022308 - This morn I stayed in bed listening to the winds whoosh over the house as trees swirled wildly outside. Soon I was called to duty, to fill up the ride with biodiesel, then babysit young SP at the MOMA while her mom caught up with a visiting artist from Ireland. Driving toward the pump, my Mom called, and it started out as a nice chat, but by the time I arrived I couldn’t quite operate the pump with one hand; as the rain came down and the double-dose of caffeine took hold, my tone became increasingly spirited. I stated my case, and made some good ground - the best part of the conversation was being able to defend my record, boasting that I expect to outperform the stock market in the next few years. Finally, when another biodiesel seeker pulled up to the pump, I stopped my high-horse preaching and had to hang up. But after all that bragging, now I’d better live up to it! Arriving back at the house, time for showering and primping was gone - off we went, driving back over the bridge into the City - the place is like a tractor beam which pulls things into it. But walking throught the streets, holding SP up so she could see the action, was all good fun - I appreciated seeing the red brick of Saint Patrick’s Church; the last time I saw St. Patrick’s, I was flying out of SFO and glanced down to behold my favorite SF landmark. The art show was interesting, with many geometric models - mostly globes, which had the feel of an inventor’s workshop. Beyond, there were some projection screens which made me think of an Icelandic glacier. This raised the issue about the naming of Iceland and Greenland. I’d met some Icelandic filmmakers at Sundance this year, and they hadn’t heard anything about the switching of the names on the map to mislead opportunistic settlers. When I asked what the name of their country was in their own language, they replied: ‘Eece-land.’ It still makes me wonder! Beyond, there was a darkened corridor and some of the floorboards seemed warped or loose. As a museum staff person pressed it in to place, water ripples spread from the floor up a white screen at the back of the room. Other patrons caught on, stepping on the floorboards to send ripples up the screen. The result was a soothing, natural effect which SP seemed to like very much as well. Beyond the long queue of people waiting to get a peek, there was a silver cube sculpture that looked like some sort of futuristic DJ booth; people who peered in to the ends of the star-like tendrils were reflected multiple times on the smooth silver surface, like some sort of kaleidescope. Beyond was an entire wall of sea sponge skeletons. Anyway, it was hot in there, and simply packed full of people - despite offers to stay on for more City action from my friends, I opted to return to Marin, and am now back here in the room, yawning with the blanket over my legs, ready to set back in to a lovely nap.
037-SanFrancisco
036-Tiburon
022108 - Departing on the Tib ferry in light rain, I headed toward San Francisco in search of a night of High Jinx. On this rare occassion I decided to sit inside instead of on-deck. Still, the distorted and dulled view of the city skyline through the thick glass was gorgeous, as was the dull blob of Alcatraz in the field of gray. My only complaint: there were several letters missing in the ‘Port of San Francisco’ lettering on the ferry building. I’m sure they’ll get right on that. Arriving as night fell, I strode through city streets to the 21 Hayes bus line, now out of the rain but on a tedious climb up the hill to Hayes Valley. This time, riding the SF muni bus, I felt I wasn’t one of them - my expression wasn’t pouty enough, and I was too eager to strike up a conversation while onboard. I didn’t, but instead called NF to see if he was availble to visit - he was, so I continued on, ever so slowly as the bus filled with soggy commuters. Finally approaching NF’s place, I called him back, confirming that it was the stop after ‘Lee-Ohn.’ This proved I wasn’t a local anymore, as San Franciscans refer to Lyon Street as ‘Lion.’ Philistines. The NF visit was brief and good, and I tried to inspire some collaboration with him in the upcoming year. Saying goodbye, I continued walking in the rain with the computer stashed under the jacket, reaching Madrone right around opening time. JC and AN were spinning records and warming things up for the wild night ahead. Soon the place was jam-packed with stylesters ready for a school night’s worth of frolic and much more. It became a veritable roll call of all the fun party people from SF, and I was impressed and pleased to hear liberal use of the expression ‘high jinx’ among the guests, even those who I didn’t recognize. ‘Tonight we ride with the Fellowship of the Jinx.’ It wasn’t a school night for me, and this collection of boys and girls out for good times was nothing I’d encountered anywhere outside the city in the previous year. As AC dropped by with a glass of absinthe, I started to sense that this night would not disappoint…
035-Tiburon
021408 - The Valentine’s Day season has been great, and life is one fun day after the next, with almost no real responsibilities to speak of. On Valentine’s Day itself, I woke up in Tiburon in the MKs’ maroon guest and TV room. I was unable to get on the Internet; this has been difficult lately, as the wi-fi connects are pass protected, requiring authorization. This makes me think I’ll need to do a real commute to telecommute - that is, walk to the library or some other place with free wireless and work for an unbroken span. Self-moderation is dangerous to let slide. That very thread carried over into the evening, as JG and I rallied for the DMF party in San Francisco. The event occurred in a beautiful venue, once an old speakeasy, which included a useable slide to transport patrons from street level down to the posh lower level bar. I bought some shockingly expensive drinks down there, but soon after speaking with my friend SE the DJ, I had some other drink tickets to use and distribute. After making several laps between the silver plates full of chocolates, I noticed the place starting to fill up with people dressed to kill, with blouses pulled open to give Cupid a clear shot on his favorite night. Whoa! Still this didn’t prepare me for the burlesque stage show and the spotaneous encouragement of tribe sexy at hand. These folks had a good time down there, and the place soon filled packed full of swilling singles. While watching pedestrian feet shuffle past on street level through tinted windows, I grinned and thought, ‘If this is wrong, I don’t wanna be right.’
034-SanRafael
021208 - Today called for a hike into the hills after a brief visit to the Marin History Museum. The old Victorian house once belonged to a wealthy gold heiress and adventurer who preferred excursions to Greenland and the Arctic. What was once her residence is now the museum, and her old backyard is now a public park. It seemed a fitting departure point, as the exhibits described the 1800s era, when the train traveled from San Rafael to the Point at Tiburon, which happens to be my next stop. The ascent up Mount Raffy drew the first sweat of the new season, and the shirt came off for trudging through shaded tunnelway paths near the peak. Glimpsing out at the waterways, from Novato to the pylons of the Bay Bridge, the vantage was superb, becoming even better when two butterflies fluttered and encircled each other, drawing my eyes up into the blue sky right into the deep craters of the waxing crescent moon. Looping back past the telecommunications relay post, the water towers, and the back valley with Mount Tamalpais behind, I descended along the steeper slope to a small reservior held between brick cliffs. The water passed along in adobe-style aqueducts, falling quickly through drainways down to the park. Yes, right back to the museum and old home of one of Marin’s great patrons, who lived on Mission Street, right next to Mission San Rafael. This source of water was probably what caused the missionaries to set up here in the first place, as these agricultural convertors always needed to start with a fresh, available clean source. Right at the bottom of the trench, next to the house, I discovered a drinking fountain and took a refreshing sip.
033-SanRafael
013108 - Tonight, the eve of Imbolc, is time to release grudges, forgive oneself, re-ignite the flame of spirit and seek inspiration from the goddess Brigid. I can’t think of any grudges I’ve kept this year, and need only release my disgust for San Francisco to approach it with a new attitude. I forgive myself for thinking and saying cutting thoughts; these thoughts actually hurt me more, but still they’re only words: important, but not lasting, easily moved into the past… Now Imbolc has passed, a success easily attained: I mostly slept as white bees’ wax candles burned throughout the night. The return to SF has been good - upon plunging into the cloudy atmosphere of the moist and rainy bay, I hopped on the air train and whisked my way through BART to the Embarcadero station. Upon arrival, I ascended the staircase, continuing downtown to the Hell’s Cargo bank. The auto check-reader at the ATM was unable to read my checks, so I went inside to make an old-fashioned deposit. I somehow resisted the urge to call out, ‘Throw down the box!’ as Black Bart did when he made his notorious withdrawls from Hell’s Cargo stagecoaches en route… The mural above the teller showed a classic scene of a man in a bowler hat walking up Market Street with the Ferry Building behind him. I took this same walk in the other direction, there lulling about for a spot of coffee before jolting into a speed walk to reach the vessel in its berth. It seems the clock tower is still one minute fast to help us get to the boats on time. We turned and sped away from the receding city, and I stood out on the fan tail as we swayed back and forth in the choppy waters. Sheets of rain splashed in on windy gusts, refreshing mountain-dried skin. Destined for the infirmary at San Rafael, I had Thai with SM and brought a bag of fresh vegetables into the solitary shelter, quiet, and calm there, soon setting into the first leg of the ’stiltskin marathon. These days of foggy refuge also included trips over the Bridge to the Ocean Film Fest. Saturday included an amazing three-program set, and Sunday’s final feature A Man Among Orcas proved a highlight. Now I’m back under Raffy’s wing, safely returned to the point of departure beside the Patron of travelers - one full migration complete.
032-ParkCity
011608 - The Festival is really gearing up now, and the madness begins on Thursday. When I picked up my uniform the other day, people saw me and immediatly commented, making me realize just how infamous I really am. Expressions ranged from disgust to excitement, so I can rest assured knowing I’m both an influential and controvertial character. Sundance can be a glam, gossip-ridden environment, so stirring up a bit of drama may not be so bad anyway. The important thing is to do my job well so there’s no reason to call my status into question. Meanwhile, I’ll be true to the ‘freedom of expression’ that is core to the Festival’s theme. After training, a co-worker told me about two films screening for volunteers and staff. I checked out Adventures of Power, a silly and fun film about an air drummer’s quest to help others feel what he feels from the music. This struck a familiar cord with me, as my UCLA roommate constantly air-drummed to Rush, finding ‘Tom Sawyer’ to be the ultimate air drum challenge, as did the film’s geeky protagonist. The second film, I Always Wanted to be a Gangster, made me realize I’m a francophile to a fault. Especially excited to see this black and white film from France, I forgot to check the bus schedule; finding the film interesting but a bit slow, I left half-way through - missing the last bus and having to take a cab home.
Sundance was a great success, and I was able to see many films: An American Soldier, American Teen, Fields of Fuel, Gonzo, I.O.U.S.A., Roman Polanski, Downloading Nancy, Frozen River, Durakovo, The Drummer, The Deal, Adventures of Power, Hell Ride, Fears of the Dark, and the winning Shorts. Work went well, and I have the manager’s recommendation to return next year. I met some great people, and enjoyed taking the bus to Old Town, tromping through snowy streets to make a few bucks working for a great organization. The documentaries in particular have motivated me to get more creative and live outside the comfort zone. Now that my paranoia is quelled, this next stage should be a great opportunity to make changes and develop into the character I want to become.
031-ParkCity
011008- This morn I woke up to two dreams; in the first I was talking with FP, and due to a bit of a language barrier, we gesticulated a fun, humorous conversation. There was a rectangular white tarp on the ground, and he jokingly motioned as if he was a waiter presenting a cornucopia of fruits and breads to the table. I then squatted at the back of it, pretending to raise a sail on the invisible mast of a sailboat. In the second dream I was swimming in the green water of a river - but this water was more dense than usual. As I took freestyle strokes, my fingers gripped the thick murk as I pulled myself forward. Today, in the real world, the Republican candidates debated on TV and consequently in the back of my head. I again started to fantasize about leaving this country, becoming a citizen of a real republic instead of a militaristic empire indebted to the Communists. Ron Paul’s ‘Common Sense’ did impress me, however, boosting my impression of the Lone Star State. This bidding tension was a theme today, as I was talking rates, always having to compare my ceiling to what someone offshore at some tech sweatshop offers. Who knows who these people are or what their lives are really like - who sweats more? Actually my attitude is to make little money - to not need it. A low rate works fine for me, as telecommute work is more valuable - there’s no wasting time and expense commuting, better schedule control, and less chance of office politics derailing everything. The situation to avoid: investing too much in order to relocate somewhere and do a job on ‘at-will’ terms; once the eggs are in one basket a person is completely vulnerable. I did stray from the hours of telecommute work I had planned for today, a bit demotivated by the day’s dealings, favoring research into international media arts events instead. Just one week until the Sundance Festival is full-on. I took a last look at the schedule and tried to max out my schedule with films, but then again, the ‘max out’ philosophy is not really where I’m at at the moment. Biting off more than one can chew can create problems. A better strategy would be to simply process what I have and leave room to spare.
Das nächste Fenster fragt üblicherweise nach der Stadt in der man wohnt bzw von der aus man internet poker und die persönliche E - Mail - Adresse auch.
030-ParkCity
010808 - This morn I awoke to the fresh memory of a dream, reviewing the basic outline in my head before opening my eyes. I’d just read an an article about SV which described her shooting baskets with a Denver Nuggets ball during the interview. I was leaning over the rubbish bin in a tube station, reading the piece, when SV finally appeared to meet me at the scheduled time. It was wonderful to see her… I asked excitedly, “S, do you know the Denver Nuggets?” She gave a quizzical look, cocked her head to one side, and smiled, answering: “Nooo.” This set me back quite a bit, and after one or two other quick, kind, yet dismissive statements, she departed, offering a sprightly ‘Goodbye’ and disappearing into the tunnelway. I’d misused my chance, and realized it was gone. I cried right there. I almost wrote to tell her the dream, but thought the better of it. Another good day in Park City! The setup in the room is still improving, and it was great to hear JP booming through the speakers with the daily instructions from Cape Cod. Last night I bought a pass to the Ocean Film Festival, and was excited to see ????????Saving Luna in the program, as I’d suggested this match to the filmmakers months ago. There’s another orca movie from France playing, shot in South Africa. With the pass I’ll be on a two day viewing marathon, and the very thought made my buttocks and shoulders sore in anticipation of full days submerged in the seat. Later, I made a little trek into the snowy streets of the neighborhood, crossing under the freeway to the grocery store, there stocking up on greens, pasta sauce, and the rest. I asked the checker how people made it through the winter out here before imports, and he gave an excellent answer, mentioning sealable jars, and that crops like squash were stored in wax. Beef jerky was a staple throughout the winter. Walking home while pushing a full cart through the snow proved a good wind for me, and a good laugh for those who drove by. I then rolled it back empty to retur it, and jogged home. So far I’ve been able to hone in on my daily goals, and it seems to get easier even after only one week.
029-ParkCity
??????
010708 - I sat at the window for the flight from Portland to Salt Lake City, looking out as we sailed over the wispy cloud covering which obscured the ground below. Upon descent, a great view of the snowy mountains of Utah opened up, and I gained excitement entering into a new environment. Arriving at SLC, I called my Dad - when he asked where I was, I replied, “This is the place!” echoing Joseph Smith’s sentiment. Shortly after collecting my bags at the carousel, I was out at the island for the drive-by pick-up. We headed out and up the canyon into the mountains, finally arriving at snowed-in Park City. My thoughts were swimming with forecasting the locations of the new, upcoming year - but that’s way off. In the meantime, the most important thing is to do a good job at Sundance and get invited back for next year. It could be tough, with so many people around and wanting to work for the festival. Everyone says they’re jealous, although they mean envious. I’ll do my best and see how it goes - but I’ll practice good Zen non-attachment and be ready to turn on a dime if necessary. The first day of training occurred the next morn. It had me a bit worried - many staff members are returning, and I’m one of the newest agents, more vulnerable in these beginning ‘trial by fire’ stages. The people are great, and it was nice to see MO, now the top boss of the department. It will be interesting to see how things play out, and in the meantime I’d better study the films and geography of the area. There are a couple of free days before work this weekend, a great time to get started on my habits of excercise, telecommuting, and writing. I was able to do all these things, taking brisk walks through the snow, logging some time on the computer, and posting a new blog entry. An exciting development: JP has added analytics to the blog, so now we can count exactly how few people read it! But, that’s no reason to despair, as it’s mainly an excercise. More importantly, I hope to be a faster telecommuter, better writer and healthier man through repetition. Funny how the new year is such a great time for these resolutions, yet most soon fade. In past years, I have kept my resoutions, albeit with lapses at times. Yet, as I mentioned, I’m still a first-year calf, vulnerable and in a precarious situation. That’s why these habitiual actions are important - I’ll need to take little steps, to gather strength and get up to speed while avoiding the pitfalls. Part of the task is letting go of things outside of my scope of direct influence, instead concentrating on what I can do every day. 
028-Portland
??????
010208 - It’s a brand new year, and resolutions are in effect. A year of the Rat, Capricorn, and Earth, this one concentrates on the habitual, the ritual, and the practical, with good potential for modest rewards. Rat is the first sign in the Chinese zodiac; the cycle starts again soon, and Rat will be out on point, setting the tone for years ahead. My resolutions are based on those from years past, now recycled and renewed. Last year was a time of good success - I escaped San Francisco to immediate relief. I’ve traveled, house-sit, joined a mobile bus tour, camped, crashed, and otherwise transitioned between a dozen beautiful locations, living more closely with my friends and family while still able to make ends meet along the way. This has inspired me to take the vagabond lifestyle to the next level - I’m happier this way. Using the online calendar to forecast, including reminders, I’m budgeting and scheduling out futher ahead. This year is the second iteration of the loose annual tour, which I hope to hone in on and develop as time progresses. I’m taking up writing with renewed vigor, as the text from last year’s entries starts to go up on the blog. I’ll use this time to excercise my thoughts and gain discipline in becoming a better writer. The words are the goal, not the time - if my writing gets better and faster from daily habit, this resolution is still fulfilled. This sort of time management will be practiced on other resolution items as well - same with the hour of walking, stretching, running, swimming, or other excercise. Another habit: choose the two highest-priority items of the day and do these important things first, cutting out the noise and concentrating on the signal. These resolutions are just guidelines to the minimums needed to maintain development in these areas of my life.