Posts Tagged ‘cop’

Nice, Like Nice With Cheese Butter On Top

January 24, 2014

“Say cheesebutter!”  I urge one of my charges when I take a photographs of him.

It’s a word he made up.

“Cheesebutter, it makes everything better,” I smile and take his picture.

I am going to 850 Bryant tomorrow after I get up and do my daily routine and make sure that I am all nice and calm and serene and in a good head space and spiritual and shit.

And I am going to be nice.



That was my decision tonight when I was talking to someone about the red light incident on Tuesday and how I did a lot of writing about it and began to not only have forgiveness for the cop but actual compassion, hey, how much fun can it be doing his job?

I mean, my job?

Loads of fun.

Today I went to two different parks, was told I love you by my charge, had my hand-held as we walked through the Pan Handle park, got hugs, had her request that I sing “Hush Little Baby” to her, had her fall asleep in my lap in her rocking chair, had an Americano at the Mill, walked all over NOPA, took fabulous photographs of street art by E. Claire Bandersnatch,








went to Bi Rite for an apple and a bag of Holler Mountain Stumptown, had an amazing lunch with my lady, who slept two hours and twenty-five minutes, and then we capped off the day with a play date at Alamo Square Park and ran into a friend from Music Together class.

My job does not suck.

That cop, he has a job I would not want to have.

So, compassion for a person doing a job I don’t want to do and am really grateful that I don’t have to do.

Plus, as I was sharing with a woman who told me that the same night that I had my ticket incident, she hit a pedestrian in a cross walk, did not see him coming and he flew up over her windshield.

Now that makes one grateful for a ticket.

I did not get hit on my bike ride, in fact, I realized, I was slowed down, I was slowed down tonight riding that same route back home, slow, stopping not “running” any reds, and what do you know, I got to see three cops pulling over another person with a traffic infraction and listen to sirens wailing for another accident down the road.

None of these had anything to do with me except that I slowly, and cautiously rode past them.

So, tomorrow, grateful that I have a day off during the week, I  don’t normally, when I can actually go and spend time standing in line for room 145 at 850 Bryant.

Show up.

Suit up.

Let go of the results.

I know I was at fault and I am just going to go pay the fine.

I don’t have to be right.

I can just be happy.

And nice.

What if my only purpose was to go spread some good cheer at 850?

How many folks resolve to be nice when they go to 850?

I don’t believe all that many.

And I am not going to go and be nice because I think I am going to get off the ticket, I don’t think I can, I ran the red.

Granted, yes I was at a full stop and yes, I did look both ways, and yeah, the light was going to change, but was I in the wrong?


So, be the adult and sack the fuck up.

Then I thought about my friend who had his bicycle stolen off the front of a MUNI bus.

I didn’t have my bike stolen.

I got to ride it to my awesome job today.

I did not get hit by a car in an intersection on foot.

I did not spend the last two days in the psyche ward at General.

Loads to be grateful for.

Oh, and like, hey, I have a three-day weekend!

I will pay my ticket then go on up to the Castro to see Barnaby, who just happened to have a cancellation in his schedule and will fit me in to touch up the stars on my neck and add two more for my anniversary.


Afterward a manicure.

After that?

Well, I will be in and around the Castro neighborhood, then over to Our Lady of SafeWay to see some fellows.

Then if I have it in me, dancing at Public Works.

I’ll have it in me.

Unless something else awesome comes my way, which it might, you know, I have some special good feelings, like with cheese butter on top good, about tomorrow.

I will get to sleep in tomorrow.

I will take a leisurely hot shower, eat an awesome breakfast, drink really good coffee (I went to Bi-Rite!), write for a while, then take a sunny ride through the Pan Handle, then on down to 850 Bryant to see what happens when I show up and have accountability.

Life, I suppose.

A really good life.

A life built on responsibility, showing up, taking actions, letting go of the results, a faith-based life where I go despite the fear of financial insecurity, because I can afford it and ultimately, the money is not my money, it’s just this energy that I have been given to spread about me.

I shall spread it cheerfully.

Like a warm golden pool of cheese butter over grits.

I am going to love it up tomorrow at 850.

I might get obnoxious with it.

I will have fun with it.

I am actually, haha, kind of looking forward to going.

I will make sure I have a book to read and I will pay whatever I have to pay, and then you know what I will do?

I will fucking leave.

That’s the best part of it all.

I don’t have to stay.

I did not do anything to incur a real “visit” there and I haven’t in just a touch over 9 years.

That, that is what is really nice.

Like, cheese butter nice.



Have A Safe Ride Home

January 22, 2014

He said somewhat sheepishly and stepped back toward the curb.

That’s right, you fucking shit bag, step the fuck back.

And why don’t you step the fuck up on the curb, you might see eye to eye with me at that point you short little douche bag ass hat.



Hey, and you know what, sign here is not an admission of guilt fuck face, I will see you in court you short dick little pussy man.

And I will wear platform heels just to tower over you a little more.

Did your little dick get all hard writing me that ticket?

What the fuck.

There are fifteen people who I just avoided getting doored by in the last block, not to mention the three, yes, three illegal u-turns in the middle of the intersection looking for parking and you give me a ticket.

Oh, I know, I have to obey the rules of traffic you shit fuck.

But come the fuck on.

I was at a full stop.

Speed of vehicle at time of incident?

0 mph.

At least you were honest about that you ass hat.

I was at a full stop, foot completely on the ground, looked both ways, why, because its god damn Irving Street and I was already jacked up from avoiding the usual idiots trying to make the light.

That’s what bugs me the most.

Really bugs me.

I could have made the light.

But the car ahead of me was signalling to turn and then whipped a bitch the opposite way.

Here I was patting myself on the back for not getting killed and you fucking give me a ticket for running a red light.

Fuck you.

I say a little louder.

What a complete and utter fail.

My bicycle sense has been poking at me all week, I have been riding my brake, stopping at intersections, see full foot down (I call this the Marin School of riding-in Marin if you don’t put a full foot down, not just tapping your toes, but actually come to a full stop with the entire foot down at a stop sign or intersection you can get a ticket) in previous paragraph peppered with expletives, really being careful.

I have just had bad bicycle feeling in my bones.

I was not expecting it to be a ticket.

In fact, as I was riding home, riding my brake, I was thinking that this maybe part of the ongoing soreness in my shoulder–this riding so defensively for upwards of an hour a day every day.

My brake is on my front side and my right shoulder is dying right now.

I actually tell myself to hold my handle bars lightly when I am riding, to not full on throttle them.

I don’t need the stress of riding in my arms that much, I want it to rest in my legs, which can take it, and not in my arms or shoulders, which already get a full on work out all day long pushing the stroller, picking up the boys, heaving, lifting, going up and down stairs, pushing swings, picking up the constant detritus of the boys and their day.


I feel a little better for having said all the fuck you’s.

I know the guy was right.

And I would not have taken that red if I knew a cop was behind me.

I couldn’t decide who I was more mad at, him or me.

I mean, I think it’s a total bullshit move.

I acknowledge I ran a red.

But I didn’t.

I sort of meandered after sitting for ten seconds of the twelve second walk sign countdown and I looked both ways, I mean, turned my head, I really don’t want to get hit by a car and it was not motivated by there might be a cop behind me checking to see that I look both ways before crossing.

I think the dude was a little chagrined.

He certainly looked flustered when he asked where I was riding to and I said 46th and Irving, “Geez, that’s a really scary commute.”

Yeah, I said, one I take every day, and you know I had my foot down.  I was at a complete stop.

I dug my little hole and now I am going to have to go take care of it.

I was so livid when I walked in the house.

I can feel it getting angry in here as I write it out, but I screamed.

Not as loud as I wanted to.

I really wanted to belt one out.

That’s what I do when I get horribly angry.

I scream.

Don’t fucking teach me a lesson you fuck face.

I am so fucking careful when I ride.

The other thing that was funny was thinking, again, as I was riding, up to 19th, that hellacious inter section of doom, that I might want to get a car soon.

That the stress of the daily ride was actually a stress.

I say this as I got startled a couple of times by car’s parking and pulling out.

The feeling of nearly getting hit or narrowly avoiding it is unpleasant and intense.

I had it three times tonight.

Once slipping on gravel at an intersection where there is a lot of construction happening, my wheel slid a little and the feeling of free fall over took me for a minute before I straightened out.

Then again when the two folks pulled the illegal u-turns at 9th and Irving and the third at 18th and Irving.

Three times of yuck.

Then the cherry of my yuck sunday, a nice little citation and an order to appear in court or be fined.

Ass hat didn’t tell me what the fine is for the infraction and my friend who drives a cab and has protested some tickets said, show up and protest it, the cop likely won’t even show.

I have never been to traffic court.

I have never had points taken off my drivers licence.

Ain’t about to let it happen over a bicycle riding ticket.

Kiss my grits.

I probably wouldn’t even show if I knew what the fine is.

But since I don’t I will show up.

Get ready short stack.

I am coming.

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