had a good weekend. hopped on my bike friday night, for the first time in a long while, and pedaled through the bike lanes of SF scoping out folsom street night life and enjoying the mild evening weather as i headed to caltrain.
on the train i listened to some new music. really feeling digital disco 2. for the next X days when people ask me what kind of music i listen to i'll tell them "digital disco." when they ask what that is, i'll turn up my nose, because if you gots to axe, you'll never know.
got off at california street, near palo alto, and made my way through suburban streets to shawn's house. we played xbox on the huge projection tv system he borrowed from work. prince of persia: sands of time look really good on a 6ft tall screen. hell even super mario brothers looks good on a 6ft tall screen. welcome to warp level.
in the morning we hopped on our bikes and rode through the wetlands, following trails along sludgy waterbanks. the sun was shining and everybody was out. real ducks cavorted with fake ducks. we rode down manmade waterfalls, up hills, through bike parks, over highways, across bridges, for 3 or 4 hours. at one point we were coming down a hill at top speed and out of nowhere a rut appeared in front of me on the trail. i didn't have time to get out of the way and my front tire smacked into the rut, and i felt a sickening lurch as my body somersaulted over the handlebars and i careened into the ground. scratched up my left hand, right arm and both knees. we found the perfect cure at the end of the hill-- a few kids had set up a lemonade stand. we bought two big glasses of pink lemonade and sipped them in the blazing sun. a perfect summertime moment. one of the kids' moms noted my bloody hand/arm/knees and asked if i'd taken a dive. "maybe," i replied defensively.
later that day, more xbox, met up with jenny, az. and sandeep for ostrich burgers etc. at the tied house. in the evening we watched mississippi masala. that's a hard word to spell-- misissippi? missisippi? anyway the movie was better than i thought it would be, and my initial outrage at the thought that they might be using white actors to play indian roles subsided when i saw all the indian names in the credits. it was interesting as a period piece-- one black guy in the movie wears a minature flavor flav clock around his neck. was that a real trend? i thought only flavor flav did that, but maybe there were imitators.
on sunday we met up with the boys for a friendly racquetball tournament. surprisingly, shawn and i went 3-0 against sandeep/arnie, tj/jay and then sandeep/arnie again. they call shawn 'hot sauce' because his serve is so blazin. since shawn was heavily sunburned from our previous day's bike ride, his new nickname was "lobster sauce."
after that we headed back to watch some of the spurs vs kings game. i'm not into basketball but it was fun to watch with those guys because of the constant wisecracking. though loathe to leave the peanut gallery, az. and i needed to get back, so we bid adieu and caught the calbus to milbrae, then bart to our familiar grimy neighborhood.
grimy, yet i have a fondness for it. i was conceiving of my block the other day as a confluence of neighborhood rivers. you have the yuppies from noe valley, the richer types from marina, the working class from south mission, the gay guys from castro, the hippies from berkeley, all meeting and mingling. the constant influx of different people is a source of renewal. it's definitely one of the more diverse places you could pick to live in. it's true that i sometimes wish to live somewhere where you don't have to dodge countless homeless shopping carts and where you don't ever see people pissing on the street. but even if we eventually move, i don't regret having been in the mission all this time.
we ended sunday night watching "network", which is highly overrated and i don't recommend. it was so overacted that i felt like i was watching a bad off-broadway play. also, faye dunaway has no ass. that's not attractive yo! i'm not saying a girl's got to have 20 pounds of chunk in the trunk, but no ass at all? just not my thing.
so that concludes my recounting of the weekend, which neither i nor anybody else will bother reading. but let it remain here as a reminder that in springtime, the living is fine.