I'm a lasagna boy!

The Girl From Monday

Hal Hartley introduced his latest project, The Girl from Monday at The Roxie. After the screening, he cheerfully fielded questions, discussing his methods when filming film stock vs. digital video, on which TGFM was shot; his approach to music composition and film scoring ("I wrote the music first, then shot"); and whether he and Martin Donovan, one of his frequent collaborators, will work together again ("Yes." I was quite glad that someone asked).

The film was evocative, the plot funny, and the music a good complement. Bill Sage, carving the handsome, do-good profile of a latter-day Cary Grant, plays an adman caught up in the new economy he helped create, where citizens are stockholders in the corporate machine of consumerism. Disposable income is a driving force behind the market, until The Company (known as Triple M) develops a method for using sex to increase shareholder value. Many of the grainy exterior scenes were shot in Lower Manhattan and the Lower East Side, and evoke the timeless business of a city.

In an interview with Green Cine, Hartley remarked that he draws inspiration from the textures of Sonic Youth. And before the show, Greg treated us to a rendition of the dance from Hartley's Simple Men, set to Kim Gordon's crooning of "Kool Thing".

I'm posting this for Joseph, who had to bail at the last minute in order to save the world from stale search results (his heroics succeeded! hurrah!).

On the enforcement of parking regulations

With these handy print-able pamphlets, San Francisco hopes to keeps the streets in order.

Why is this enforcement critical? San Francisco needs to maintain its sidewalks clear for pedestrians. Even as more sidewalk ramps are put in place (never mind the man in this neighbourhood who habitually steers his red wheelchair through the streets).

Did you know that during peak hours, having a tow will take more than two hours? So the most important thing is avoiding the need for a tow in the first place. Although it is possible to have a private company tow an offending car, but it's more complicated, since there's no DPW citation.

Fudgeripple Pouchhappy

While looking for a copy of "The Man Who Stole The Atlantic Ocean", I found that the Main Libray now has wireless internet access. Spiffy: perhaps I'll work there today, although the library does not have the book (which is no longer in print, but available for $15 from online secondhand booksellers).
A synopsis of the book: fat retired beach-goers find thmselves social outcasts, and take their revenge by secreting the Atlantic Ocean in the basement of their New Jersey club-house. The illustrations -- line drawings, if I remember aright -- of the protagonist, a Mr Fudgeripple Pouchhappy, delight. Eventually, kids save the day.

While we're discussing infrastructure in San Francisco, why is the SFPD's online crime map application so lame?

A different city

To kick off the merry merry month of May, New York hosts the annual Five Boro Bike Tour. I do'n't have my act together for this year, but riding over the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge sounds glorious. The faithful will attend the Blessing of the Bikes tomorrow morning at St John the Divine (and perhaps go down the block for some wings and a pint afterwards).
What would it take to organise a Four Bridges bicycle ride in the Bay Area? The
Al Zampa bridge already has a bike lane; a token bicycle path is in place on the Dumbarton Bridge; the new Bay Bridge (a "bridge of superlatives") will feature a bicycle lane, at least half-way (!!); all that remains is to close the Golden Gate so that cycles can pour across it.

These are the people that you meet Pt X

Almost every morning, an older man (I hesitate to call him a gentleman) walks up to the café with his handsome Labrador retriever. He invariably wears old denim jeans and a grey sweatshirt, covers his white hair with a blue baseball cap, and carries a rubber chicken. He walks in the front door, drops the dog's leash, and admonishes him to "Stay!".
The dog looks as his master walks towards the counter, and then follows, tail a-wagging. Of course he will. The man turns around, inept and furious: "Stay! I said sit!", but the dog wanders towards the counter, tongue out.
For reference, the café has hitching posts outside the door where customers typically attach dog leashes. The sign on the door,"No dogs allowed by order of the Health Department", has faded and torn.

As seen on my way to work

If at first you do'n't succeed

The U.S. Mint is hoping that the third time is a charm when it comes to dollar coins. Perhaps if women aren't featured these will catch on? Never you mind, the gold bouillion series will feature First Ladies.

doggerel

As the word doggerel appeared in the book I read on the morning bus and in an email message, I decided to search the internet for it, and was justifiably alarmed at the first result (I'm feeling lucky, indeed!).
Usually I hear the word and immediately think of poetry by Ogden Nash.

Punk rock in the Holy Land

Liz Nord's documentary on punk rock in the Holy Land, Jericho's Echo, had its San Francisco premiere last month.

       Punk historians quibble about the exact origins of punk music, but for more than 30 years it has surfaced across the world, from the United States and Great Britain to the People's Republic of China.

In Israel, a vibrant punk scene has emerged in a society torn apart by the conflict between Israelis and Palestinians. In these four candid video interviews, FRONTLINE/World reporter and filmmaker Liz Nord talks to the musicians driving the movement.

Like other young Israelis, the punk rockers have been affected personally by the conflict. They have fought as soldiers and lost friends and fans killed by suicide bombers. Bands from both ends of the political spectrum use their music to comment on Israeli society. Others make music just to have fun. But all of them agree that punk rock represents freedom.

Would you like to see pictures of the cat?

... and more photographs of Sprout!

Who's a war pig?

Fuckin' a.

On the shortcomings of Bay Area transit

While Caltrain declares a fiscal emergency, the state delayed a vote for funding high-speed rail in the Los Angeles-to-San Francisco corridor, and regional transit agencies in the Bay Area still do'n't have their act together. Amtrak's once-heralded Acela express in the heavily-travelled Northeast corridor was stopped dead in its tracks, the result of poor design and planning.

News analysis runs alarming stories with screamers like "Transit shortcomings put more cars on the bridge": "Improvements such as the extension of Caltrain into downtown, the construction of the Third Street light-rail system, reconstruction of the decrepit Transbay Terminal and a Chinatown subway are touted to dramatically improve downtown transit interchanges. A major ferry system expansion is in the works, and BART has plans to ramp up service in the long term." -- all of these projects have faced severe delays, with planning, funding, and execution. BART service changes? Doubtful. BART service area expansion? Unlikely, considering that one of that project's strongest advocates was pushed out last week.

American needs efficient rail service. The service should be urban and rural, although the need is greatest for intra- and inter-urban routes. American legislature does not feel pressure from lobbyists, most of whom are grassroots rather than industry, and for this reason under-funds and hamstrings the national and civic rail infrastructure. As recent experience in Britain, which privatised its rail service to the frustration of most, has shown, rail must be run as a loss-leader of sorts: in order to save money in the long term, investments in rail must be taken now. Failing to make this commitment now will result in higher long-term costs for development, for highway infrastructure, and less-efficient commute times for Americans in dense population areas.

On the 'Goldilocks price' of parking

Donald Shoup presents his economic theory of parking. The "high cost of parking" is a favourite topic of Professor Shoup's.

In which I get old and crotchety

For perhaps the first time in my long, happy life, I stared down a box of donuts today. Usu. I look longingly on the deep-fried and glazed, but today the pink carton (why are pastry boxes always always pink?) held no appeal. This may be a long-term effect of my anti-corn-syrup stance. I'm still working on anti-soy-lecithin, but, thanks to David Kessler, we know what's what in foods. I recently started a "no-food-from-a-bag" policy, so I'm not eating crisps or pretty much anything processed. It's okay if I put the food in a bag myself: salad stuff, for example, or almonds. Or thin slices (lonchas) of dry-cured ham from the butcher on the corner.
I do have high esteem for Sammy's donuts, who advertise their ingredients and methods. And keep a tidy, pretty corner shop.

After the bell tolls

Dammit. Why am I always hungry for dinner after everything within three blocks has closed? What about ten o'clock tells restaurants to turn off the gas and shutter the windows? Even Rosamunde, blessèd be ye name, kills the sautée pan for the onions well before the bells chime in for ten. Now my choices are the "we-serve-alcohol-to-minors-and-then-lie-about-it" crumby taqueria Las Mesas, or the strangely doughy and tasteless Mythic Pizza. I suppose that Ali Baba, who put fried potatoes in the shawarma, are also open. Perhaps I do have choices, but I'm just irritable. I want a juicy burger without having to walk down to Sparky's. Ooooh: burgermeister!

the 404

has the mother of all interchanges. Somewhere I have a sadly-unread copy of the intimidating, scholarly Houston Freeways, Erik Slotboom's labour of love. It too has many impressive photographs, as well as interestingly detailed accounts of many roads, flyovers, and intersections.

Rediscovering the oldies

Thanks for my l33t sk1||z with smart playlists in iTunes, I've been pleasantly surprised this past week with Wire's seminal Pink Flag, Eleventh Dream Day's luminous cowpunk indie-rock El Moodio, and Portishead's first. For a thirty-year old album, Pink Flag really holds up with style. Listening to it over headphones (was that the first time I've ever done that?), I realised that it even has good production values. For a punk-rock masterpiece.

Now I need to write a playlist that grabs albums where most of the songs have four stars or more.

Putting the classical edu. to work

This morning, one of my colleagues played the audio stream of the announcement from The Holy See. The College of Cardinals announced "habeamus Papam Benedictum XVI" and I heard and understood the Latin. Then the radio commentator burst in with an analysis in Italian, and I was lost (my knowledge of the vulgar tongue drops off after the 14th century).

I was never a Latin nurd, though. I blame Virgil and his bees.

There is no frigate like a fixie

After losing the second Dutchess, I've been trying out the Kogswell (photos to come) and the Bianchi Pista (photos to come).
The Kogswell, a beautiful buttercream colour with a matching honey Brooks saddle. The geometry is classic, 80s 10-speed: luxuriously long chainstays, gentle steerer tube, and a beautiful rake on the fork. The concession to modernity comes in the rear fork ends, which are track-style (but with two sets of eyelets, for fenders and a rack!). Unfortunately, I picked up a 58cm frame, which is a little uncomfortable with stand-over (I'm shy of six foot). I think I can remedy this by cutting the steerer down (it's stacked with spacers presently), and putting a shorter stem on it. The kogswell is a looker, too, and t'ain't none like 'er in the area.

As for the Pista: Whoah nelly. I have the earlier chrome model, which features the tricolore decals. This bike is not meant for commuting! it's for the track. Or for long stretches in Golden Gate Park. Riding it with a brake seems wrong, although I'd be foolhardy to do so on the streets. It's a smooth, quick ride, but not yet comfortable over long distances. I even saw some kid riding one while I scooted down to the bus this morning -- though he had a noisy freewheel and two cool-kid 'cross brakes. No love, no recognition: everyone's got one of these bikes.

calipygian merriment

Everyone's favourite lexicographer, Erin McKean, propped up the internet as a source for analysing trends in vocabulary. As for the calipygian merrimentsic, well, that came from the recesses of Aram's mind.

Lusitania

In search of a yarn about seagoing shenanigans, I picked up Diana Preston's Lusitania (with the coy sub-title "An Epic Tragedy").

The third sentence: "... they found that the flashes were not the desperate signals of a last, despairing survivor ... ."

And again, a few pages later: "The story of the Lusitania is, above all, about people -- whether British, German, or American, whether afloat on the liner, submerged in the submarine, or enmeshed in the various government machines ashore."

This sort of vocabuulary-deprived writing hurts my brain. I intensely dislike launching into a 500-page book when the author cannot write sentence tightly enough to avoid repeating root words. I'm not looking for synonyms, I just want expressive, clear history. Although the author has an extensive section of citations, the writing style seems more like Zagat's than like an academic work. Sentences are peppered with single-word quotations, or built from phrases enclosed in quotation marks.

The author capably relates the technical history involved in the sinking of the Lusitania, and the exciting naval developments leading to Germany's challenge for maritime supremacy. Sometimes she presumes historical knowledge I don't have, and this made the first few chapters rough going.

Light 'em if you got 'em

Greg has very enthusiastically mentioned his hip new bike lights, and after pedalling 'round town with him last night, I picked up a set of the new Cateyes. They are small, but bright. Their claim to fame is that they mount almost anywhere, with elasticized cords that cinch around a bicycle frame, through a helmet vent, on a handlebar, et cetera. And they're magnetically-activated, which is, well, a gimmick. But they sure are convenient.
Being seen is the hardest part of cycling in a city. Car drivers rarely look to the side, where a cyclist is likely to be riding between parked and moving traffic; nor are cyclists especially visible, as most municipalities have no regulation concerning bike illumination.
San Francisco's Department of Parking and Traffic publish a brochure showing how to light up, and have been promoting cycle safety on the side of buses, ironically enough.
A few years ago the SFPD nailed me as I was pedalling up Steiner past Herman. Their cruiser didn't stop at the stop sign controlling westbound traffic on Herman, and nearly collided with me as I travelled north on Steiner. They pulled me over, asked for ID, and started to write a citation for not having (of all things) side reflectors (I was sporting both front and rear LEDs). And just as the officer was getting to the meat of the ticket, a call came over the radio. The officer glared at me as the radio sqwaked, and tossed my ID back at me. "Lucky for you we've got bigger fish to fry!" he said as he jumped back into the car and roared away.

Salt into the public-transit wound.

The esseffessist nails one of the other good things about MUNI when they proudly show off the view from the N Judah as it exits the Market St. Subway and turns down Embarcadero.
Gorgeous.
... but this is all for naught given MUNI's latest plan: raise fares and cut service (what a winning combination!).
I've already written to my supervisor.
I will happily support a higher fare for the same level of service. I will not suffer higher fares for cuts in service. MUNI service is so bare-bones as it is, I ca'n't imagine less. Even though I live on a corner with 4 bus lines, I usually walk down to Civic Center. The 25 minutes is equivalent to the wait and ride on a 6/66/7/71[L], even at 7.25.

Oh yes: Rescue MUNI is a great resource.

These are the people that you meet Pt IX

While walking down to the bus this morning, I stopped in at the bank. I asked the cashier for some dollar coins, but she ruefully held out a hand filled with dingy Sacagaweas, and said, "How about some fifty-cents instead?" Good suggestion. I happily came away with a pocket full of JFK half-dollar pieces.

Some of them wear no pants

Stencil Revolution has an awesome gallery, great forums, and cut-the-crap tutorials.

The wrong sort of good news

Caltrain are adding more express service, but addressed the press with the headline "... more bullet trains to help fiscal crisis:

Caltrain Adding Two More Bullet Trains to Help Fiscal Crisis

Caltrain will begin operating two more of its popular Baby Bullet trains May 2 to generate revenue as quickly as possible to help offset a fiscal crisis that threatens the survival of the rail line.

Responding to requests for an express train later in the morning and earlier in the afternoon, the additional Bullets will depart San Francisco at 8:11 a.m. and San Jose at 3:47 p.m.

Take ones with the schedule will be available later this month; the schedule also will be on this website by Monday, April 18. The two trains will make the same stops as Caltrain’s other reverse-peak Baby Bullet trains: San Francisco, 22nd Street (San Francisco), Millbrae, Hillsdale (San Mateo), Palo Alto, Mountain View and San Jose Diridon.

The two trains are being rushed into the Caltrain line-up two months ahead of a planned schedule change in July in the hope that they will chip away at Caltrain’s looming deficit.

Since they were introduced in June 2004, Caltrain’s 10 Baby Bullet trains have been extremely popular, most of them operating at capacity. Not only that, they generate nearly twice as much revenue as local trains, which make all local stops.

If service continues without significant changes, Caltrain will have to close a projected deficit of $13.6 million. Caltrain’s policy board, which includes three members each from agencies in San Francisco, San Mateo and Santa Clara counties, faces the formidable challenge of finding ways to close the deficit.

Caltrain does not have a dedicated funding source of its own and gets about 30 percent of its revenue from passenger fares and the remainder as subsidies from the three member agencies.

What hath God wrought?

"If I needed to build a 3,000-hole golf course on Mars, this is the man I'd call." Has to be the best endorsement ever. This article chronicles the adventure of laying fiber across three continents, under the ocean, and the amazing convolutions political and mechanical therein.

That's it, that's the whole of the law

Cody wrote about a run-in with the law when he took a photograph of the new Mint. On the heels of the MTA's attempt to ban photography in the subways, this caused me alarm. The ever-present threat of terrorism, once domestic (viz., Eric Rudolph, who has just pleaded guilty to several bombings around Atlanta in the late '90s), now shadowy and international, has become a blanket excuse for ad-hoc delineation of the rights described in the First, Fourth, Sixth, and Ninth Amendments.
So I took a stroll past the Mint this afternoon, and while I did so, took some snaps. Within thirty seconds (four frames!), two unmarked white cars pulled up in front of me, and a magisterial officer stepped out of one:
Paul Cochlin, but I might be mis-spelling his family name. He surprised me by addressing me politely. He asked if I was taking photographs of that building, and I said Yes. He told me that it was a Federal Building, and that he was responsible for its security. He also said that it was not against the law to photograph the building, but that anyone taking photographs of this particular building aroused curiosity. He asked for ID, which I declined to present. He told me that he could not detain or arrest me, but then asked why I was taking pictures. I told him that I lived nearby, and am interested in how the neighbourhood looks. He nodded and said that was a common response (ha! that's what digital cameras have done: elevated sloppy graff and urban blight to art!). We then stood there and chatted for several minutes about the history of the building (I feigned that I didn't know the history of the New Mint), and he said that the corner down near the Duboce Yard was once a Standard Oil filling station. He was courteous yet firm: exactly the sort of clear-headed security officer I'd want guarding important installations. He also had a badge and a gun, and identified himself. I'm still uncomfortable that photographing a Federal building draws so much attention.
The "new" San Francisco Mint (plenty photos online) currently produces only proof coins, according to a numismatic web site.

Did they pour one on the kerb as well?

Graff memorials for JP II:

http://www.gothamist.com/archives/2005/04/12/remembering_the_pope_streetstyle.php;
http://www.taleoftwocities.org/2005/04/pope-moves-to-spanish-harlem.php (name-checked by CNN);
http://www.curbed.com/archives/2005/04/11/pope_john_paul_ii_in_the_les.php.

A wing and a prayer

jimg and I have a newfound ritual: Burgermeister wings each Monday (half-price!). Although on occasion we are stymied: we arrive too late, and others have devoured all the wings. This time we were momentarily adrift, and walking south'ards across Market, when we decided to jump in a cab and head to Giordano Bros., where we enjoyed Pittsburgh-style sammiches and reminisced with proprietor Jeff about all the greasy-spoons and bars we knew in Da Burgh: Chiefs, Silky's, Denny's (jimg's favourite), Mitchell's, and the late, much-lamented Chiodo's.

H is for hapax legomenon

Amazon now produces a concordance for each book for which it has digitized content; it also has a short list of "statistically improbable phrases", which amount to hapax legomena. Amusingly, the wikipedia entry suggests that a googlewhack is the modern-day equivalent.

Blanxart xocolata negra

Liz sent a bar of the most delicious chocolate from the city that makes the most fantastic chocolates. A bar of Blanxart xocolata negra came in the post, and I carried it with me everywhere. At the café, the man sitting at the adjacent table asked if the beautiful wrapper was letterpress; I don't know, but it certainly has that look. Yum. And yum.

Reading round-up

Over the past few days, I've been sick abed and working the page-turners: P.G. Wodehouse (the Jeeves Omnibus, including "Carry On, Jeeves" and "The Inimitable Jeeves"; I wish I had some Blandings books handy); John Grisham ("The Chamber"); Stephen King ("Pet Sematary"); Dorothy Sayers ("Clouds of Witness"); and a very, very unwieldy paperback ed. of Cervantes' "Don Quixote".
Anna and I walked down to the main library and I read through a stack of shorter Jean Merrill books, but, alas, "The Pushcart War" was unavailable. For a public library, the SFPL has a dearth of available popular titles, and its small collection is oddly scattered to the branch libraries. I find this library system creepy for its inability to hang on to copies of books: of 10 copies of "The Pushcart War", not a single copy was available for circulation, and only one was actually checked out. To its credit, the SFPL has a netflix-like reservation system, and I can even choose the branch to which desired titles will go for my convenience.

Mission and 24th / Valencia and 16th

BART stations drew violence yesterday: at 24th Street, a youth wielding a machete (!! -- where had he concealed it? down his baggy pants?) chased a man off a Razr Scootr and around a truck parked next to the McDonalds. Other youth, perhaps a third party to the fray, threw filled bottles of beer noisily into the street as they drove past.
A few hours later, at 16th Street, a lanky young man kept sticking his head in the corner store and hollering crude obscenities at the shop-keeper. Eventually he goaded the shop-keeper into coming out of the store and assailing him, while he pretended to dial 911. A tattooed man came along and very calmly separated the two, while the instigator kept screaming obscenities interspersed with an imaginary conversation with the police.
And to avoid it all, we hopped into a cab. The hackie told us that we could go anywhere except where those rambunctious Tiburon folk were: someone had just shot a tollbooth operator on the Golden Gate Bridge

From little things big things grow

Container City's web site has an interesting FAQ covering the technical details of reusing shipping containers for such structures as housing, school buildings, and office space. Recently I saw Shigeru Ban's Nomadic Museum, designed to house a travelling exhibit of Gregory Colbert's "Ashes and Snow" photography exhibit.

For the Nomadic Museum, 148 empty containers are stacked in a self-supporting grid. Fourteen containers will be used to ship building materials; the remaining ones will be rounded up at the museum’s next port of call. “The idea came from the fact that these can be found in every place the museum will travel to,” says Ban. “I have not made anything new. I’m just finding a new function for them.” A tentlike fabric fills in the gaps between the containers and serves as the roof.

Oh no, Mr Yuk!

Scott and Haight, Part II

Eastbound cyclists and skateboarders rarely heed the stop sign at the bottom of Haight, where the street meets Scott. Sometimes this has dire consequences. The car did not fare well, either. Three prowlers, two police motorcycles, two hook-and-ladder trucks, and one ambulance later, the cyclist was taken to hospital. He was at least alive: five years ago, I saw a cyclist receive severe cranial injuries at this same intersection.

Let's get multi-modal

It's not like we need the Transbay Terminal or anything. After years of ballot initiatives and endless wrangling by state agencies, San Francisco has no multi-modal transit center. The Caltrain depot features the most half-hearted attempt to bridge MUNI, requiring passengers to cross a freeway onramp to move between the N-Judah light rail and Caltrain heavy rail; downtown BART is two blocks from the ferry terminal; and BART and MUNI themselves rarely play well together outside of the Market St. subway.
So I don't care that the new Transbay is on hold (again).

The Client

On a rainy Saturday in Pittsburgh*, I raided a friend's bookshelf and came up with a comfortably worn paperback of John Grisham's The Client. I read it the rest of the day as I shuttled back and forth on the bus and subway, and came close to completion overnight while watching the time change. This morning, as I waited for a car to take me to the airport, I raced to finish the book: "Okay, 30 pages, about half an hour." I could so do that. And then I realised, as I turned the last leaf, that a sheaf of pages had dropped from the cheap glue at the end of the binding, and I wouldn't finish the page-turner. Undaunted, I figured that the newsstands at the airport would have the book, and I could stand quietly in a corner and discover how Grisham, never the master of the powerful ending, wound up this book (which is quite good: Grisham writes great legal thrillers, much better than Scott Turow). Frustratingly, the three shops at the terminal had almost every other of his books (really: the one on the ground floor had almost a dozen thick paperback titles by him).
I was totally foiled, stymied, thwarted. And by the time I get to the library, I'll have forgotten all of the exciting action of the preceding 75 pages.

* Not really in Pittsburgh; I just really like the phrase, from one of P.G. Wodehouse's wickedly humourous novels. I wish I'd been reading Wodehouse instead.

Catch-up.

I'm back-filling blog entries for the past week, when I was strangely without computer and / or 'net access. I read: Mole People, something which made Anna turn up her nose in disgust; visited a few zoos, including the Aquarium and Coney Island; risked arrest for reading about riding a bicycle; and took it easy.

One hot week pays for all

It's true: I have left San Francisco and moved to Portland to be my own boss. Hell yeah. (Thanks jimg for the link!)

Precedents for pedestrian zones

The Vision42 Project, a tightly-organised group of Midtown activists, have a great page about the precedents for their proposed pedestrian zone along 42nd Street (and its accompanying light rail).

      In many ways, creating an auto-free street is largely a political, rather than a technical decision. A main stumbling block to the reintroduction of light rail in New York has been a reluctance to take any street space away from automobiles. In Manhattan, where only 23% of the households even own cars, perhaps a different set of priorities ought to obtain.