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july 3, 2001 - 13:58 (d.6)

i sat at my desk for about 30 minutes before my calendar program flashed the reminder: "Dentist Appointment::11:00am."  shite,  if this isn't a miserable day in the making...

nothing like a little drilling to offset the discomfort of electrical burns...

july 3, 2001 - 10:25 (d.6)

ionto (electric medicinal inductment) treatment at hand therapy this morning caused my skin to blister beneathe charged electrodes; flesh, now raw and pink, is greatly irritated by my keyboard pad.  ...something once magical has now become an evil unto itself.

i need new arms, for i sincerely doubt that i would have the strength to hold onto anything i really wanted to with these near-useless appendages.

july 2, 2001 - 14:11 (d.5)

hey look:: julliette has had a portrait drawn by the worldly famous (sic) she@pocketpig.com :: neat. i guess the pig's gotten used to riding in fancy cars, 'cos she claims that cruising in julliette made her feel like a high school kid again...  not such a bad effect, i guess... ( granted, it doesn't look much like her, but so begins orange car world domination! )

july 2, 2001 - 10:52 (d.5)

sunday was nice; all lazy and comfortable, and now that i think about it, perhaps even suspect.

again; early morning light condemns me for pushing so deep into the night.  as a silent protest, i recede deeper under the sheets, this morning i'm moving pretty slow, and not at all feeling guilty about it.

 as wrist hurt disease still prohibits clutch-pull activity, i am unable to ride my scooter; thus lack the typical sunday-morning-meeting motivation.

the window is open, and i can hear kids playing outside.  they speak in english, but yell in spanish; typical california style.  although i haven't been practicing, i actually feel as if i've been understanding more 'environment noise' every day.

one kid, the bigger one, (i think his name is enrique) is always picking on the others, especially skinny jose.  at least two years younger and a fraction of the displacement, jose is actually a pretty good skater; far better than oafish enrique.  (i actually saw this kid land a 180 heelflip the other day.. and he can't be more than 7.  sheesh)

anyway, at the time, jose was laughing, 'cos enrique had just miscalculated the height of the curb, and dived face first into the street.  even from my bedroom window, a few driveways away, and a story above street level, i could make out the distinctive, yet dull sound of flesh and pavement; i could smile along with jose, recognizing this as a unique opportunity laugh at old enrique.

then they are gone, it grows silent, hotter;  i find the phone under the pillow in the empty space next to me.  before i know it, i have called a girl.

the wonders of technology: with the faintest of effort, i can project my unsolicited 'self' into a distant environment, whilst never jeopardizing the comfort of my own.  

it is nice to talk to her.  it is always nice to talk to her.  sometimes i cannot help but wonder if we would get along nearly as well if we lived in the same town?

i take my time and cook a casual breakfast, (spanish omelettes), and eat them in the sunshine on my patio.

i tinker with the car for awhile, but decide it's too hot and opt instead for the a/c comfort of the theater...  unable to raise r on the phone, and entirely at a loss as to who else i know in this town, i roll solo. (for now, even kl moved away ...).

with time, santa cruz has become a ghost town.  sure, it is full of tourists and strangers, but i walk down the street alone; almost every shop, intersection, haunted by the recollection of a time that exists only in memory.

i cannot help but to wonder if i will be able to move into another 'present' here.  unlike many of my peers, i proudly admit that i love this quirky town; i just need to check out for awhile, see about some unfinished affairs, half a world away before attempting to recreate a new time for myself here.

i must wait for the window; i must time it perfectly...

parking space: in the shade, right in front of the theater, sweet.  walking up, i am miserable with the prospect of the long line before the box office; deploying parachute, i notice a large family going through the door.

on impulse, i stand with them, become one of them; i am ushered through, my ticket assumed to be among the stack handed to the doorman by the alpha figure.

there is another queue inside, hundreds of people passively waiting to experience spielberg's latest.  i go to the bathroom, wash my hands.   as i'm leaving, a child walks past; long blond hair, angelic face, and crystal blue eyes.

"this is the boy's bathroom."  in a rare display of public compassion, i am trying to be helpful.

"i am a boy."

um, oops?  "of course you are..."   he stands before me, looking up at me.  damn, those eyes are intense.  his look is not hurt, nor offended; somehow, he does not seem to be upset.  i am scrambling, "... just wanted to let you know you found the right place."

he seems to accept my improbable recovery attempt, and smiles with a sincerity that projects a wisdom beyond years.  "thanks," and he turns to let me go.

i am back in the lobby now, thinking to myself.. "well, aren't i the arsehole?"  

i see they are about to open the theater doors, disregarding the queue, i make like i'm heading for the concession stand.  i am counting on people fanning out as the stationary line begins to move.  the gambit pays off, and i turn at the last minute to be swallowed by the crowd.

as one of the first twenty in the theater, i get the seat of my choice.  

the film (AI) is interesting: a rare opportunity to see two styles as distinct as those of kubrik and spielberg trying to work together, within a single, cohesive piece.

i wonder how much of the preproduction (i.e. plot revions / storyboards), were created by stanley before he passed away.  were some of the obvious kubrik-esque scenes influenced by him, or simply there as a tribute to him?  

i think i might have to see it a few more times to decide if i really liked it, or if it was just a highly polished compromise that is condemned by it's desire to be everything at once.  (a rather familiar scenario, i fret.)

exiting theater, my headache is no longer passive.  i stop by peet's, spend the $5 originally designated for the movie on a large swirl.  this evil concoction...  my sf friends were addicted to it, raving about it...   i tried one out of curiousity; what could be so great about whipped espresso and caramel and whatever else gooey-kablooey goes on in there?

what was once an experiment that has now become an addiction, swirls are now a way of life; at $5 a serving, this is lil' habit is almost as expensive as a more 'chic' relationship with designer drugs.

alternatively, perhaps it might soon be hip to be swirl-sheik; i will keep my eyes open.

in search of new converse, i drive to the mall; i know exactly what i want, and am on a mission.  walking into the first shoe store i see, i point to the pitiful bits of canvas and rubber strapped to my feet, "in ten and a half, please."

cocky bastard: "they don't come in half sizes."

me: "yes, of course they do."

cocky bastard: "i work in the shoe industry, and i know that they do not come in half sizes."

me: "perhaps you work in the shoe industry, because you are an idiot."  i shake my head, remove my left shoe; the tread is long gone, but the word 'converse' and the characters "10 1/2" are still undeniably visible. "yes, of course they do."

fine. "i'll take the eleven's"  cocky bastard brings them out, asks if i'd like to try them on.  no, i don't.  i'm wearing a pair, i know what they look like, i just want to buy them and leave.

at the register, the total is in the mid-teens.  the error is in my favor, so i do not speak up.  although, i do find myself biting my lip to prevent pointing out another example of the clerk's ineptitude; in the end, i decide that vindication isn't worth $15, and leave the store with a smile.

looking at the receipt later, it seems as if cocky bastard has charged me for a nike hat.  well, that oughta screw with their inventory.  ;)

new shoes in hand, old shoes on feet, i sit at the lacklustre fountain at the center of the mall.  high school couples are everywhere, doing that hand-in-each-other's-back-pocket thing that nauseates me to no end.

before leaving, i stop in mervyn's to purchase a pair of $5.99 black t-shirts, because they just go with everything...

july 1, 2001 - 03:36 (d.5)

tonight i attended a scooter film festival that some of my like-minded friends in san jose had organized; an open affair, it accepted all manner of submissions, from documentaries, to 'music videos,' or short stories...  ( just so long as it was original and contained scooters in it, somewhere ).

much to my surprise, several of my out-of-town scooter friends had managed to attend the occasion as well; people from sf, sacramento, etc..  i actually had quite a bit more fun than i figured i might.  refreshing, actually.

a lot of people asked why i hadn't been around in awhile, but seemed to be genuinely sympathetic when i explained i haven't been able to ride a scooter for weeks because of my hands...  

actually, we spent some time talking about what would be necessary to convert a vintage scooter to be 'foot' controlled; with clutch pedals, foot shifting, brakes, etc.

it would be an interesting idea...

as my truck still has not returned from the shop, i drove julliette over the hill for the first time.  this afternoon, i fixed the sad foglamp (bad ground) and the temp gauge, (bad seat), and decided that she was up for a little bit of a spin.

on the way there, i cautiously opted to drive the 9, instead of 17, as i am still trying to get a feel for the 'quirks' of this new machine.   (hwy 9 is a slower, yet twistier road that offers relief to many of the stressors associated with hwy 17).   everything went great (although i did lose a 'center cover' from one of my wheels.  that sucked).

due to the succes of my departure, and the late hour of my return, i opted to take hwy 17 for the trip home; the traffic would be light, and the air temp. had dropped rather significantly, so there should be a reduced possibility of heating problems...

this was the first time i've really had to stretch her legs, and stretch they did..

( i love my car )

for a vintage machine, this little sunset chaser can move.  easily attaining a solid 85mph in the flat (with hutzpah to spare), i didn't drop below 70 for the entire length of hwy 17.  (where PIMP foglamps allowed me to do this safer than I've ever done it before!)

it felt pretty good to be passing $60K sports cars on the outside in some of the tighter corners; to see the driver's expression as i swooshed by. (with style)

although it was admittedly not the same effortless flight of the beetle, this little '02 makes my truck feel like a great lumbering oaf.

and again, i must remind myself that this will not become an enthusiast car; i will not dump thousands of dollars into it, upgrading it, making it stronger, faster, more beautiful ...

... but, a 5th gear sure would be sweet.  (or the m3 conversion, or ...)   ;)

oh, and the best thing?  jp saw pictures of her for the first time today; ( i have been fretting this for some time, as jp has previously gone to great lengths to define her distaste for orange. )   anyway, either she was just being nice, or julliette has, yet again, won over the heart of another.

that makes me smile even more.