A Possible Solution

Day by day.

One small action at a time.

Things are falling into place.

I bought my ticket last night.

I made some calls today.

And.

Ooh.

I got a message that will need some exploring, but it looks like I will have a fabulous friend’s set up at Burning Man.

In fact.

It may work out really well for both of us.

I have to go early and leave early.

She won’t be able to get there until the day or the day after I need to leave.

I can go, take her gear, tent, sleeping mattress, etc, and get her tent set up, have it for the first part of the event, then leave it there, all nice and set up for her to take over for the second part of the weekend.

I mean.

Freaking fabulous.

I will be conferring with her this Thursday.

Last Thursday I had the heart to heart with me, myself, and I, did some inventory, got right with God and made the leap to go to Burning Man.

Less than a week later, ticket purchased and possible camp set up, well, set up.

Freaking amazing.

Rather like the show I just came from.

Diana Ross.

DIANA ROSS!

So freaking good.

The woman is what, 72 years old?

And she can still sing.

I mean sing.

Here’s the set list from the show, In The Name of Love Tour:

1. “Overture”
2. “I’m Coming Out“
3. “More Today Than Yesterday“
4. “My World Is Empty Without You” / “Baby Love” / “Stop! In the Name of Love” / “You Can’t Hurry Love“
5. “Love Child“
6. “Instrumental Sequence”
7. “The Boss“
8. “Touch Me in the Morning“
9. “Upside Down“
10. “Love Hangover” / “Take Me Higher” / “Ease on Down the Road“
11. “Instrumental Sequence”
12. “The Look of Love“
13. “Don’t Explain“
14. “Why Do Fools Fall in Love“
15. “Theme from Mahogany (Do You Know Where You’re Going To)“
16. “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough“
17. “Instrumental Sequence”
18. “I Will Survive“

Encore

19. “I Will Survive” (Reprise)

 

The encore was actually shorter than I thought it would be, but her voice, by the end of the show was tight, it was just starting to get a little noticeable in her last two songs, but her energy was super high.

I was hella impressed.

And quite happy to see so many friends in the audience and to be there with my friend from school.

I felt super happy to be there and to see an icon and be in the theater with so many people who obviously just adored her.

So much joy.

“You are hitting musical jackpots,” my person texted me this morning.

She had asked what my principle was for today and I responded happy since I didn’t think fabulous was a spiritual principle, though, I could be wrong, it seems to fall under “joy of living.”

And she’s right.

I got to see Paul Simon at the Greek.

I have gotten to see Diana Ross at the Orpheum.

I am going to get to see Mike Doughty in somebody’s living room in Burlingame in September.

And who the hell knows who I will see at Burning Man.

Odds are generally good that I will see some good music.

The dj set I caught last year on top of the Mayan art car deep in the playa was astounding.

And since I won’t have to work, I will be able to go play and dance and not worry about getting “home” at a reasonable hour.

More like getting home, to San Francisco in time to see Mike Doughty play and get myself ready for the first weekend of my second year of school.

I had a moment of thinking about going to Outside Lands, but one, it’s sold out, and two, it’s sold out, and three, I’m not always great at great big festival thingy’s.

Too many people.

Yeah.

I know.

I’m going to Burning Man, but it’s pretty spread out.

It’s about as big as San Francisco in circumference.

It covers about seven square miles.

That’s a lot of space.

Outside Lands happens in Golden Gate Park and it has about oh 40-50 thousand people.

Per day.

That’s a lot of freaking people in a space that is not all that big.

I should know too, I live by the park and it is always a bit of a shit show the weekend of the festival.

I have only been once and that was almost three years ago when I first moved into this studio.

I had been given VIP passes by my employer for the last day of the event.

It was actually really a lot of fun to see Hall and Oates from VIP.

I saw a dj, who I can’t remember now, who was really good, and some fun people watching but I was pretty over it, pretty quick.

Too many people.

I did resolve though, tonight, watching Lady Diana Ross up on that stage, girl, she changed three, no, four times!  That I should make an effort to keep going to live music shows.

There is something about it that just fills me up.

And I love music.

Radio Head will be at Outside Lands, that might be fun to see, and Grimes.

But yeah, not too worried about missing the shows.

I will be busy with plenty of other things.

My weekend is getting a tiny bit booked up already and it’s just Tuesday.

A tentative MOMA date with a friend in the afternoon on Sunday.

A blind coffee date on Saturday in the early afternoon.

Doing the deal with the ladies.

Doing some yoga.

Really glad I got up this morning and went.

I will definitely be hitting the yoga again a few times this week.

Not tomorrow though, early to work and a longer day for me, it’s the dad’s birthday.

Ah.

Anyway.

Happy feet.

Sore feet.

Busy feet.

One step at a time.

Doing a little happy dance of joy.

Getting my diva on.

Diana Ross.

Getting my Burning Man.

Fuck yeah.

One foot in front of the other.

Life is fucking fabulous.

Seriously.

 

 

 

Crack And Cherry Popsicles

The sickly sweet smell preceded her as she walked out from the Mission Community Center.

She was wasted, sucked up.

Not the frenetic skinny tautness of a meth head.

This was classic crack head.

Sucked up and withered away.

And yes.

You guessed it.

I spotted it.

If you spot it, you got it.

I am so lucky that I got it, then it went the fuck away.

I had a day today and then I would get these moment, call them God shots if you will, coincidence, serendipity, what have you, but I saw them as divine signs as a gentle reminder that even when I “think” my load is heavy, it is light.

And it does not smell like artificial sweetener, corn syrup, and red dye number 127.

Or crack cocaine.

She saw me.

She saw me see her.

She scuttled away.

That’s the best way I can put it, scuttled, like a stunted hermit crab trying to escape a fat gull on the beach.

I put my hand on the head of the five-year old I and gently pushed him to walk on the other side of the stroller, he did not notice, too engrossed in the story he was telling me about the tooth fairy.

He has now officially lost two teeth and the tooth fairy better deliver tonight.

He’s got some expectations.

For the second tooth he wants.

Yes.

A hovercraft.

Dude.

Listen, I know it’s getting all sorts of crazy up in this joint, San Francisco rents, tech crazy, $2,000 skateboards zooming by on remote control, but little dude, I don’t think the tooth fairy is going to pony up for a hover craft.

Just saying.

Although he got to have so many special things today I’m surprised the kid could function.

He had a minor procedure and was in and out of the doctors and back home before I got to work, a simple thing, really nothing to worry about, but you know, kids, they can get anxious, so to assuage the anxiety and to help ease him through–it got to be his day.

Man what a day.

I’m not jealous of his day, it was too much of an emotional roller coaster what with the numerous videos and special snacks and outings, literally I was worn out with the treats before I had even been there an hour.

Prior to my arrival there was juice.

Popsicles.

Ice cream.

Bowls of oatmeal, which, yeah, sounds great, you know healthier than say a grape popsicle, but laced with raisins and mounds of brown sugar.

And the little brother got to imbibe too.

I have never walked into the inferno like this before.

The sugar tsunami was in full effect.

We did ease up, he only got one more cookie over the course of the day and special lunch out at Tacolicious, but it was an up and down day, sugar can take a lot out of kid and it took its course.

But he was also sweet and we had some wonderful moments today and I was pretty on keel.

In fact, considering how my day had started, I was doing hella good.

I feel like there was a lot of foreshadowing that there was going to be stuff happening and I remember praying this morning to get to work and home safely on my bicycle.

Well.

That did happen.

But so did a lot of near accidents.

Weird traffic.

And.

Yes.

A fucking traffic cop nabbed me on the Wiggle.

Fuckers are cracking down.

There is just nothing worse than the whoop of a traffic cop on a motorcycle (hello I’m on a bicycle, you don’t need to scare the fuck out of me as well as issue me a huge ass ticket) and the flash of the red and blues.

Do you have any idea who I am?

Sigh.

Just another fixed gear riding bicycle rider blowing through a stop sign on the Wiggle.

“You know there’s a stop there!” The cop hollered at me.

“Yes, I do, you are right,” I said, already in tears, partially because it was windy and partially due to the adrenalin of nearly getting smacked by a driver right before I turned onto the Wiggle where the trap was.

I swung my bag over my shoulder, pulled out my wallet, handed the cop my drivers licence and tried not to say anything.

I had just turned onto the Wiggle from Haight Street and zipped right into a truck that was in the middle of the road, no flashers, no cones, nada to indicate that it was about to drop a storage Pod onto the street as I rode by.

Nothing says good times like almost getting hit a second time on my bicycle commute.

Oh yeah, I didn’t mention that a fire truck blew through an intersection, and I heard it and pulled over, but the van right behind me, didn’t and proceeded forward only to almost get jack knifed by the engine which was blasting its sirens so loudly to warn the van that my entire body squeezed up in fear.

The van abruptly pulled over.

Narrowly missing me and the fire engine.

Add then, the Pod drop.

Then the cop pulling me over and of course I was in tears.

“You didn’t even slow down,” the cop sighed, shaking his head, “is this your current address?”

“Yes, it is,” I replied.

I did not reply.

I DID slow down.

You should have seen how fast I was going.

I always slow up at the stop signs, but yeah, a lot of times I roll through.

But.

I also always signal my turn, stop for any pedestrians in the cross walk and make sure the intersection is clear.

I don’t blow lights.

I don’t want to die.

I have been bicycling in the city for 9 years and it’s bad out there with the Uber drivers and the Lyft drivers and the tourists on the rental bicycles and the plethora of people bicycling through neighborhoods and it seems just mean, but yes, I did too slow down.

Damn it.

But did I stop?

No.

So, I’ll take my ticket.

But.

“I was startled by the Pod dropping in the middle of the road, it almost hit me, and you’re right, I didn’t stop, and I accept the ticket, but would you please go back and ask the driver to cone off the area, somebody’s going to smash into him.”

I reached for the ticket.

The cop leaned over, “sign this.”

And then, sotto vocce.

“Don’t say anything because my partner is writing out a formal ticket to the guy right next to you, but I’m just giving you a warning, ok?  You’re free to go and I’ll make sure the guy puts cones out.”

He patted my hand, ripped off the ticket and handed it to me.

Whoa.

Dude.

Did that just happen?

Amaze balls.

I hit it and obeyed the traffic laws the rest of the way to work.

Well.

Most of them.

Ahem.

And I was happily surprised that I was so even keeled.

All day.

Until.

My lunch break when I found out, that yes, the family is able to accommodate my request off for the 25th of my student orientation, but guess what?

They’re not going to be in Sonoma for a week.

They’re going to be in Sonoma for two and a half weeks.

Oh my fucking god.

Oh my fucking god.

Oh fuck me.

FUCK.

Breathe.

How old am I?

42.

Take forty of those suckers.

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.

“So we need to figure out all the rental car stuff before you head out to your student retreat,” the mom said clicking over her calendar.

OHMYGOD.

“Ok,” I said.

“I thought you were only going a week,” I said.

Breathe.

“Nope, two and a half, from the 14th through the 30th,” the mom replied.

HOLY SHIT.

I sort of fell of my spiritual beam.

Why?

Well, let me tell you the ways.

Cohort retreat with the incoming ICPW (Integral Counseling Psychology Weekend Cohort) students from this Sunday, August 9th through the 17th in Petaluma.

Then I turn around, come back to San Francisco, head to the air port, pick up a rental car and go back to Glen Ellen and work for the family until, yes, the 28th.

When I am supposed to leave for Burning Man.

I tried not to vomit out the fear in my mouth.

Away from my people for a month, my five ladies for a month, no for five weeks, because when I get back, the first weekend after Burning Man, is my first full on campus weekend.

Six weeks before I can meet with a lady bug.

I made some phone calls.

I got right with God.

I said, “however I can be of service, and yes, I will make up the date on the 25th by working an extra day for the family, either the 22nd or the 23rd (I have off the weekends still, but like it matters, the one day I have off will be spent packing my shit for Burning Man, good thing this is not my first rodeo).

And I will be accountable for the Monday prior to the student orientation and I will have to be back to work the morning after.

So, a fly by to San Francisco and then right back to Petaluma.

The good news?

I won’t have a lot of food expenses.

I get paid an extra $50 per day I’m with the family outside of San Francisco.

I will have a rental car so I can go do the deal in Sonoma and Petaluma.

I will be too busy to be freaked out about anything.

I will be so in the present moment it will be exalted.

And as I rode my bicycle home through the park tonight, the one fast filling up with lights and fences and stages and sound machines and port-a-potties (Outside Lands starts tomorrow) I was so in my body it was spooky.

And exhilarating.

I am alive.

ALIVE.

And there but for the grace of god go I.

No cherry popsicle for me today.

No crack cocaine.

Just all the things.

Wow.

I mean.

All the things I could possible schedule into my life.

Now’s the time I’m going to get asked out by the love of my life.

Because, hey why not pack something else into my schedule.

Bwahahahahaaha.

See you on the other side.

What A Day

What a day.

What a fucking day.

Whew.

I am tired thinking about it, exhilarated, and don’t even know where the hell to begin.

In no particular order.

Went to Outside Lands courtesy of my employers with my friend Radha.

We saw Hall & Oates, A-trak, Willie Nelson and Family, Vampire Weekend, and someone else who I am entirely forgetting, New Orleans funk brass band with guest Aaron Neville.

We sat and had Blue Bottle coffees in the VIP area and marvelled at the crowds.

We walked a lot.

I danced my butt off at A-trak.

And we left early.

I did not stay to see the Chili Peppers, I just was done in by the day, the dancing, the walking, the emotional excitement–although I heard them as I rode my bike from my place back into town, I had left my bicycle there and Radha and I walked from the house to the festival.

Yup.

I put the deposit down on my studio in-law in the Sunset.

Yes, folks, I am moving back to, not really sunny, San Francisco.

I will be living in the fog belt but I don’t care, I have Trouble Coffee, Judalicious (where I had lunch raw vegan “tacos” on collard green leaves with avocado, cashew sauce, shredded red cabbage and carrots, sunflower seed “pate” and for dessert a nectarine from the local organic co-op market), Java Beach Cafe (I am envisioning some Sunday paper action on the patio in the sunshine–it’s not always foggy by the beach kids), Golden Gate Park, and lest I forget, the ocean.

I am not really living in the City by the Bay, but in the city by the Ocean.

It is just a bit different out there, it feels like it’s own little quaint beach community and I am excited to explore it.

By bicycle.

Home

By foot.

By slow meandering walk to the beach.

By bonfire.

By moon light.

By hold my hand and walk with me in the surf.

Heh.

I move in after I get back from the thing in the desert where they burn that guy for like being the man, dontcha know.

I don’t have an exact date pinpointed when I am back from playa, but I know that I probably won’t move in until that weekend following the end of the event–I am projecting a September 7th or 8th move in date.

The studio is gorgeous.

My friend really has done it right.

The bathroom (which I christened, yes that’s right, I peed on my turf) is all lovely tile and tidy silver and chrome with a lovely medicine cabinet, well-lit, and clean and bright painted.

The walls are fresh painted.

The lighting fixtures all brand new, including a ceiling fan and domed lights.

The floors still are in the process of being finished.

My friend was going to put in carpet and changed her mind.

Yay!

Hardwoods.

Oh.

So.

Loverly.

The closet needs finishing and the kitchen is not complete yet, those details will all come together in the next week or two and frankly there is not a rush, it’ll be done and ready for me when I get back from the burn.

And eventually there will be a new deck out the back door and a new window so the studio will be even brighter.

I was actually surprised by how much light it did capture just from the little glassed in door in the back that leads to the yard and current patio.

I am going to have access to a yard!

I can hear the ocean from the back porch.

I can open the door and hear the ocean.

So much nicer than the gun shots I heard last night and the relentless drag racing and side shows that were going on last night.

Some folks got shot last night over here.

It was intense.

The news reported that a man was hospitalized for a gunshot, but no name, nothing said, a single line on ABC 7’s website.

I heard the shots last night.

And I heard the rumour mill at the BART station when I was headed into town.

Rumor was more than one person was shot.

I can believe that, there was a lot of return fire.

I am breathing so much easier just realizing that I am not going to hear that anymore as I drift off to sleep.

Ocean waves here I come.

I made it home tonight unscathed and in wonderment that I made it from 46th and Irving to Rainbow before they closed, and then to the Civic Center, onto BART, and back to the Gracelandia without incident.

The ride back, this time I did all on Lincoln and it was actually much more manageable than I thought, was foggy and chilly, and spooky and ethereal.

The entire city is bundled up in fog.

Then back to Graceland for the stack of mail to open and my groceries to put away.

And what’s that in the mail?

Ah.

Yes.

My student loan bill which has come out of forbearance and I have to make payment on before I leave for playa.

All the big money decisions whomp!

But I have it.

It’ll go in the mail tomorrow and I won’t have to worry about it while I am out dancing in the dust or getting my nanny on or doing my writing.

Of which there will be more as I also got something else in the mail.

The Bastille.

I am published.

Right.

There.

In.

Print.

My name, spelled correctly, thank you very much, and my story, The Button Boy.

It is so cool (even though there’s a typo in the last paragraph) to see my work, my name, my words, printed on paper stock.

I was also quite impressed by the journal.

It is a much higher quality print then I thought it was going to be.

 

****And here is where my internet went down last night at Graceland.  I tried again this morning to post and have now finally gotten some connection here at the nanny gig in North Oakland.

Sigh.

I hate when that happens.

Oh well.

So it goes, here’s the story from yesterday and hopefully there will be internet connectivity when I get home tonight, home, funny thought that.

Graceland for a little while longer.

 

Late Night Post

Up.

Just got off the BART and back through prostitute and crack infested waters.

Whoa.

International Avenue it is going on out there.

Grateful to have bicycled in and grateful that I don’t have to think about bicycling in at this late an hour again for the time being, if not for a long time being.

This could possibly be the last time I take a BART on a Saturday night to Fruitvale station to traverse the International crazy.

Next week I will be at Burning Man, at the Early Man celebration, watching some art burn baby burn.

I will be out at the event for three weeks, then back and I pretty much will go right out to the studio in the Avenues.

Not the International Avenue or the East Oakland Avenues…

“Oh, damn,” my friend said to me as we caught up to each other on the corner of Harrison and 24th, he to his place, me to the nail salon, “I thought you were going to say 51st and Telegraph,” when I told him the address in the East Oakland neighborhood.

“You are really in it, it’s not good over there,” he concluded.

Yup.

It has not been awful, let me be true, Gracelandia has been splendiferous, and I do like the smell of the taco truck that so consistently packs them in all hours of the night, but it has not been altogether that great either.

I joked with John Ater today when I was describing my commute the one time I rode my bicycle from the house in the Sunset, those are the Avenues I am talking about, and how I saw nary a hooker or a crack head or heard a “hey baby,” just fog and the muffled quiet of a beach town.

“It’s like its own quiet secret beach resort town that nobody knows about,” an acquaintance told me this afternoon when we were chatting.  

I discovered she lives at 42nd.

“I can hear the ocean at night when I go to sleep,” she said.

Calming.

That will be nicer to listen to then the cat calls, hollers, car alarms, sirens, and side shows I am getting used to, sort of, hearing.

The melodic smash bang soothe of the ocean surf.

Ah.

I will be going to hear that sound, and then some others, sounds that is, tomorrow.

I got VIP tickets to Outside Lands!

Outside Lands is also the reason I have had two late nights getting back to Graceland–I have been nannying for the mom and dad who went to see Paul McCartney on Friday and tonight went and saw Phoenix and Nine Inch Nails.

They decided they were not going to go to the show tomorrow and offered me the passes.

I have two VIP bracelets in.

I am going with my lovely friend who happens to be my lovely soon to be landlord, who happens to live, yes out by the concert.

I was told were the VIP entrance is and how to go through and into the festival grounds, ok, really? I get to be up close and personal to see

THE RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS!

Yes.

And maybe, giggle, Hall and Oates.

Depending on when I get there and how I navigate and what tickles me fancy, I am thinking of this:

Fishbone, followed by Slim Jenkins, then Hall and Oates, I mean come on, you know I gotta, and after that mellow groove, I will get my shake my ass out at A-Trak (can you say Whoa) and after that Willie Nelson and Family, followed by the Peppers to round it out.

Now, I don’t know if that’s all going to suss out.

That’s a long ass day in the park.

I was told that the food in VIP was good and the facilities good, and it will be nice to be, hate to say it, but, a little away from throngs, I will be able to get better access to all the stages, but will I have it in me to be there all day long?

I don’t know.

But, god damn, I am going to give it the old college try.

I did have to rearrange the schedule tomorrow a little, but again, totally worth it.

The unsung perks of being a nanny.

Going to Burning Man.

Going to Outside Lands.

Ok.

And of course, the falling in love bit, that happens too.

I was talking to the mom before they headed out and I joked that it was a hazard of the job, but one worth having.

We were discussing what she was going to need in regards to when I got back from the playa and working out a schedule.  So far, I have two confirmed days, with a share, and one solo day.  

I know more will follow.

I don’t want to commute to North Oakland, but I am keeping my fingers crossed that I will get some North Oakland to come into the city.  The mom at with the Cole Valley home said I could nanny out of her home, even on days when I wasn’t with her son, if that was what I needed to fill out my hours, she would open her house to me.

Wow.

It’s so nice to be thought of well.

I am still blown away by that, I still feel like Sally, “you like me, you really like me?!”

You like me enough to give me tickets and put me up in your Airstream trailer.

You like me enough to trust your children to me and your house and your car.

Mom in North Oakland offered me the car!

I know I mentioned that in a post, or I think I did, I am super relieved to have that happen, then I can get me stuff, my Burning stuffs, which I packed up the majority of it today, over to Cole Valley.

So much left to do, is what my brain says, how is it all going to happen?

One step at a time.

With some dancing thrown in to put me in the mood.