Categories
Glot

Way of Life

It’s occurred to me. I finished what I set out to do.

I was having dinner, conversing with a friend newly returned from Cambodia, and then I was washing the dishes and I realized I’d finished it. What I set out to do a year ago.

My Life's PossessionsAllow me to be the first to admit that I went traveling with a lot of false hopes. Although there’s no such thing, sure, they were a little high. I wanted an apartment, a steady job that lasted 3-4 months, paid $3000+living expenses so I could travel another 3 months, plus a girlfriend. These are all nice, dumb things to want when traveling overseas for the first time. Nobody gets a decent apartment in a major suburban center (which is where I wanted it) for that long. Employers don’t wanna train you and then see you drive off into the sunset of Uluru, or the GBR, or lord knows where else. And I could hardly talk to girls enough to con them into a funny travel photo. All in all, unreasonable expectations at best. I came back from my trip having had the experience of a lifetime, humbled.

Fast forward three months. Those three months aren’t important. I started living in a hostel called Pacific Tradewinds in September, looking for work or an apartment, but admittedly half-assed-ly. But I didn’t half-ass cleaning the dishes, I didn’t half-ass the stairs when I was asked to clean them for a free night, and I was hired there in a matter of six weeks. I had fun. I lived mostly on free stuff, spending very little. I hung out with different people and different girls. I got into Consumating. My life changed, becoming less solipsistic, while more hedonistic, more community-driven, but more selfishly goal-oriented. I enjoyed my life.

OUR Bedroom MessI had to move on, eventually. Come February it was time to move out of the hostel. It took me and my girlfriend and my roommates until April to find it. Those were weird months. It wasn’t until late May that I found another job, another hostel. It pays, it’s a commute, and I still get to meet and interact with travelers. I feel cool. I live in the city I love, in my favorite neighborhood, and go to loads of events pretty easy. I get to go to Burning Man. I get to maybe buy a Vespa, a new camera, and cover my student loans. I’m a real citizen and so it feels.

It’s an odd, fulfilling, scary, nostalgic, lovely feeling. I’m done—for the moment. I’ve still got lots of stuff on the list. But for now, I think, I get to say I’m done.

Categories
Glot

14,000 and Counting

Saw a good movie yesterday, three days after its world premiere: The Man from Earth (imdb entry here). Imagine if you will… the movie’s premise: “What if a man from the Upper Paleolithic had survived until the present day?” Take six professors plus one lecher’d coed following that to the bottom of the rabbit hole, you’ve got the whole movie. It’s a simple, elegant concept, and the execution was good. Acting was excellent. Music coulda been better. The popcorn was awful, but I won’t blame the director for that.

Like any good movie… like any good intellectual movie, it makes you consider ideas presented long after the presentation’s over. Like what you’d do with 14,000 years of life. Education. Religion. Travel. Love. It’s the same forever-change-yer-life choices we all meet, but on a scale that opens them up for just about anything. Who would you meet? How would you affect history? It’s refreshing to reconsider all of them, and see the story play around unexpectedly with each. Not to mention the big, obvious, elephant-in-room question: would you want to live that long, given the choice? Never dying, unless by intentional means? I’m not gonna answer that. Certainly not here.

See the movie and have a good conversation afterwards. If you have to see if in an art theater, bring your own popcorn. The things you eat now will stay with you for the rest of your life.

Categories
Letters

to Lauren, Homepie Cohabitation Thoughts

Hey there,

Writing earlier today, I was thinking about writing you again. See, when I first heard about the possibility (and I realize it is still a *possibility* only) of three of the four members living together, I thought “cool! they’re gonna have so much fun!” And then my rational brain kicked in, and I decided to write this email. So there’s your topic sentence, I guess. 

I really think it will be totally awesome. I do, cause I know. But I also just went through the whole process of getting a damned place a nigh on two months ago. What I’ll say is that it required more teamwork, coordination, and time-investment than raising a child for that month. That’s this city, partly. Advice I would give is to divide the labor—take many many pictures and then show them to roommates later. Speaking of them, make sure you know what the hell you want, and what you’re willing to settle for. After awhile, we learned to just try and apply for every place we saw. If you can make a contact sheet with all your info on it, a lot of landlords appreciate that. Course, being where you are all this might not even matter and you’ll get one credit report and be on board. So I’ll talk more about roommates. 

I know Mickey had college roommates, and he has high standards of cleanliness and presentation. I think he’ll make a good roommate except for the neat-freak factor, which might cause an international incident or two. While you and Josh really haven’t had non-familial roommates before (wait… you haven’t, have you?) I think the aspect of moving in with friends has worked out for us up here in SF. It gives you a base. Kinda weird for us cause it’s a couple/couple setup. Knowing the homepie I don’t foresee any such even splits. What I do foresee… 

Well, gee, that’s the only part that really gets my imagination whirling is how things will fall into place. It was always my opinion, and I would guess a popular one, that our little group always balanced out between the four personalities. It wasn’t that easy for one person to be left out, there’s always at least one person you can talk to about whatever problem you have, hell we even seat evenly in cars. So having one person permanently removed outta-whacks things. It is, to some degree, like Mickey during college. We got used to that. But we could still visit when we wanted, it was reasonable. 

It would be harder now, but (now that I mention it) I’m planning on coming down to Socal starting by the 12th until I fly to Missouri on the 18th. Dunno what the situation would be then. I know that until then I’m probably a topic of conversation from time to time (just a guess :-P). Lots of catching up to do. I want to go to Burning Man this year, I remember talking about that with you. We were high and everyone thought it’d be AWESOME. But, we were high. Still like to go with slices if possible. 

If you don’t get an apartment together no one named “Billy” will think less of youse. It might work, but then again there’s issues. Josh wants two years. Mickey doesn’t know what to do with an almost-degree and I would assume has some student loans chasing him in his fever-dreams. Plus there’s the whole “when WILL the Homepie escape the confines of Coachella Valley altogether?” That’s more something I get to ask since you’re all happy as plums, from what seems to me. That’s ok for the moment. I know you haven’t forgotten me. This Pie has survived longer periods of separation and endured greater feats of dis-coordination. Hell, the lack of melodrama from my favorite friends has been a healthy and stable influence in my life, even if the influence is less than it once was. 

How that’s for a ramble? I have no earthly idea if this text will ever be useful to you but I liked writing it. Keeping in touch feels nice, and talking on the phone only goes so far. Thanks for the glot comment. You made my day even better than it already was. 


all that I am,
 -Billy

P.S. Oh yeah… oops. Cross out every instance referring to “apartment” with “house.” Cross out “landlord” and put “real estate agent.”


I hate to tell you, but it sounded to me like you weren’t snarky at all. So I gotta say I’m sorry, cause the last bit felt like honest soliciting of advice and I can’t help you beyond what you already know. As a matter of fact, it seems like you have it more or less right. Partly you wanna scram asap, partly you know that what time you have left there is precious too short. Shit. That’s exactly it. Exactly. So do what you’re doing, and you’ll be fine. For awhile might wish it were less simple but it ain’t.

So what can I say? What I’ve found makes me happy is meeting my own challenges and being content with that. It’s the only thing that ever has, besides the occassional long hot bath, amazing new artist discovery, bizarre once-in-a-lifetime experience, etc, etc. I thought for a little while I was going through another ‘ism’ phase, hedonism. I was gonna blog about it. But then I realized that, no, this is just the part of myself I’d been wanting to explore for a long time.

I set out to Australia to figure out how to interact with girls, with people in general, to get a cool apartment and expand my friends beyond the American. I wanted to improve myself in those ways cause I felt unsatisfied with my own behaivior. And my life was mostly a struggle, mostly worry, I had fun, but blew a whole load of money doing it. A year later: here I am, I have a French-Canadian friend in Spain, one on the Isle of Wight, and another who just came back from Cambodia. I have what I am convinced is one of the most enviable young-person’s apartment in the entire city. I have an awesome girlfriend with whom I go to incredibe events all the time. I don’t mean to brag, but I wanna say that I’m really enjoying my life right now. My parents want me to go back to school. But I don’t, so I won’t. And it’s been kind of weird figuring out that past a certain point of becoming stable and solvent and sustainable, you don’t have to work for it. I haven’t, lately. As Lynae so astutely put: “it’s really weird just being happy, isn’t it?”

So there’s me, right now. And I think that’s you, in the future. I don’t know what it’ll look like, obviously, and I think it’s good to fantasize like you have (sidenote: Cory Doctorow? Really? They let that man blather to students about Steampunk PDAs and copyrighted subway maps and how many robots can dance on the head of a pin? Bloglines, yes… student loans, no). I think just figuring what you want from yourself is the hardest part. Second hardest is sticking to it.

the best +1,
-Billy

Categories
Glot

Pay it, Weegie

Norwegians. So nice, even smug, as long as everything’s going their way. Then the minute the chips go down to eat the dust on the rocks which aren’t as great as they used to be, Norwegians become all… “I vish to speek to the manger.”

Hi. I work at a hostel. It’s my job to tell you you gotta put your stuff in the lockers. It’s two bucks. Even though you think it’s my fault, it’s not. Sorry. No need for rude. No need for manager. It’s not even that much. With a shrug of sympathy and an open-palmed “that’s what you gotta do,” I’ll help you with what you gotta do. Instead, you chose to make me think Norwegians suck.

This is the convergence of customer service with international travel. People like me get to meet everyone in the whole world. It’s like a sampler of national personalities, which, come to think, might be the etymology of “nationality.” And there’s only so many of each. How many Norwegians have I met? Maybe three. And so the picture’s inadequate. I’ve met one Cuban, and I doubt that all Cubans are soft-spoken shrinking violets who just want a nice bottom-bunk, is all. I know the weegies aren’t all unfairly demanding. Yet nonetheless it’s true that when you travel you represent your country. Walking around, in our prosthetically clothing-and-accessory augmented bodies, it’s unavoidable. We each represent the demographic that is us, going down from species, to gender, passing by race and religion and political affiliation and nationality, all the way through education and class and hometown and family and circle of friends. And there’s us.

So dammit… act nice. You put on a face every morning and people can see it. Pay the $2 Weegie.

Categories
Glot

Networking Card

Oh, hi there. My name’s Orin. This is Lynae. We’re here at this event and so are you. So right there, we already have something in common. We could have more… a lot more, who knows. And you seem pretty cool—Lord knows I feel pretty cool cause I’m here. It’s a big town so we might not run into each other for awhile but, you know, it’d be nice to be in contact. Here. Take this card:

Orin + Lynae = ♥

Well gee, thanks. You know I totally made that earlier today. It was nice talking to you, and we shall meet again. Ha ha, probably.

Categories
Glot

Profound Round

My favorite shape: the circle. Circles are one of the most structurally sound shapes known to man. Circles are also intriguing as symbols of perfection, and their geometry can reveal much about nature’s design. Speaking personally, the only tattoo I want is a circle—exactingly proportioned in a thin black line, drawn on my right bicep, parallel to the collarbone. Let me lead you along on one of my imperfect circular journeys, starting one autumn evening last…

Where do you think all of this is leading?

  • get a new job

That’s right! I worry too much. And, although the job I got offered (the same job I start tomorrow) isn’t the best, isn’t ideal, in other words isn’t perfect, I’m quite tired of being spun about by different employers all around town and feeling like I’m running in… circles.

Incidentally—and I say this with no little amount of ironic, synchronistically-recognized cosmic amusement—the next Buzzed Bee is tomorrow evening.

Categories
Glot

Misspeakings

It is an important and popular fact that often the smallest detail can make the biggest difference. This bothers me. Fr’instance, today, when told that it was someone’s “[first day being a] manager [at the Elements Hostel on Mission st.],” instead of giving [what I later realized was] a condescending “all is forgiven,” I should have spoke the truth and said “could’ve fooled me.” This is just an example, of course. One’s brain doesn’t always choose the absolute best option in the allotted time. Hm, here’s another example: rather than say, “So I’ll hear back from you soon” after another interview is concluded [which conveys that one has arrogantly assumed that the job is yours], one should say something more like “I hope to hear back from you soon,” since really that’s all you can take from any job interview [that doesn’t end in signing papers]—hope. If this ever happens to you try not to worry about it. You gave good interviews, and the respective [hostel] jobs weren’t as bad as you imagined. I’m trying not to worry too much about it, too. Time travel does sound nice though. Damned details.

Categories
Glot

Response to the Question

Hiya there! Long time no see, although I suppose it is a large town (especially when you live here). Pardon the delayed reaction. There’s been a lot of ups and downs and just upside downs in life of late. Dude. This place is awesome, and it’s only fair, since you asked, I tell you how much.

I live in the Mission. Not the apartment I wrote about awhile ago on The Glot, if you happen to’ve read it. This was a classic dumb-luck good-find. Our landlord practically pushed the place on us, so as a former electricity salesmen in Australia (great job if you like travel but hate money) I naturally thought there was something wrong with it. My roommates lovingly, patiently convinced me that I was being a dumbass and we got it the next day. So far, so good. It’s an old Victorian or Victorian-esque from at least the 1940’s although we aren’t quite sure; that’s just as long as it’s been in the family. It’s aged well. I sleep in a blue heptagonal room on the third floor with bay windows, with 2 grounded outlets and 13 things that require power, with a walled off fireplace that now hosts a gas heater, along with my girlfriend Lynae. We moved in awhile ago and things have been hectic since. I’m getting used to having a quick pace but being raised in the suburbs never can prepare one properly.

By my room there’s a slightly smaller room looking into the “courtyard,” where my other roommates are. Emily, my best friend from college, former punkrawkr and now cosmetologist/wannabe domestic, and her skatepunk/bartender boyfriend Matt are right adjacent. Down the yellow hallway is a pink living room with two orange chairs garnered from moving into a different old house, some 70s lamps from the same cache, and the dreaded television. Let us not speak of it, for it is my sworn… strong dislike. Our kitchen, beyond there, is bigger than you could hope. I found the perfect table on Craigslist FREE the one day I had a Budget rental van. Happened to be the same day I found our FREE washing machine (which actually worked for almost a month). Now it just sits in the washroom/pantry/does-this-go-here room. There’s also a spare room full of junk plus plants. The Venus Flytrap is growing nicely—caught her first ant just the other day. I water them in the mornings, with a half-decent view to Bernal Hill. Rounding out my whirlwind, totally-TMI tour, we have a backyard! Yay! Other people’s dogs poop there. At least there’s a bike rack, and some chairs. The whole place runs us only $1800 a month so between four we’re doing alright.

It’s in the Mission if you wanted to know. S’all for now. There might be a party sometime, but we’re still in negotiations.

Categories
Glot

Arts and Culture

It’s real easy to feel culturally enriched if you’re lucky. I’m lucky I live in San Francisco. Why, just this weekend I went to two totally bitchin’ open houses for artist’s workspaces in my own neighborhood, experienced a dissertation’s worth of great art, and participated in a super-hip book swap where I traded in the original novelization of Star Wars: Return of the Jedi ("dweet-doo-dee-doo-weee-oop," R2-D2 beeped at the stubborn main computer) for the likes of Will Self’s “Junk Mail,” Nick Hornby’s “Polysyllabic Spree,” two short story anthologies, a Charlie Anders book, and a half-dozen other lucky literary insurgents. There was so little effort involved in doing cool stuff it almost made me feel jaded. But then I realized that I realized how cool it was. And then I was fine.

Categories
Glot

Your Drama

I do not want your drama. Your drama irritates me, and makes me stressed out for things that are not my fault. If I were to make your drama into some sort of woodland creature, I would make it into a bear. A rabid bear. A rabid bear that is raging through the forest, knocking over trees and stomping other wildlife, growling menacingly at deers and chipmunks, until it makes it’s way to my house where it proceeds to abuse my floor and frighten my children and almost destroy it’s own damned TV. In this scenario, the bear has a TV. Let’s not really go into what’s actually happening with this obfuscated bear symbology. Let’s just say that a bear has entered my home, and the bear is quite terrifying. The bear wants me to pay more money to live in my apartment. The bear is going to lick it’s wounds and howl for long stretches into the night. The bear wants to borrow my cellphone, again, for the sixth time. I do not want to live with a bear. Also, I do not want to live with crazy people, who, in magnitude of disturbance to one’s wellbeing, is worse than a rabid forest-bear who drinks all my booze. No bears.