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.

 

Cheeky Bastards

You know you are in a good place emotionally, spiritually, and mentally when a car load of little thugs rolls up on you and you get your ass slapped while bicycling down International Avenue.

I was pedaling my ass off, but not in that kind of way.

I had gotten a roll by, and I do believe it was from the same car with a voice extolling my beauty and sexiness and blah, blah, blah, just get me through the next light and I am cool, ignore it, it will go away.

They usually do.

These little fuckers though, they must have went around the block and circled back, right past where El Gordo Taco truck plies its trade-off of High Street and International.

I was deep in thought, just a few blocks from the turn off to Graceland, messenger bag full of groceries from a quick pit stop to the Whole Foods in Oakland by Lake Merrit, planning out my strategy of attack for tomorrow’s nanny gig.

I have three babies tomorrow.

Three.

And every one of them is going to need a place to nap.

Normally one of the babies, my little elf girl, is brought over after nap time, but not tomorrow, nope, she’s getting a drop off two hours earlier than I normally have her.

If you don’t hear from me until after tomorrow night at 6 pm assume I am drowning in babies.

Juggling two is challenging, having three is a total body work out.

And my body must be looking good, despite my brain trying to tell me the opposite.

In no particular order I was whistled at, hollered at, barked at (yes, I mean does that even count as a cat call?) I was called beautiful from the side walks, street corners, bus stops, and out of car windows.

And yes, my ass was slapped.

I mean I cannot even be mad about it.

Fact is, I have pondered doing the same thing to other people before.

When Calvin and I were in a hanging out a lot phase of our friendship before he opened the salon up, we went through a huge spate of scooter riding.

He was crazy on that scooter, he probably still is, weaving in and out, ducking into the bike lane, squeezing between cars, I was always praying not to fall off or pee my pants.

I was also high on the exhilaration of speed and adrenalin.

I had often joked about smacking somebody on the ass, some hipster with a kryptonite hanging off his skinny ass, I never did, but man it was tempting.

And I have an ass, I have a bicycle bum, I ride my bike a lot and when I am not riding it I am walking.

Not having a car helps develop leg muscles, dontcha know.

The little hellions at least beeped at me.

I heard the car coming and it honked and I thought I was getting honked at for taking up too much of the lane.  In hindsight, I think they were giving me a warning, “here we come lady, watch your back.”

I could feel the car getting close, a lot closer than I felt comfortable with, then…

SMACK!

“Fuck you!”

I shouted, and flipped them off, but I had a smile on my face, I could not help it, the rear window full of grinning faces all watching me and smiling and waving at me and whistling.

I normally would not put up with it, but the fucking pure audacity made me smile, and yes, I do think it’s funny.

I can’t even get up a good head of steam over it.

I guess that means I am in a pretty good mood.

And I am.

I have been abstinent in my food, I have been working, I got a mani/pedi yesterday as my treat after the long week of being in San Francisco, I am absolutely loving my hair, it’s not been this long in years, and yeah, it’s a simple thing, but I do feel that there have been times when I was mistaken for being a little light in the loafers with the faux hawks and short shaved hair styles.

I am all woman and ready to be dating some men.

Not, perhaps the Buick full of boys that blew past me on International, but hey, you know, today I will take it as a compliment, I looked good, I look good.

I don’t feel like the kids were being malicious, just, well kids, out cruising.

If they had been older I might have gotten freaked out.

Then again, I don’t believe an older set of men, would have done that.

I am not, however, condoning getting slapped on the ass again in my commute.

Once was enough.

Good enough for a story, I don’t need to build a chapter around it.

In other things bicycle, I got the log in information to order through the bike shops distributor, I am aching to get my paws in there and get the few things I want to get for my playa bike ordered and taken care of.

Hmm, Burning Man, may be the only other place I would accept a spanking on my bicycle while riding it.

Be that as it may, I am itchy to go flit through the website.

I have a budget and I should be able to adhere nicely to it since I am ordering at cost and not retail.

Yay.

Aside from that not much else to report.

Lots of nannying this week and just taking the next steps in front of me.

And doing it while looking hella sassy.

It has been confirmed.

Amply.