Category Archives for art

a screw loose

a screw loose

somewhere between here and las vegas i must have lost a screw, and naturally the possibilities for innuendo are almost too much for me to bear. caution to the wind, the screw holding my front right turn indicator into its place must be lying on the highway somewhere between here and there, and so i had to add to the list of unsavory-sounding tasks to accomplish for my day, which also included pumping tires, changing oil, and getting me, myself, juiced.

the pumping, and the juice (and the coffee and tartine) were easy tasks, as was the oil – and yet i thought the oil would have been the perfect place for the screw. but it turns out it is just not that easy to walk into the jiffy lube, look seriously into the pimples of the teenage boy’s faces, and say “i need a screw; can you help me?” and not just any screw — but a particularly long screw, it seems.

i managed this unlikely request anyway, and after my car was done i was told i had oil leaks, transmission fluid leaks, but that they did not, in fact, have the screw i needed.

when i got into the car and peered out the newly-grimy windows from the boys’ dirty cloths, i wondered where i could drive to where i could see a sign saying “we have the screw you need,” or even better, “we have the perfect screw for you.” you just don’t go around finding things like this lying on the ground when you need them, either, though i can recall several instances of finding screws lying around — just not the right ones.

the big categories of the day have stores or service stations to go along with them. (if i hadn’t pumped my tires and) if my tires blew, god forbid, they have stores that give you nothing but tires. there are places for transmissions. there are gas stations and places for oil changes – without the screws. there is just no place, like the ‘just chairs’ store in san francisco, for screws. ‘just screws.’ further, ‘just screws for moya’s front-right-turn indicator.’ … and in the back of my mind i am aware that if you don’t take care of these little things, they become bigger things. like an entire right-turn indicator lying on the road, or stuck up in the motor somewhere … and then i’d have to go to the ‘new car’ place, or worse.

sometimes its the little screws that hold us together, or keep us apart. i’m sure there’s a pun in here somewhere. it’s just almost too much to bear.

‘food grows where water flows’

‘food grows where water flows’

yesterday i slept the whole day, save for a somnambulist drive to the airport for leanne and an equally sleepy laundry experience. it hardly felt like san francisco because it was so hot. i had to draw the curtains and keep out the day anyway, which fit the mood of being one of those non-days. but today, the wind has whipped a milky layer of fog between my city and the sun and it feels good to be back.

there’s a highway in the middle of the central valley that cuts from 99 to 5 and takes you through “wasco — a nice place to live”. highway 46. i love highway 46. it’s one of those two-lanes where people speed faster than they do on the 5, even though the road is reguarly bisected by other roads, and trucks themselves pass other trucks at eighty. but on some stretches, there is no vehicle in sight, and i rolled down my window and turned up evanescence and felt like a teenager. ‘wasco — a nice place to live’ grows roses, and passing by rose-studded fields, the air was full of perfume. i tried not to think of the pesticides collecting in the bowl of the central valley – no sign of organics in sight – while i marvelled at the massive agriculture that we must ship everywhere in the world. ‘food grows where water flows’ – but there is hardly water in sight. how do our resources keep up?

leanne clued me in to the ‘desert demonstration gardens‘ in las vegas, which i got to visit on my way out on friday. it was definitely a neat little plot of land, showing how to grow gardens with varying levels of low resources, low water. it’s amazing what grows natively in the desert, though you wouldn’t think so driving down the freeway. the joshua trees don’t seem to start till the mojave desert, but i think it would be pretty cool to have a backyard full of joshua trees. that is, if i could take the heat anymore. the demonstration gardens were very sweet, though, and quite an interesting contrast at that, just a few scant blocks from venice, paris, new york, and the rest of what doesn’t exactly grow natively in the desert.

it was definitely odd to be in los vegas on september 11. money grown out of dust – and evaporated into thin air – by the what? billions? oases of trashy opulence – in the middle of the desert. most people living in the middle of the desert live with little resource, or so i guess, not having been to most major deserts in the world; not so in the middle of nevada. and i right there, making my living – one way or another – along with it. another contrast i don’t know what to do with. at least i try to recognize the contradiction, respect the resources we have, enjoy the local organic foods (thanks to jessica prentice for last saturday night in san francisco), value most the people who try to understand the sources of pain and attack, and respect the great diversity in the world. and in fact, uwe and i went to new york new york on september 11, and i do definitely recommend zumanity. no better place to respect diversity, and a fresh contrast to the rest of the silicone lapdance of the strip.

postscript

i had played johnny cash on my way down the 5 sunday. i didn’t find out he had died on friday until crossing the bay bridge later that night (well, standing on the bay bridge together with the pacbell park traffic). one more ‘voice of the common man’ – gone. or is it?

greetings from lost wages

greetings from lost wages

i sit in a room full of people dressed in navy shirts and fancy ‘speaker’ badge necklaces, and pause for a moment to contemplate my own navy shirt and fancy ‘speaker’ badge in a momentary crisis of commonality. during conferences like this, one so rarely goes outside into the air in general; now compound that with the twenty-four-hour gambling interior that is los vegas, and begin to feel the blood molecules as they implode and merge at the same time into all that surrounds, into one common mass.

so it can really be a treat to actually be outside.

i just wandered into another five-minute sojourn in the ‘real outside’, or at least as real as las vegas gets outside, and the air felt like full-bodied wine. the sunlight poured like honey, my skin soaking the air like a sponge. it tempts me to look for an inside / outside metaphor somewhere in all of this, but far be it for me to search for metaphor where none exists — and alas — my identity feels too challenged at the moment to try. notice now i did just this anyway. and just what does a minor emphasis in spanish mean, anyway?

friday i go all the way back, curving the backward j around highway 15, up 5, and back to san francisco to try to find out again.