Saturday, July 18, 2009

Un-touristy San Francisco: the "Southern Waterfront"

To help inspire me for the next chapter of my novel, I spent a couple of hours driving around what is euphemistically known as the southern waterfront -- the stretch of bay from Mission Creek south to Islais Creek, and beyond. I saw:

Piles of rubble in various states. Some were huge chunks of concrete, either squarish or unshaped; some were piles of smaller rubble, often mixed dirt, gravel, and metal. Some of the piles were covered in various ways, from degrading plastic to very substantial-looking material of rectangular rubber or plastic sheets fastened together with plastic ties. In most cases whatever covered the piles was held down by sandbags, and again these were of varying quality, from thin, degrading plastic to heavier woven plastic.

Vacant lots. These were often weed-strewn gravel, formerly the parking lots or operating yards of industrial concerns and now derelict. At this time of year the only living weeds were usually fennel plants. Many of the vacant lots were fairly clean aside from the weeds; at some point they had obviously been entirely cleared. In other cases the lots were apparently in use as storage lots, but these were often in worse shape than the completely vacant lots, in that they had derelict vehicles that would obviously never be moved.

Sometimes these derelict vehicles were cargo trailers, decades old in many cases, that were parked against loading docks. The buildings behind these loading docks were sometimes themselves derelict and sometimes apparently not.

Fences. Chain-link fences, sometimes covered on one side with boards, and again this was done at varying levels of quality, sometimes giving an impression of solidity, sometimes not. This also depended on how the boards were fastened and painted. But in every case, whether the chain-link fences had added wood on or not, they were topped with strands of barbed wire and usually with razor wire added.

Strange-shaped lots. Sometimes the combination of vacant lots and fences combined to make very strangely shaped lots that were separated from another part of the property, seemingly in an arbitrary fashion.

The Islais Creek grain pier was in much, much worse shape than I'd remembered/supposed. For one thing, it had apparently been torn down along the shore so that it would be impossible for anyone to casually walk out on the pier; in order to reach what was left, including the five-story-tall rusty tower that had something to do with suctioning grain or something, you'd have to have a boat. (During the years 1981-84 when I was a delivery truck driver, I remember occasionally seeing a small ship at that terminal, filling up its hold by way of the now rusting tower. The visits of the ships stopped sometime during those years, and the area was abandoned.) What was left was almost entirely impassable and obviously incredibly dangerous: crumbling, rotting wood that was fallen through in more places than not, filled with rusty spikes and nails and jutting rusty metal bars. The notion that the characters in one of my chapters could do anything like I've depicted them doing there -- aside from falling through the pier, which I have depicted -- is ridiculous. But I'll just have to stage the action on some less identifiable property. God knows there are plenty of rotting piers.

Speaking of which: rotting piers in various stages of destruction, all fenced off by the above-described fences. In many cases, bare pilings sticking up out of the bay.

The shore itself was usually lined with chunks of concrete, covered with slime, which is to say a thick brown and green coating of algae. Whether the concrete was dumped legally or illegally in any particular spot is hard to tell. There are some places where the concrete seems to be of uniform shape and to have been arranged in some organized fashion; these would be the legal places. In other places there are simply slabs of wall, roadway, and other debris, often with jutting, slime-covered rebar.

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Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Post 3501

Earlier this month Cris and I went to visit our friends down in the desert near the town of Twentynine Palms [location], and we made the mandatory trip up into "the monument," as locals still refer to Joshua Tree National Park (which gained national park status only in the 1990s). I took a few pictures up in the park -- see my Flickr set -- but I'm not nearly as good a photographer as this guy, so take a look at his blog if you want to see some really beautiful pictures that capture something of what the park is really like.

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Tuesday, July 07, 2009

Focus on the Fundies: They'll pay you to save money?

Another update on the strange Pentecostal minister who, in my last mention, begged for money so he could work on his book without having to actually work. This guy has a few obsessions, and money is definitely one of them -- I guess having several kids and no job has something to do with it.

One of his so-called income streams is from an Amway-like business with the unfortunate name of Melaleuca. In a recent post he and his wife agonize over why someone "declined to participate" in the pyramid scheme-like business:
I wonder if we communicated what we were really trying to say well enough. Did this person really understand that they will not be paying any more money than they already do now and that they will be getting much better products? It's really strange. And, we offered to write them a check to pay for a bunch of their groceries this month. What did we miss here? I can't think how it makes sense to NOT enroll. They actually lost money by declining. Plus, it would have been great way to support our ministry. Hmmmm...
OK, here's a clue: Some people don't want to "participate" or "enroll" -- you have to fill out a form just to shop with the company, much less become a marketer -- just to shop for household items. They just want to buy the stuff. It's too much trouble.

Even if (and I'll take your word for it) it saves them money? Well, maybe they don't want other people to be privy to their household purchases. Maybe they'd like their grocery shopping to be separate from "supporting your ministry;" assuming they want to do so, they'll get a tax deduction for just writing you a check instead. And offering what seems like a bribe to get them to "participate" makes it even creepier, even as it provides another example of how this guy's "ministry" is practically inextricable from his focus on lucre.

As for whether or not the Melaleuca business itself is on the up-and-up, I can only point out that the phrase "Melaleuca scam" gets over 75,000 results on Google, including several videos. I think if someone has taken the time to actually make a video about what a scam something is, that might be a bit of a red flag.

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All of TIME's sex covers

Weirdly, you can search the TIME magazine site for covers by topic. Here are all the covers related to: The latter query gets both covers on employment and on the Apple co-founder. Anyway.

NYRB reprints Handke classic 'Short Letter, Long Farewell'

Browsing on the New York Review website, I was pleased to see that they have reprinted Peter Handke's classic road novel Short Letter, Long Farewell.

This 1972 book -- which became widely available to American readers in the 1985 Avon release (seen at left) of three Handke novels in one paperback volume entitled Three by Peter Handke -- is about the aftermath of a breakup, as the male narrator flees what seems to be a quest for revenge by his erstwhile lover (or wife, it's unclear). This was one of my favorite books when I was in my late 20s; it combines the outlines of a chase thriller with slow conversations about books and films, including a conversation with the director John Ford. I gave a hardback edition of the novel to a friend, who then wrote about it.

Handke became a pariah in the 1990s when he wrote a book defending the claims of Serbia in the former Yugoslavia, and in 2006 outraged people when he spoke at the funeral of Slobodan Milošević. He remains a figure of great controversy. But there was no hint of this moral defection -- which I blame on his simply being an Austrian, because it seems all Austrians are perverse and nihilistic -- in the 70s, when he worked closely with German director Wim Wenders, who filmed his novels "Wrong Movement" and "The Goalie's Anxiety at the Penalty Kick" and several Handke screenplays, most famously "Wings of Desire."

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Wednesday, July 01, 2009

New book by a friend



Several years ago I was a technical publications manager at a different software company than the one I work for now. One of the brightest writers there was a young guy everyone called Andy, whose work experience included working in a toy factory. Since then he's gone on to a creative writing MFA and now, known officially as Andrew Zornoza, is the proud author of a first novel, Where I Stay. The book's unusual design reflects the novel's unusual structure, a succession of prose snapshots of various locales, mostly around the American west. It's an intriguing book and worth picking up.

See the review on HTML Giant.

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Michael Jackson's tigers telepathically informed of his death

The former actress Tippi Hedren now runs an animal sanctuary for exotic beasts -- retired circus lions and such -- and took the tigers from Michael Jackson's small zoo when it was closed down in 2005. She let a reporter know that she took the trouble to inform the tigers of their former owner's death: "I went up and sat with them for a while and let them know that Michael was gone. You don't know what mental telepathy exists from the human to the animal. But I hope they understood."

She doesn't say whether the tigers were disappointed that they never got to kill and consume their former owner. I have the feeling that's really the only thing on the mind of a tiger: Prey or not?

In the same vein, in this rundown of Jackson's other exotic pets and what happened to them, when asked whether Jackson's chimp Bubbles has been informed of his owner's death, the directory of the sanctuary where the chimp now lives says, "We haven't said anything to him yet."

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