I found a link to this story on my friends Sparky's website, and I have to agree with her "Gah!" remark. According to Dante Moore, the best way for a woman to get and keep a man is to put up with all his bullshit and do everything he says. He gone so far as to write a book for women explaining this concept. Though, I have to wonder, for the men who take this disrespectful approach to dating, what kind of woman are they actually going to end up with? Probably not the girl they've been dreaming of (unless they are really into submissives with no self esteem). I'd like to think that any self-respecting woman would say "F that," and get the hell away from those men. Of course there is compromise and questions about power in any relationship, but there is a difference between that and complete disrespect for a woman as a competent human being who deserves to be part of a partnership.

First off, I have to say that I know plenty of bicyclists who are fine upstanding people. I often ride a bike around town myself, though without the special outfit. I think it's great to bike instead of drive when you can. But I am sure most of us have had those moments of grumbling while we are driving ten miles an hour behind a bicyclist we can't pass because they are riding down the center of the lane when we have somewhere to be. If you've had that experience read Tommy Wayne Kramer's column "Assignment Ukiah - Pedaling Baloney." I thought it was entertaining.

So, I was called by the local army recruiting office this morning. Not particularly who I want to hear, or waste my cell phone minutes on, but I answered anyway because the call came from a private number, which is usually what it says when my boss calls. It was easy enough to say, "No, I don't to talk about army recruiting. Thanks anyway. Bye." But there was one bit of information that I got before that happened which made me a little upset. The gentleman on the other end of the line told me that they called me because they were calling previous and current Laney College students. Yes, I occasionally take classes at Laney College because its cheap and fun to occasionally learn new things there. However, I don't ever remember giving them permission to give out my personal information to the army recruiters. There was no check box on the admissions application that said "yes, please share my information." Nor were there any disclaimers telling me that they were planning on doing this with or with out my permission if I decided to be a student. I have the right to know these things, or at least I should, prior to their happening.

Here's a heartwarming story from the Contra Costa Times about giving people a hand when they need it most: "Scholarships keep ex-offenders on the right path."

Just a little something...

Gravity is a mutual agreement and death is an institution, not an inevitability. That is why dear Mrs. Amelda Leed continued to stay on the ground, but no longer aged. She realized these facts at some point while her husband, the late Mr. John Leed, was in the process of dying. He had no other cause other than old age. He was 82 when he died, 16 years her senior. He had a good run of it, but still she somehow didn’t see the point of his death. He had given up. And left her behind simply because he was old. And what did it mean to be old anyway. She was old, but felt great. She could still run, and fall without breaking a hip. Death was something that people did simply because they thought they had to and to get to death they aged. That was how she saw it. So she stopped because what was the point. Now, gravity on the other hand made sense, it would be awfully hard to keep track of things if they simply floated away whenever they wanted, so if everyone continued to agree that gravity existed that suited her just fine.

So Mrs. Leed, now a widow, went on living in the same small town where her husband left her. She continued to get older in years, but she really didn’t age. She was old, but she had given up counting birthdays quite sometime ago. Everyone in town speculated about her age, because most of them had known her their whole lives, but she always looked the same, acted the same, had the same spring in her step. But nobody really knew how old she was.

She had a job. She had had a series of jobs over the past decade, the latest being at the florist shop around the corner from her house. Every morning, as part of her exercise routine, she would get up at dawn, get dressed, and start walking. She would walk in the opposite direction from the florist shop, turning left or right as the mood hit her and eventually she would end up at the shop. By the time she got there another employee would be taking care of the morning shipment. She would put on some music, Artie Shaw, Billie Holiday, or maybe even some Bela Bartok. And then she would start making arrangements for the window display.

This morning she was working with a young girl by the name of Penelope. People around town called her Nelly. Nelly finished high school a couple of months ago and was planning to leave for college in a couple of weeks. Mrs. Leed liked working with Nelly. The minute she came through the door Nelly would start talking. She would talk about getting ready for college. She would talk about the parties she went to. And she would gossip about everyone in town. Mrs.Leed often wondered how Nelly knew so much about everyone, but never questioned her. She liked hearing Nelly’s stories. The town never changed much, and the lives of each generation looked a lot like the generation before. Hearing Nelly’s stories made the town seem predictable and comfortable. Mrs. Leed liked that.

“…And then Mrs. Martin said that she would tell Missy’s Mom what we were up to. And I was, like, it’s not as if we were doing anything illegal. And besides, it’s not like Missy’s mom would listen to her anyway. She hasn’t liked Mrs. Martin since that whole incident with the dog…”

Mrs. Leed was trying to remember if Nelly had told her about the dog incident when Nelly asked, “so what’s your story?”

She looked up, “hmmm?”

“I was just thinking that I’ve worked with you all summer and I don’t know very much about you. So, were you born here?”

Mrs. Leed thought to her self that she didn’t know very much about herself either. Most of her life had been so long ago that she was starting to forget it. “No. I moved here with my husband shortly after we were married. He was from here.”

“How long ago was that?”

“So long ago, I can’t remember.”

“There a rumor around town with the kids that you are, like, two hundred years old. No offense. I mean you know how kids are. I never believed it anyway. I mean, my grandmother is eighty and you look half her age.”

The old woman smiled. “Have you ever considered that it could be true?”

“Nah…You’re joking right? Anyway, nobody lives to be that old.”

“Sometimes I wonder. Everything seems so long ago. I’m starting to forget it. I can’t remember which year I was born anymore.”

The truth, which she never mentioned to anyone, was that she was well into her hundreds. And it was also true that she didn’t know exactly how far in to her hundreds. She had lost count somewhere along the way. After a hundred years she figured that it really didn’t matter anymore. She couldn’t remember the last birthday she had celebrated. She stopped celebrating when her last surviving child stopped surviving. There was no longer anyone to share a birthday with, or even to remind her that it was her birthday. She did remember the date, February 13, occasionally falling on a Friday. That made her sign Aquarius. She was having a memory of someone explaining to her what that meant. It was a woman. As an Aquarius you are prone to deep and profound thoughts…

“You should write it down.” She realized that Nelly was still talking to her.

“Write what down?”

“Your life story, you know, like a memoirs or something, before you start forgetting more stuff. Michael Kealy is writing his memoirs, which I think is silly because he’s only twenty. I mean what could he have to write about. I always thought he was weird anyway.”

“Maybe he is planning on it being a life time project.”

“Yeah, maybe. He’s going to the school I’m going to go to. I hope I don’t run into him very much. I can’t wait to get away from some of the people in this town. I think I’m going to try to get people at school to call me Penelope. I’m tired of being called Nelly. I figure this is a good opportunity to dump that name.”

“Would you like me to start calling you Penelope?”

“That would be great.”

The rest of the morning was pleasant for Mrs. Leed. Penelope stopped asking about her life and instead started gossiping about the affair that the high school English teacher and the school principal were supposedly having. And about how the fact that her neighbor smoked pot was becoming more and more obvious. Every time he stepped out of his house “he just reeked.”

A good day...

Today was a great bay area day for me. First off the weather was beautiful. I started off by meeting up with friends at the Thai temple in Berkeley for Thai brunch. We got there a little too late for it to be an ideal experience (I would recommend arriving before 10:30), but sitting on the back porch of one of the temple buildings drinking Thai ice tea, eating mango sticky rice, and chatting with friends is always pleasant. Then one of my friends and I wandered over to the Ashby flea market, which is only a few blocks away. I bought a great new pair of sunglasses for only five dollars. Then another friend came and picked us up and the three of us drove over to the city to go to Ocean Beach. (We were going to take public transportation, but my friend reasoned that it would be cheaper with three of us to drive. Though I try to use public transit as much as possible I do have many issues with the way BART operates that I will address at some later date.)

We took the long way, driving through golden gate park, which was beautiful as always. We ended up over by the Beach Chalet and the windmill. We stopped in at the Beach Chalet to grab some of their jugs-o-beer. I forget what they call them, but the jugs are cheaper then getting a pitcher, and you get to keep the jug. I think the jug and beer is twelve and if you bring the jug back the refill is only eight. My friend brought hers to refill and I got a new one. Mine is in my frig right now with the left over beer.

The great thing was that right before we ordered one of the people behind the bar dropped a champagne glass nearly on top of me and shattered glass every where I was sitting so he gave us a new one and a refill for the price of one.

After my third friend finally got the food to go that she had ordered (I would not recommend eating there on a Sunday. It was way too busy and took way too long.), we walked across to the beach. We lounged in the warm sand, drank our jugs of beer and snacked on my friends potato chips that came with her food. Unfortunately, it was gray along the shore, but it was still nice to be near the water, watching people with their children, dogs or footballs, and the seagulls waiting for said people to give them food. We finally had to move because of the call of nature (btw, the beach chalet is a great place to use the restroom). And then we wandered over to the
Dutch Windmill, which has a fabulous flower garden surrounding it. We sat on one the benches there and drank some more from our jugs-o-beer (I don't know if it is legal, but no one bugged us).

On our way home we found the freeway traffic stopped. So, we got off and ended up at the Atlas Cafe, which has good coffee drinks, decent pastries, and good soups, all of which tided us over until we thought the freeway had cleared. And last, but not least, we happened to pass a "yard" sale just a few blocks from the cafe where my friend found a great little art deco bedside table for hardly any money. Yes, it was a good day. I would highly recommend this trek to anyone.

This is also worth a look.

It made me smile at least. The song is great. www.takecaredownthere.org

Why I Hate Beauty has an interesting perspective on men's perception of women, and why so many of them can't find fulfilling relationships. Whether or not it is true or even partially true, it's an interesting read.

"A day without a dark cloud. Almost a happy day."

~ Alexander Solzhenitsyn, from One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich.

I was very sad to hear today that one of my favorite authors died this weekend. So I went and pulled his book, One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, from my shelf for the umpteenth time. I've noticed that the pages are starting to come loose from the paperback binding, but I suppose that is a sign of love. This book has been influential in my life in many ways, from understanding human nature to understanding history. Solzhenitsyn was an important, influential figure in the Soviet Union, using his writing to both speak truth to power and to give testament to the struggles of many.

The New York Times has an interesting story about how Russia today has lost touch with the work of this great author titled Reverence but No Outpouring for Solzhenitsyn that I would highly recommend reading. I would also recommend Truthout's transcription of an address Solzhenitsyn gave in 1978 called A World Split Apart.

A Homily for the Homeless

I thought I saw Jesus pass me in the street last week.
He just passed me by.
He was followed by an angel in disguise,
Who smiled and tossed me a dime.
Is that all the salvation I get,
All the love you can afford?
I saw him again this past Tuesday.
He tossed a cigarette butt at my feet.
His angel buddy laughed and I was ignored.
What’s that all about?
I was told Jesus loves me.
I don’t believe that now.
All I believe in is dirty streets,
Polluted air,
And assholes everywhere.
Next time I see you in the street,
Or, God forbid,
You come to my door
I’m going to pretend I don’t see you.
Screw that.
I won’t pretend,
I just won’t believe.