Car Pool Log: 2006 05-26

Silver BMW with LCD and GSP monitoring system. Driver was showing Second Passenger, via his inquisitiveness, how his new car has all these self monitoring systems. The screen showed a scrolling display of checks (i.e. oil, gas, brake fluid, etc.), radio controls that displays the frequency and the name of the station. “If, let’s say, I wanted to listen to WILD,” Driver said. “Then I could say… ah… ‘play WILD’ and it’ll go there.” A car seat in the back facing forward, an unfolded, red paper airplane in the seat. Driver and Second Passenger talked about cars, ones they’ve owned in the past, ones they had in high school. Before we got to the toll we were listening to the radio. An announcer was saying this: “A duck was located and brought to the International Bird Rescue Research Center in Cordelia. Now get this! They found something in its stomach, something inexplicable. Through the power of x-ray they found a picture of…” and that’s when Driver changed the station. [I later found out about it here.] While in traffic, after the toll before metering lights, saw a beat-up Toyota sedan with a creationist logo sticker on the lip of the trunk. Inside the car were two high school aged girls. Both of whom, driver included, were applying their make-up, heavily. Coming into the city I was fascinated with the mapping device on the screen, followed a blue arrow along yellow roads as we turned off the highway.

Today’s Playlist

Elliott Smith: Figure 8
Smashing Pumpkins: Adore
Throwing Muses: Throwing Muses

Car Pool Log: 2006 05-25

Black or gray Suzuki Vitara. Driver had three different types of mints on a shelf below the radio; Altoids; a white tin with a blue lid, and an aquamarine box, a laser pointer on his keychain, aluminum sun-shield in the back with some kind of towel, four golf balls with two black bars in the back inside a small cubby, a jacket on the backseat, a tape, a CD, a receipt in the section between himself and Second Passenger. KFOG on the radio; interviewing the winner of an SF Air Guitar contest held at the Independent. Before coming up to the tolls saw a motorcycle overturned on the left hand lane. Cyclist was walking in the lane, picking up pieces appearing fine but hostile to the man helping him out. The helper was the driver of a parked, red pick-up truck also in the left hand lane.

Illusions
May 25, 2006
by The Davids
David Holl and David Morini


"But why,” he asked in a slow lazy drawl. "Do we have to repeat it again and again, and yet again, dear sir?”

"Simply because we must,” I replied. "Every now and then things just work in a way that suits you. This is not one of them.”

"Repetition is the swarm of enlightenment," I continued. "Without reenactment we would never perfect our groove in the time-space continuum."

I sat down on my chair of feathers and beads, cupped my hands and placed them underneath the water fountain; a stone goldfish balancing on a fin.

"But, sir," he went on. "The forces of nature require the random construct of impulse. It throws obstacles in the natural order of things, changes events, and therefore creates evolution."

"The natural definition of an impulse also relies heavily on chance," I drank the water from my hands, wetting my lap in the process. "And chance only works one out a million times. The percentage of defeat is imminent and therefore ought to be avoided."

In tandem, the Diaspora withered into our so called "History,” that myth of man and earth emancipated from our lips by the privileged and the sanctified.

In fact, the bourgeois documentation of written history has been nothing but a cancer infecting the minds of the billions (if not trillions) of people who have lived underneath its 4,000 year reign. It has been responsible for wars, famines, genocides. The problem being its ability of being faultily ill-defined, re-defined and interpreted in as many means as a circle has sides.

"Without the method of documentation,” I went on. “We must rely on the only other method of recollection. The Human Mind. The most manipulatable beast of them all. It follows the only concept of time as the Now, will dwell in the Then, and occasionally muses on the Later. Factual events are malleable, reorganized at will and ease." I turned to the chalkboard that has, by now, been soaked by water.

"As the passage of time moves on," I drew a line on the wet board, leaving sporadic chalk markings, some more visible than others. My hand skipped over the wet surface and then halted, groggily, and, just as suddenly, moved with the swiftness of a rock on ice. "This is what can be recorded." The chalk markings bled and changed. "And what could've been a line as clear as crystal is now a blotched and incoherent mess."

Car Pool Log: 2006 05-24

Ashley picked me up in front of my apartment while I was reading Brick Lane by Monica Ali. We were both very sleepy. We stopped and picked up Second Passenger on Hudson. She didn’t seem very pleased when I told her to get in using the other door. I gave her lenience for it being so early in the morning but I swear that she rolled her eyes. I didn’t like her then. When she sat in the car she gave a sickly sweet “good morning” and I thought how typical it was for a Californian. The ride was silent, filled with the rolling mumblings of KQED, another silly Perspective on how one woman never acknowledged the kindness of her neighbors until she moved. It amazes me sometimes what amazes others. Heavy traffic, drivers abusing the car pool lane, lots of motorcycles today.

Yesterday’s Playlist

This Mortal Coil: Blood
Japancakes: Belmondo
Shivaree: Who’s Got Trouble
Howling Wolf Orchestra: Speedtraps For The Bee Kingdom
50 Foot Wave: Golden Ocean
Throwing Muses: Throwing Muses

Today’s Playlist

A Camp: A Camp
Tori Amos: To Venus And Back (disc 1)