Monday, June 06, 2005
Weekend Wrapup: Cool and Chilly
Dang, that was some weekend. Let’s see if I can get a bit of it down for y’all.
Friday was a conference day, and I conferred my fool ass off from 8:45 in the a. of m. when I started staffing a presentation on Economic Justice (which meant I was the guy who told everybody else to sign in) till 5 in the p. of m., four sessions and a nice luncheon later - at which point I changed out the long sleeved white shirt for a short sleeved white shirt with little naked native surfer dudes all over it, plus a fresh pair of fuzzy sox. I took a short walk down to a convenient corner where Jon picked me up; Dave was already in the car and we hied ourselves hence to the Fillmore, where Hot Tuna was playing that evening. We were close to the front of the line, which assured us of an excellent spot to stand and watch the show, and then Jon and I grabbed some supper to eat in line. My chinese food was not that special, but there were two good things about it: I didn’t drop my cellphone into it; and the cap to my bottle of iced tea came with a coupon for two free weeks at a Bally’s Fitness Center, one of which is near to my office. So that was all pretty cool. A few more friends showed up as the hour aged, and then we were let in and rushed to the left side of the stage, where I spent the entire evening, standing on my tired pods, leaning into the stage monitors about 10 feet from Jack and 15 from Jorma. The show was tremendous: first, the best acoustic set I think I’ve ever heard them play, and then an electric set that blended blazing solos with refrains and choruses that I couldn’t help but find rather muddy-sounding. No matter, it was a great show and we left the ‘Mo at 1:30 am feeling barely any of the chill of that chilly night.
I awoke early on saturday and went back to the conference. eurgh. I stayed till 2:30 in the afternoon, attending all the sessions and the keynote luncheon, which concluded with a rush for the doors and, in my case, for my couch, on which I napped prodigously. By the time I awoke it was nearing evening and Kel suggested we take a bit of a walk; she drove us to Lands End (only a few miles from our home) and we had a spectacular stroll along the cliffs overlooking the ocean. I tell ya, sometimes this town is just too cool. In this case, it was way too cool, in that the wind was whipping and cold as a sommelier’s smile when you demand extra ice for your Riunite.
Returning home, we ate a little something and watched an interesting DVD: “What the Bleep Do We Know.” I found it a bit overproduced and “soft,” but very watchable and provocative. I was amused that the florid voluptuous woman who seemed to come straight out of old Star Trek was, in fact, “channelling” some other intelligence for us, but that’s no nevermind. Also, the display of photographs of the impact of feelings on water, taken by Dr. Emoto, left me with a lot of questions, not the least of which was whether he had made up his own name. After the movie, we fell asleep and I didn’t move all freaking night. Damn that sleep’s good stuff when I get enough of it.
Sunday started with housework and shopping for athletic wear, since I am going to be visiting Bally’s and can’t show up looking like the scungy hairball that I, in fact, am. Upon our return home, in a stroke of brilliance, I did a load of laundry which included the shorts I’d been wearing, without bothering to remove my wallet therefrom, which didn’t seem to make much of a difference to the shorts or the wallet, but kind of freaked me out. Then we headed out to Berkeley for another concert, this one being a recital by Tango No. 9 at a small collective of shops and restaurants on Telegraph, which is today what Haight Street used to be. Kel and I took a spot on the mezzanine and listened to two hours of gorgeous music, to which some very smooth people were occasionally dancing in very organized and proficient ways. My lesson from this was, if you are going to dance on the mezzanine, you had better be ready to be seen. Since I was not, I did not. Instead I just delighted in the rhythms and melodies, the dancing (by others) and personalities in the audience - highly Berkloid in nature, with sophisticated urban types and strangely cavorting street types and a yoga-freak sitting in half-lotus on the brick flooring, tapping his filthy feet to the tunes. Everybody from all walks of life revelled in the lilting refrains and each other’s company, for two delightfully free hours.
We wrapped up the outing with a visit to a gourmet grocery where we got some overpriced veggies, a pack of hostess cupcakes, and beer - weird english beer from the Wychwood Brewery, as to which we’d lately received some entertaining promotional items from an old friend of the family from our Oxford days. (for the record, the beers are in perfect focus. you, however, may be a little fuzzy.) Both pints were swiftly downed; we cleaned up a bit around the house; I did some writing and photoshopping, and then retired to my astonishingly comfortable bed.
Today was Pete Beck day, all day long, and was also one hell of a busy day at work for Daniel. Tomorrow should be a bit easier, if only because I did the nastiest parts of this week’s anticipated burden right up front. I’m all about the frontloading.
Okay, when I resort to Neil Innes I know I’m pretty much done. Have a good’un and keep yerself warm - it may look nice out there, but that breeze’ll shrivel your produce like nobody’s business.... oh what the hell, here’s some photos from the Land’s End stroll. Be careful, people have been swept from the cliffs and drowned.
This is a rock that lives in the ocean. When the waves hit it, it gets all misty. Oh, I always cry at wettings.
This is another rock out in the mouth of the bay. Across the way you can see Point Bonita with its lighthouse, just barely. The spindrift was overtopping the pillar with every wave. It was breathtaking. Then again, it was freaking cold out there.
This is a piece of the cliff from which, according to many signs, people apparently are regularly ejected into the ocean to their doom. But it sure looked pretty in the setting sunlight.
This is a rusty old pipe that sticks out near the trail. The textures seemed wonderfully rich to me. Then again, I’m easily amused.
This, finally, is the famous view of the big orange bridge as seen from the Land’s End trail. The trail winds through chest-high wildflowers. Kel can be seen appreciating the gorgeosity from the shadows - shadows to which I now return until tomorrow. Thanks for visiting. This has been a Chucklehut production. Such as it is.
