Harangue

The airplane lands, and we're taxiing to the gate. Behind me, a guy turns on his cell phone and calls somebody. Because he's somewhat loud, I can't help but listen. Plus which, they made me turn my iPod off, so I've got nothing else to do with my ears.

During this conversation my nameless fellow passenger actually refers to the person on the other end of the line as "Woman". As in, "Woman, just come and pick me up!", or angrily, "Woman, you drove my truck! I told you not to do that!" After a short discussion about where "his woman" should park to pick him up, he ends the conversation with a "love you, sweetie" in a completely different tone of voice.

Steganography

It's Berkeley, so naturally there are bicyclists. And as a matter of fact, the city council has created a set of "Bicycle Boulevards", streets that are especially good to ride on. The only real difference between a bicycle boulevard and a regular street, as far as I can tell, is that these streets have the words "BIKE BLVD" stenciled on the asphalt. I saw one yesterday that had been defaced. Someone had spray-painted in extra letters so the stencil read BIKE BeLoVeD instead. Kind of made my day.

More News!

Okay, that's it. Those are all the New To You Reruns from my old site. From here on in, it's all new stuff. As a matter of fact, I will try to post a new one every day or two. If I don't, feel free to hit me with a pointy stick.

Blessings

I finally went to the dentist yesterday, after something like a six-year hiatus. But I figure, now that I have basic dental coverage as part of my student health insurance (thanks to the Graduate Student Union), I can go back. I tell you what, I was concerned. Six years without a checkup? I was convinced that I was going to end up with dentures and braces.

So, I had my xrays done, and the dentist takes a look at them. He chuckles and calls over the hygenist. "Look at this!" So naturally, I'm thinking 'Yikes!', but then he goes on to say, "Have you ever seen roots go that deep?" The hygenist says no and chuckles too. They're laughing about my freakish teeth. Turns out that between the deep roots and curiously strong enamel, my teeth are just fine. Long after the rest of my body has become dust, my teeth will still be in good shape. I think I am going to get back on the fitness wagon, so the rest of me can enjoy my wonderful teeth for a long time.

Simulate

I'm sure it has happened to everyone. You meet someone new, and immediately think, "This person really reminds me of my old friend so-and-so." It happened just the other day to me at a party. The catch this time was that my old friend so-and-so was also at the party. So, did my new and old friends meet? Yes. Did they notice that they were cast from the same mold? I don't know, didn't ask. But consider. You've probably met someone in your life that reminded other people of you. Did you notice, or did the mirror have someone else in it? This also happened to me, late one night at the bar, drinking beers and (quite literally) talking epistemology with fellow grad students, I'm struck by the sudden strong feeling that this guy I'm talking to is really me. It can be quite disconcerting.

Surfeit

One long street full of restaurants. Each with a man standing in front, ostensibly the Maitre d'Hotel. In reality, they're more like hawkers, pulling in butts to fill the seats. Places like that always stress me out. We wander to a different section of town, eating at a place called Inn t'Spinnekopke, which means "Inn of the Spider Head". House mussels in a spicy cream sauce with french fries. The Belgians invented french fries. I had my first trappist beer, a Chimay.

Apologies

It's late, and I want to sleep. My bed is calling, but so is Darryl. The phone rings once, twice. I answer. "Talk about a pretentious load of crap. What the heck are you thinking? You better start explaining what you're up to before I smack you upside the head. First of all, I exist. Don't go all sophomoric philosophy on me. Phillip K. Dick could have pulled that off, but there's no way you're up to that kind of level. So cut it out, okay?"

So I have to apologize both to Darryl (for casting aspersions on his very being) and to my two readers, for inflicting that earlier Word on you. But what the heck, that's what the internet is all about, right?

Repeat

Now we've made it to Brussels, and we're walking in the Grote Markt, a central plaza area, named for its size (Grote) and function (Markt). Most towns in the northern part of Belgium (called Flanders, apparently) have a Grote Markt. A dark-skinned young woman just walked up to me. Her mind is flying. She gets her eyes poinnted roughly my way and says "You are doing what you want to do" in heavily accented english. Then she mutters an obscenity and wanders off.

Exegesis

I went to a party this weekend, a friend turned twenty-eight. I haven't hung out with him much recently, but we were roommates when we first moved out to Berkeley. As a matter of fact, Clint and I both lived with Darryl at the time, each answering his ad for a sublet. Little did we know that between the two of us, Clint and I were paying all but five dollars of the rent. So Darryl had it sweet.

Naturally, Darryl was there too. I see him even less than Clint, but he does pop up now and again. As usual, he's either being deep or being stoned. I can never tell.

"You know," he says, "I'm not even really here. I'm just some guy you use when you're getting all pretentious and literary. You want to push some sophomoric philosophy on your readers and don't want to take the blame. You should stand up for what you believe in, man."

I can't take that, when my own figments get out of control. "Look man, you exist. You're out there somewhere, the man himself, who stole from me and my friends and made me pay your rent while you spent your time at the flea market selling car batteries. Don't give me this crap. Just because I use you to illustrate some points doesn't lessen you or your existence in any way. As a matter of fact, it heightens it in a way. I'm making you far more agreeable and interesting than you ever really were."

"But," counters he, "my soul is at stake here. This is like voodoo or something. You're taking advantage of my generosity. I need this head space to think about important stuff, like the nature of God, and you have me all used up on my own nature. This dual existence is wearing me out. I need a break."

Tough for Darryl. He owes me one, so I will continue to use him. At least he is in good company. So he wanders off, grabs two beers and shares one with this other guy with the improbable name of Horselover Fat.

Conversation

I'm on a plane to Brussels, and I can't sleep. It is supposed to be night, but my body doesn't believe it. So I'm sitting, half watching the in-flight movie (Tron, but this is the second time through). A few rows ahead of me, a man pulls a small book out of his pocket. Without looking at it, he opens to a random page and points. He starts reading from where his finger landed. Sitting there, I wonder: what is the likelihood that he would read the first or last page of his book? I've gotta get some sleep.