 47. How far back do you know about your ancestry? Off the top of my head? Not far. But I think we have enough info to trace it back two or three hundred years on both sides. 48. The last time you dressed fancy, what did you wear and why did you dress fancy? Couple weeks ago I wore a nice blue suit and yellow shirt to work. Just to mess with their heads. 49. Does anything hurt on your body right now? Not yet, but my head's threatening to. 50. Have you been burned by love? Of course.

thirty four

Stingray — Thu, 16 Nov 2006 20:11:10 GMT

1. Yourself: Dynamic 2. Your girlfriend: Free 3. Your hair: Okay 4. Your mother: Serious 5. Your father: South 6. Your favorite item: Body 7. Your dream last night: Faded 8. Your favorite drink: Guinness 9. Your dream car: Electric 10. The room you are in: Cubicle 11. Your ex: Faraway 12. Your fear: Isolation 13. What you want to be in 10 years: Breathing 14. Who'd you hang out with last night: Friends 15. What you're not: Satisfied 16. Muffins: Yes 17: One of your wish list items: Sharing 18: Time: Insufficient 19. The last thing you did: Email 20. What you are wearing: Suit 21. Your favorite weather: Rain 22. Your favorite book: Fiction 23. The last thing you ate: Homemade 24. Your life: Interesting 25. Your mood: Hungry 26. Your best friend: TotalPimp 27. What are you thinking about right now: Construction 28. Your vehicle: Convertible 29. What are you doing at the moment: Introspection 30. Your summer: Hardcore 31. Your relationship status: Cautious 32. What is on your TV: Spider 33. What is the weather like: Gray 34. When is the last time you laughed: Yesterday

two words? why not

Stingray — Fri, 06 Oct 2006 04:56:54 GMT

1. Explain what ended your last relationship. not positive 2. When was the last time you shaved? yesterday, lazy 3. What were you doing this morning at 8 a.m.? waking up 4. What were you doing 15 minutes ago? sitting thinking 5. Are you any good at math? except homework 6. Your prom night? didn't go 7. Do you have any famous ancestors? don't think 8. Have you had to take a loan out for school? yes several 9. Do you know the words to the song on your myspace profile? eh whatever 10. Last thing received in the mail? probably bills 11. How many different beverages have you had today? coffee, water 12. Do you ever leave messages on people's answering machine? almost always 13. Who did you lose your CONCERT virginity to? pearl jam (opening for nirvana and the red hot chili peppers) 14. Do you draw your name in the sand when you go to the beach? sounds fun 15. What's the most painful dental procedure you've had? darvon's neat 16. What is out your back door? back yard 17. Any plans for Friday night? playing cards 18. Do you like what the ocean does to your hair? doesn't matter 19. Have you ever received one of those big tins of 3 different popcorns? stale yet? 20. Have you ever been to a planetarium? love em! 21. Do you re-use towels after you shower? even motels' 22. Some things you are excited about? bro's visiting 23. What is your favorite flavor of JELLO? green perhaps 24. Describe your keychain(s)? lil flashlight 25. Where do you keep your change? car, carpet 26. When was the last time you spoke in front of a large group of people? while back 27. What kind of winter coat do you own? motorcycle jacket 28. What was the weather lik on your graduation day? nice out 29. Do you sleep with the door to your room open or closed? either way

"No, no disassemble!" -Johnny 5

Stingray — Mon, 11 Jul 2005 19:53:35 GMT

No longer driving either of my cars. I lowered the price on the BMW (anyone want a perfect beautiful blue Bimmer 'vert for $9250?), and I don't want to drive it since it's *so* clean and pretty right now. And the bug... Well, I've been taking it apart. It seems that along each step I take, I stop to curse the name of the last person to do repair work on this vehicle. Remember how I mentioned the rear window was glued in with like 3 pounds of sealant? On removing the rear window and taking out the window frame, I discovered part of the reason why... the headliner and top were improperly attached to the window frame; this plus the three LAYERS of staples used to attach them probably made it impossible to get the window in properly. My hopes of cleaning and saving the headliner are dropping quickly as I discover decay around the edges. It might be restorable, but I'm not counting on it. A new one will cost about $100. Next, I took off the passenger side door panel. The first thing I noticed was two pieces of wood - 2x4s - jammed into the door panel. One of them was apparently intended as a window stop where the window would rest in its down position. It was screwed into the the door. *curses* The second thing I noticed is that the vapor barrier (just a thin sheet of plastic glued to the door behinf the door panel) was missing. It causes the water that comes in the window seal, etc, to drain out the bottom of the door, rather than towards the inside of the car. Apparently, the duffer who worked on this car last didn't know that. The fact that he tore out the barrier and didn't replace it explains the thoroughly rotted condition of the particle board door panels, and a little extra rust on the door sill. It's annoying, but I am going to make custom door panels anyhow so that part is no big deal. Speaking of rust, I keep finding new little spots but nothing structural. I'll know more in a few days but I think I can just sand and fill the spots I've seen so far without adding any new metal. Cross your fingers for me... Now, there has also been some rust and dent repair on the car already... but the bondo they used is about as smooth as if it was sanded with a hairbrush. This makes me suspect that the repairer might hav left some rust underneath the fiiller -- since I *know* how lazy they were. Ergo, I'm going to have to grind/chip it out and redo that too. At least I'll know it's done right! I was going to pay someone to do the bodywork, rust repair etc. But I decided to do it myself. This will save me money which I can possibly use towards getting a nicer paint job, and most probably I will learn something in the process too. Now, I've got a headache (which was announced by a scary visual distortion in one eye and is probably going to be a migraine shortly!) so I think I'm going home to rest up this afternoon. Lots of stuff to do in the evenings to meet my VW goals for this week, and my friend Colin is in town too so I'll be plenty busy! Join me next time as I get really good at doing rust and dent repair by hand, and beg to borrow your power tools. Till then, take good care of your car ... :-)

Needed: Esoteric Theme. Score!

Stingray — Sat, 09 Jul 2005 20:25:36 GMT

I wanted to keep a journal of, you know, stuff. I kept thinking, here is something that I experienced or thought which would make an interesting journal entry. But perhaps I'm just too private... I would find that I wouldn't want to write truly personal stuff if lots of people were going to read it, but if they weren't, what was the point? So I decided to narrow the subject matter to something that I always feel comfortable talking about - my VW bug. Now, if you're totally crazy, you can try to draw parallels between the restoration of my car and the deeper issues in my life. At this point, I can't tell you yet whether that would work or not. But I can say that when I got that engine running right, a feeling of all-encompassing well-being swept over me... The situation right now is this: I have two convertibles, a 1995 BMW 325i and a 1978 VW Super Beetle. I'm selling the BMW (at least trying to) so that I can pay off some debts and fund the "restoration" of the bug. (in quotes because I'm actually more like "fixing" and customizing it, not strictly "restoring"). The bug has a really long list of things that need attention. I replaced the rusted-out pan and managed to get the engine running well. I have been driving it around, but... * The convertible top was slashed, frame snapped in one place, rear window installed incorrectly (glued in with like 3 pounds of sealer) * Rubber seals decayed, leaks like a sieve * Some rust and dents on fenders, chrome, etc - needs bodywork, paint and trim * Interior, carpeting, insulation, seat belts etc all ripped out (okay, I did that, and it smells much better now) * Needs minor front-end work/partial rebuild * Clutch too loose; tranny synchronizers for 2nd gear worn down * Bumper mounts and bumpers damaged * Dozens of things like missing knobs, cracks in the dashboard, etc. * Definitely needs some bling, yo Today, I start by creating a work space and organized storage scheme, so that today or tomorrow I can begin disassembling the top and removing all trim and nonessential parts from the car. This is all in preparation for some minor bodywork and a fresh paint job inside and out. While the car's out getting that stuff done, I'll be working on the top. Someone asked me, where did you learn to do this stuff? The answer is simple: I NEVER DID AND I STILL DON'T REALLY KNOW. I have some tools, books, the Internet, and an old hippy VW mechanic guy that I can call if I really get stuck. But *most* importantly, I believe that I am capable of doing nearly anything I put my mind to. Stay tuned for more details, or don't... It's sure to bore the heck out of you, but maybe we'll learn something together. :-)

What the hell kind of memory card is that?

Stingray — Wed, 22 Jun 2005 07:37:19 GMT

Aww yeah. While luddites everywhere were giving up and buying iPod Shuffles, I finally found my old Sony Walkman and a stash of tapes. Today I listened to Live's Throwing Copper and Tori Amos's Under the Pink (probably the newest tape I own). But tonight I just found a variety box with, for example, two old school Public Enemy tapes, Zep's Coda, Best of the Doors, a few Madonna tapes (they were given to me, yo), Danny Elfman's 1984 "SO-LO" album, Eurythmics, Roy Orbison, Blondie... Fallout... all in the compact, relatively efficient and completely abandoned audio cassette format. There are some songs, like Love is Stronger Than Death by The The, where I listened to the tape so many times that I became familiar with the characteristics of my particular copy. Listening to it on a CD sounds weird because everything's so quiet in the background. And isn't there supposed to be a little warble right after the second chorus (where the tape stretched)? Wait, that's not part of the song? So, until I get me one of them fancy miniature electronical doohickeys, you know, with all kinds of megagigs of em pee three songs and all... I guess I'll just be stuck in the 60's-early 90's. While I'm there, anyone got some awesome mix tapes to loan me for the commute??? Yeah, even though I got my other car running alright (yay!), I'm still digging this whole not driving to work thing; taking the bike and BART means my whole commute is split between exercising and reading -- and perhaps some napping, if, say, I stayed up until like 12:30 writing some silly post the night before.

Dirty Work

Stingray — Tue, 21 Jun 2005 04:38:50 GMT

My VW is running again (for more than 15 minutes at a time). Hooray! When I figured out a few weeks ago that the fuel injection system was malfunctioning, I felt helpless; I didn't even understand the basics of fuel injection systems. But my mechanic friend Rick wouldn't help me with it until I went through the diagnostic procedures myself. Well, now I know how to build my own fuel pressure tester and check out the FI system on an old Volkswagen (or Porsche), so -- thanks for the kick in the pants, Rick. The problem was the fuel pump. Today, a few days after UPS delivered it to the wrong address, I finally had the new part in hand. Out of frugality, I had searched the net and ordered the cheapest fuel pump that was purported to work with my car. Imagine my surprise when I took it out of the box and found out that Autohaus Arizona had actually sold me a brand new Bosch pump -- an exact match for the original German part, not the generic knockoff I thought I had ordered. And it cost me $70 less than the imitations! At lunch time I had to run down to Kragen and get a new fuel filter too, and while I was there I saw that halogen headlights were on sale -- oooh... shiny. $30 later I was on my way with a much heavier backpack. Back at work, as usual, around 5:15 pm someone came up with some new emergencies for me. I didn't leave until 6:30 and the sun was mostly down by the time I got home. I have no working lights in my garage currently, and holding the flashlight in my mouth really made me wish I had more friends who live nearby. But after waiting this long to get the car running, I wasn't going to stop just because I couldn't see a damn thing! 5 minutes in, I figure out that I can use a discarded planter to catch gas when it drains out of the fuel hoses. 10 minutes later, the bushing mount for the fuel pump falls off the car along with the zip-tie that was apparently holding it in place before, causing me to roll over, bump into the planter and spill half of the gas directly into my hair. It's a good thing I like the smell of gas... But 20 minutes later: VRROOOM! I love a happy ending. It took me another 15 minutes to wash up and realize that I actually don't have anywhere to go right at the moment...

The Incredible Journey

Stingray — Sun, 19 Jun 2005 19:25:04 GMT

I went to go visit with Lucas, Kevin, Norm and James yesterday, to play the most awesome space battle board game ever (Twilight Imperium 3rd edition). It was epic and lasted late into the evening. After we were done, I hopped on my bike and rode down to the Pleasant Hill BART station on my way home. I was about two or three stops down the line when I realized why I'd been getting strange looks from people in the station and the woman sitting across from me. There was a very large snail sliming around on my water bottle. He must have climbed on while the bike was parked next to some bushes, and survived the ride to the station. On arrival at MacArthur station, I considered what to do about this. I could discard the snail like so much detritus, or perhaps leave him to a new home in the busiest BART station in Oakland. Well, it just would not do. He had already been through so much. I had power over this creature; I must at least allow him a chance for survival. So I began talking to him: "Little snail, hold on tight to that water bottle. We are going to the Promised Land." And I boarded the next train to Berkeley. When we arrived, a mile or so from my house, he was still hanging on. He'd kind of moved down to the side of the bottle, perhaps thinking he could effect an escape from the scariest damn tree he'd ever climbed in his life. I tried to warn him not to jump in the station or on the street. I encouraged him: "Hang on, little fellow. One more trial and you will reach the land of milk and honey." I rotated the water bottle in its holder so he was safe on top again. And I began the cold, quick ride home. As I rode into the street and accelerated downhill, I looked down to check on the snail. He was in the process of tucking as much of his body as he possibly could inside his shell as the night wind bitterly chilled him. There was nothing I could do about this, so I just tried to keep my pants leg from brushing him off as I pedaled. The whole way home I spoke to him, encouraging him that a new, brighter life was awaiting him if he could survive only a few more minutes, if he could just hold on. I spoke of the blades of grass, the tree, the sidewalk on which to sun himself. I told him how the virgin landscape had been awaiting the arrival of a strong and powerful snail to maintain an ecological balance. I told him of all the other glamorous snails I had seen in the street, from which she/he could choose a hermaphroditic husband/wife. Somehow, he managed to hold on. By the end of the ride, he had even fearlessly extended an eye-stalk to have a look around. By the time I was parking my bicycle, he seemed to have calmed down a bit. I removed the water bottle and carried him to the yard, as promised. When he was safe in his new home, I went back inside to wash the copious amounts of snail slime off of my water bottle. I was happy in the knowledge that now, this brave creature can live out the rest of his days as a ruthless garden-eating warrior. I think I will call him "Tenacious D." Epilogue: He hasn't eaten my neighbor's roses yet. But still, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't mention this to them.