Three cats down to two.

Just about 24 hours after I wrote that glowing review of Francoise, our new cat, I regret to write that we've come to the sad realization that Francoise was made to be an only cat.

All of the nice things about her are still true.  But what I didn't mention is that she is extremely aggressive toward Buffy and Boomer, to the point where Boomer just hides all day and has even gotten snappy with us. Francoise also marks her territory on the bed when she has had fights with the other cats.

Bottom line is that as much as I love her and want to keep her forever, I don't think it's working out. She will make a wonderful companion for whoever can take her, but she just can't be in a home with other cats.

So if there's anyone reading this that wants a wonderful little cat who is very affectionate toward people, please give Francoise a home! She's so sweet and deserves a home where she can feel safe and not agitated all the time.

Three Cats.

We got a third cat a couple weeks ago.  It was one of those sob stories where she was just too rambunctious for her own good and a little bitey, so they were gonna give her the chair.  Or at least, they were going to give her the municipal animal shelter equivalent of "The Chair."  That was the implication anyway.

So now Daniel and I have three cats. She's an incredibly sweet little thing, and a good ten times smarter than either of the other cats. Her purr is so loud you can hear it from across the room, and her fur is soft and silky.  She also really loves to be picked up and to be around people.  She does bite a bit, but she doesn't do it hard anymore, just softly and playfully.  She's had two accidents, one poop and one pee, but nothing for a week or so.

We are that crazy couple with all the cats.

City Blues

So, I love living in a city. It's nice to be able to go get a hot meal in the middle of the night if you're not up for cooking, or to know that the hospital's right there and the police and neighbors if something happens. It's nice to have something fun to occupy your time.

But sometimes I think it would be awesome to live in the middle of nowhere.  On a commune or some shit where there aren't any people except the people I like.  Because as much as I like people-watching, going out to eat, seeing movies in a nice theater, and the wonders of architecture, I'm not much of a "people person."  I think working in customer service does that to you.

I was watching this BBC series called "Survivors."  It was pretty creepy.  In it, like 90 percent of the world's population died overnight due to an aggresive flu pandemic.  The whole thing was terrifying, especially since you read all the time about how that shit is coming, and is inevitable. But, like Zombieland, Mad Max, and all yer favorites, you can't help but fantasize about how cool it would be to live in a world populated by just a couple hundred people.

I'm all watching some dude driving a convertible at like 100 miles an hour down a deserted city street (in the show) and thinking, "That is the life."  If you could just take the people you love the most and just hole up for a couple years and not have to deal with anyone else, wouldn't you want to?

I don't know.  Maybe I'm just cranky today because it's a hella busy day and I probably haven't had enough to eat.  There are days when I love human beings, and other days where I just feel like being reclusive.  I've never been much of a partier or a socialite, but I do think I would get lonely real fast in a world with no people, even if it did mean I'd never have to put up with assholes ever again.

Privacy

Privacy.  Or, as the British would say, "privassy", or whatever.  How much do you actually value it and to what extent?  Be honest, now.  My mom has always been a huge proponent of privacy and has held it sacred all her life.  She was never the kind of mom who would go through your shit or spy on you or read your diary.  She wouldn't even read a printed piece of paper lying on the table if she knew it was yours. 

I agree with her.  Things that are supposed to be private should be private.  Mail, writings, letters, your personal space, emails, etc. I'll have the same policy with my kids, no doubt.

But then there's other shit.

I just saw a thing on the news about how people are hella pissed that there might be cameras put up on the street for security.  I just don't get why you'd fucking care.  You're on a public street, for Christ's sake.  It's not like you're taking a shit in your own bathroom and "The Man" is staring you right in the eyeballs. You shouldn't be doing anything on a public street that requires privacy.  I mean, I'm sorry if you wanna take out your dick and flap it around or take a poop on the sidewalk.  Get over yourself.  Not every surveilance is a violation of privacy. 

DC TRIP

Here's a summary of Daniel, Donnie, and my trip to the Baltimore/DC area.  I fear as this entry progresses it will mostly be a review of what we ate.  Because we're American like that.

Day 1, October 29th, was a Friday and an all-day travel day.  Started the day off right and healthy with a grease-sogged sausage biscuit from Burger King in the airport, a half a turkey sandwich, apple juice, and a Dr. Pepper.  We weren't gonna be able to have any real food until like 830 pm East Coast time, so sue me. Nothing real eventful happened. Dave picked us up at the airport and we ate pizza that night at Johnny Rad's, a skateboarding-themed bar in Baltimore.  Some of the best pizza I've ever had.  Daniel played a little bit of the arcade game "720," which is some kind of Atari-style skateboarding video game that seems impossibe to navigate.

Day 2, October 30th, was Saturday and the day of the Rally to Restore Sanity/March to Keep Fear Alive.  We realized that we had forgotten to purchase red Karo corn syrup for our Zombie Tea-Partier costumes, so we all had a Clif bar for breakfast and a cup of coffee, then headed to Safeway for last minute zombie accoutrements. They didn't have any red Karo so I bought clear Karo and some red food coloring, cuz I'm MacGuyver like that.  Or because I have common sense and am really not all that smart.  We picked up Colleen and it was off to Greenbelt to catch the metro.  The line of ralliers flowed into the parking lot, but the Metro crew was savvy and had pre-paid tickets printed that you could buy with cash and the line moved lightning fast.  Luckily we got on at the beginning of the line and actually could board the train, because all subsequent stops were pretty much moot.... the trains were full and no one was getting off until the rally.

We got off the train, not yet be-garbed as zombies, but still carrying our zombie-style tea party signs, which were really more like zombie NRA signs, in retrospect.  Either way, I somewhat disagreed with our decision to display the signs before putting our make-up on, as I felt it was premature and the joke didn't make any sense without the makeup.  We found a spot on the lawn, about halfway to the stage (halfway through what was originally supposed to be the boundary of the rally), and put our makeup on.  People had great signs, great energy, and the rally itself was pretty funny and touching.  My criticisms include: I could have lived without the 40 minute concert by the Roots.  I hate rap and I couldn't really hear much of anything anyway.  In fact, I couldn't hear or understand much of the rally, which was a bummer, and I spent a lot of the like seven hours we were there just wishing I could find a place to take a shit and then a place to wash my hands and then a place to eat real food instead of granola bars.

Once the rally wrapped up, and we'd gotten our pictures taken by a bunch of people, and we'd finally made it out of DC, we wiped the zombification off our faces and headed to Five Guys, where I had the best burger of my life (second to the Mission Street Burger when it used to be fried in duck fat). We went home, totally and completely exhausted.  I took a nap, the boys watched youtube videos (or so they claim), then we vegged out and watched "The Strangers" and scared ourselves shitless.  This was followed by a quick speed-through of "Dead Snow," which is a movie about zombie Nazis in Norway, and was pretty goddamn horrible/fantastic. 

Day 3, October 31st, All Hallow's Eve, a Sunday, and my favorite holiday, we got up and had breakfast at Red Star.  It's a restaurant/bar that used to be a whorehouse once upon a time.  Or I guess the polite term is "bordello."  Either way, it was delicious.  We met up with Jason, and did a little putzing around, including going to a comic book/geek store.  Dave parted ways with us for a bit, and Donnie, Daniel, Jason and I went to the Visionary Art Museum, which is one museum in my Holy Trinity of museums that are my favorite places in the world.  It's a museum full of art by people who are not necessarily classically trained artists, including the mentally ill and the unintentional artist.  We then headed over to try to go to Cross St market in Baltimore, but most of it was closed, so we headed over to the Metropolitan, where we met up with Dave and had salads and the boys had beer.  While they were finishing their beers I walked a block to the drugstore and got myself some Utz cheese curls and a couple of candy bars.

After the bar, Jason went home and Dave, Daniel, Donnie and I went and picked up Colleen.  We all headed to a different bar (can't remember the name of this one) and played Chrononauts and watched a bit of Red Dragon, which was playing in the bar. Sleepiness was catching up to me at this point so I felt a little zombie-like.  We left the bar to go catch up with our reservations at Woodbury, which is Dave's favorite restaurant in Baltimore, and I can fucking see why.

The ambiance/decor was, to use a phrase coined by Dave, "Amish-chic."  Farm tables, beautiful tall windows, dark wood floors, brick walls, and antique faucets in the bathrooms. The building itself was an old mill, re-purposed for this restaurant.  The bathroom had real country farmhouse towels that you would use and then toss into a laundry basket under the sink.

We sat down to the most amazing meal.... which included two comp appetizers and ended with two comp desserts. They had heard us discussing getting certain things on the menu and then brought them out to us for free for us to try.  Amazing service, great atmosphere, incredible food.

We went home in a food haze and pretty much just called it a night.

Day 4, November 1st, a Monday and our day in Washington DC to see the sights.  We woke up, grabbed a quick breakfast at the local coffee shop, and then headed to the Greenline metro station again to begin our trip.  Along for the outing were Dave, Colleen, Donnie, and Daniel and me. Our first stop in DC was the Hirshhorn art museum. Then we headed over to my personal favorite stop on the tour: The Smithsonian Museum of the American Indian.  First things first, we ate at the motherfucking INCREDIBLE indigenous peoples cafe, with indigenous food from different regions of the world, categorized by country and region.  My god.  I had never had fry bread before, and it was like, where had this amazing food been all my life and how did I survive without it.

The museum itself was gorgeous... so well-organized, so respectful, so beautiful.  it was designed and curated mostly by people of Native American culture, and I felt that I was really learning from it.

We hit the National Air and Space museum next, which was fun, even if it was a little dated.  I learned how awesome the Wright Brothers were, and saw how shitty it would be to be an astronaut. "Feces collection bag"?????? No thank you.  I will stay on the Earth.

After museuming and seeing the Capitol Building, we headed for dinner at U Street.  I should mention that the weather in DC that day (cold and clear, sun out and low, orange light across the grass and red and yellow leaves on the trees.....) is the best weather ever, in my opinion.

It was dark when we got to U Street, and we headed straight for Ethiopian food at "Little Ethiopa," a subterranian restaurant.  It was friggin' awesome, with low tables you hunch over while you eat with your hands.  The waitress comes by before your food arrives and washes your hands with warm water from a silver teapot.  The food was delicious, especially the lamb.

After we got back from DC we went over to Colleen's house and watched a spoof movie while we drank.  It was a lovely evening.

Day 5, November 2nd, a Tuesday, marked our return to Oakland.  However, it was a fabulous start to our day when we went to Miss Shirley's for brunch, followed by Atomic Books for shopping.  Miss Shirley's was goddamn delicious.  I mean, Donnie had fried chicken and waffles, I had a brie/turkey/apple sandwich, Dave had friggin red velvet cake pancakes with frosting. 

Atomic Books is up there as one of my favorite bookstores of all time. I, of course, spent more than I should have, but all that shit was totally worth it.


It was a fucking fantastic trip.  Tiring, yes, but it was a good, satisfying tiring.  I can't wait to go back.

Saint Frida

I used to thoroughly dislike Frida Kahlo's artwork.  I think it was this part of me that wanted to be striving for that artistic elite--- that only training could produce a fine artist.  It was a reflection of how I felt about my own shitty art.  That I couldn't draw or paint or sculpt as well as other people I saw around me could be ignored because I was learning.  I was in training, so eventually I'd be a "very serious artist" and could therefore be taken seriously.

Since then, since I dropped out of "art school" (read: preparation for art school by taking art classes at community college) and went to college for religious studies, my view of the art world has changed considerably. 

That's why seeing the movie "Frida" really reminded me of how my view has changed, and how Frida Kahlo fits exactly what I love about art.  She was this untrained artist, working from within, painting the way she wanted to, painting the subject matter that was important to her.  She didn't go to school, she didn't need to prove herself, and she didn't need to be validated by the elite art scene.

That's actually why I never pursued art school.  Well, part of it, anyway.  The biggest reason is that I didn't think I was good enough.  I think it would be sour grapes to say that I chose a different path because of the elitism.  Honestly? My shit wasn't that good.  But a part of it really was that Hollywood mentality.... having to know the right people, having to sell yourself... having to kiss ass.  That's not to say that there aren't plenty of artists who make it without doing any of that.  They make it solely on their raw talent and don't stoop to being exclusive of others or snobby about who they like or don't like.

Frida became accepted by the elite art scene of the time, which is cool, but she's a great example of how anyone can make art.  As cheesy as it sounds, it's just that creativity that comes from within, and you don't need formal training to let it shine.

The Clothed Anteater Hall of Fame

I don't know, man. People have anteaters as pets and they dress them like people.  I was unaware of this phenomena until like 30 minutes ago, and now I'm so glad I'm in the know.

You got yer jean jacket anteater:

yer purple winter parka anteater:

yer plaid peacoat anteater:

yer weird gangly anteater in a black tee shirt:

yer freaky elderly couple in bad sweaters:

yer classy cowl-neck sweater anteater:

And then there's this naked one.  Drinking beer:

These are all pictures I found just doing a google image search for "anteaters", "pet anteaters", or "anteaters in clothes".

I don't draw much anymore

Why don't I? I used to do it all the time.  I would experiment with different styles, different techniques, take inspiration from different things.

I picked up a copy of the latest Giant Robot magazine and saw art by Matt Furie, who I've never heard of before.  I found his work to be crazy inspiring to me.  It made me want to start drawing again.  His stuff reminds me of stuff by Dehara, with that gritty, creepy surreal colored-pencil sheen to it.  It's the type of art I'd like to get into making myself.  I just feel so out of my depth art-wise these days.  I feel very little confidence in it anymore. I am a junior-college art school drop-out.  I left art and got a Bachelor's  in Religious Studies. And it wasn't because I didn't like making art. It was because I lacked the patience to truly develop my skills and I just wasn't as good as I needed to be.  Maybe it's time to take out the pencils and try again.  With patience this time.

Old Rasty Country Songs

And I don't mean anything that's been written since 1980.  I mean like, old Western movie songs.  Not necessarily bluegrass, though I do like bluegrass.  I like that really old scratchy-record country music that makes you think of like Wild Bill Hickok and old stagecoaches and the open range.  Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys.

Work Allows Me to Post to My Blog

As I am sitting here at the ticketing desk I realize that on certain days of the week it is highly likely that I will update this shit multiple times during the day.

I recently started rock climbing, and I'm getting better at it.  I can do mostly V1's for bouldering, but I can do them quicker and have better endurance now. I have accomplished one "V2", but it was hella easy, I think, because I have not been able to duplicate that success.

Monday I got a tattoo at Moth and Dagger Tattoo Studio in San Francisco.  The dudes there were hilarious and Mario gave me the best tattoo of my life, for sure.  I cannot stop gving them props.  So, if you feel the need for ink in your skin, check them out.  My tattoo is a soldadera from the Mexican Revolution. It rocks so hard.  When I get home I'll post a pic.

Don't Be a Jerk, Adopt from a Shelter

I am about halfway through all the necessary training to volunteer for the Oakland Animal Serivces.  I am going to be a dog volunteer, working primarily and almost exclusively with dogs, which was my request, because I freakin' love dogs and instead have two cats (Who I LOVE, for the record.  I'm just more of a dog person).

While we were walking around in the back of the shelter, I saw too many wonderful dogs to count. Purebred dogs of many different kinds, and, my favorite--MUTTS.  Mutts of all sizes, shapes, colors and dispositions.  One little fellow, about the size of a large housecat, was undergoing "cat testing", which means that the volunteers were introducing him to some of the cat residents of the shelter and seeing how he reacted.  he politely sniffed the cat's bottom and then waited for the cat to do the same.  These animals are so good, so loving, so sweet, and so sad. 

I know it's all preachy for my first post here, but don't buy dogs from breeders, man.  There are just too many amazing animals waiting to be adopted at the shelter. Puppies, purebreds, mutts, big and small, medium, long-haired, short haired and everything in-between.  So don't be a dick.  Adopt a pet.