I think we all know that the world is going into a tailspin of insanity, but when I read this article in the Chronicle, I had my suspicions confirmed. Raed Jarrar was an innocent commuter en route from JFK to Oakland and found himself subject to harassment due to his dress and ethnic origin. Be warned, kids: make sure you have no materials in Arabic anywhere on your person while travelling.

This has gone beyond making sacrifices in the name of security and into the realm of the unreal. I think it’s been established that profiling is not terribly effective at this point–why are airport officials still engaging in it?

Apparently, wearing a shirt with Arabic writing on it is grounds for removal from a flight: “Going to an airport with a T-shirt in Arabic script is like going to a bank and wearing a T-shirt that says, `I’m a robber’,” is what the gentleman was told when he was stopped by four unnamed officials. Presumably he was also stopped for “being while Middle Eastern,” which we all know is about the become a criminal offense in this country.

I’m sorry, but I fail to see why wearing a t-shirt should be grounds for harassment or refusal of service. The fact of the matter is that a large portion of the population speaks and writes in Arabic, and it’s not unreasonable that people be seen wearing shirts from their country of origin, or in this case from a political action group speaking out about the war in Iraq. At very least, I thought we were fighting this whole war to protect freedoms and civil rights, not to undermine them.

Given the choice of turning his shirt inside out or wearing another garment over it, he consented to wearing another garment because he couldn’t afford to miss his flight. But I wonder what would happen if there was a mass protest by thousands of people wearing shirts in Arabic all over the country?

After getting my steam on over that article, I read about a new program known as IntelliOne, which intends to use the cell data system to track traffic patterns. It seems like a neat idea, right? To be able to map out congestion, find the shortest distance between two routes, and so forth. Real time traffic updates using on the road data.

But wait…what about that cell data system? I hope my cell phone using readers are aware that as long as your phone is on, it’s in almost constant communication with various cell towers. That’s what gives you that great service you carry on about. As your location changes, your phone works with the cell network to determine the strongest source of signal, delivering a better signal to you when you go to use your phone. In hippie infested areas like Mendocino, after awhile your phone gives up and goes into standby mode, but the rest of the time, it’s questing for service. Your phone is creating a data stream which also includes details on your location, and in theory this data is anonymous and not logged…right? If you’re concerned about privacy issues, you should probably leave your phone off most of the time.

Most new phones also include GPS location–I have my phone set to Emergency/911 only, personally, and I would recommend this setting to other users. Goodness knows how long we’ll be allowed to opt out of turning it off, given the wide range of movement tracking legislation proposals all over the country. (Such as embedding tags in license plates which are intended to track how much you drive, and where, and when.)

What IntelliOne wants to do is tap into this data, look at where phones are and how fast they are moving, and translate this into traffic patterns. It’s claimed that there are no privacy issues–but a case of a third party using my electronic data makes me nervous, especially since I don’t see a way for cell customers to opt out of the program, which is going into widespread use in the Southern States very soon. While I appreciate the idea and the cause, I have to say I’m not all for it. My location is my own affair.

Maybe it’s not me, you know. Maybe it’s the rest of the herd that’s gone insane.

[Arabic shirt]
[cell tracking]

Big news yesterday for the seven million uninsured citizens of California: SB840, a bill designed to create a universal healthcare system for Californians, passed the house and went back up to the Senate. This is the first time in California history that such a bill has passed both houses. The bill is viewed as a major test for the governator, seeing as how this is an election year and many voters have pegged healthcare as a big issue. Apparently he doesn’t support the bill, but we’ve seen surprisingly progressive moves by Schwarzenegger before, showing that he seems to be a bit of a wild card when it comes to toeing the party line. With some leaning, he might be persuaded to pass it.

San Francisco recently implemented a universal healthcare system, which is being viewed by some as a model (and impetus) for a state-wide system. SB840’s proposed structure, however, varies slightly from San Francisco’s: the bill would eliminate all private insurance and create a state-wide California Health Insurance System. This is something that is viewed with suspicion by (surprise!) insurance companies and the lobbies that represent them. I think it’s fairly clear to all of my readers that insurance companies are inefficient, slow moneypits. I am all for throwing out a privately based system in favour of a solidly structured public one. Those who wish to pay more can, if they’d like. The rest of us want to go to the damn dentist already.

The bill claims that it would provide health insurance for all Californians while allowing us autonomy over our doctors and treatment centres. This would make sense–if everyone is covered under the whole system, every doctor, hospital, and treatment facility in California could become a preferred provider.

The bill would also pool resources (including an increase in payroll and individual income taxes) to pay for itself, as well as creating bargaining power for the state as a whole when it comes to getting prescription drugs and medical equipment. A separate panel would need to be formed to more completely create a funding plan, as well as additional legislation.

I’m excited. I would really like to see this bill pass, even though I know it would take several years to be implemented.

I also have several questions. The first surrounds what the plan will pay for. The plan is supposed to cover dental and vision as well as medical, prescription drugs, and hospitalizations. Will this also include psychiatric/psychological care? What about “alternative” providers such as massage therapists, chiropractors, energy workers, acupunture practitioners, and others, many of whom are currently covered under private insurance? I realize that California is viewed as a hippie-dippie state, but many of these practices have valid medical applications–how will this be dealt with under the universal system?

Will the plan have copays, or will health care truly be free to all Californians?

I also disagree with Phil Angelides’ stance on the bill. (Sorry, Phil.) He wants to move slowly towards universal health care by covering all children, and then forcing businesses to cover their employees.

I have several problems with this rationalization. The first is that I think we, as a state, need to take the plunge. The most efficient and effective way to do this is to go for it. I realize that coming from an impulsive person, this might not seem like great advice to follow. But I truly believe that some changes do need to happen in one fell swoop.

The next problem I have is that not everyone in California is employed. What about people working for themselves, or stay at home parents, people with other financial arrangements, or the homeless? When will they get coverage under this grand scheme? If employers are also expected to provide partner benefits (to all partners, in all relationships), this might cover some of these groups–but not all. This seems like it would require more bureaucracy than a straight up switch.

Finally, fuck the children. Children in California can get health care. There are a number of systems in this state aimed at getting health care to children from all walks of live, and I never suffered for health care when I was under 18. I knew that the resources were there when I needed them. What we should be worried about is the 18-25 year old working poor…a large and mostly uninsured sector of California’s society. We bust our balls for forty hours a week or more and hope we don’t get sick–that’s our current health care plan. In addition to representing a big chunk of the uninsured, we also represent a big voting bloc, so listen up, politicians.

Fast facts (and statements of bias):

I haven’t been to the dentist in 10 years. I ignore the pains in my teeth in the hopes that they’ll go away, and meanwhile I brush and floss. Under SB840, I could find out what the hell is going on in there, and perhaps get surgery on my receding gums before my teeth fall out.

My cats have health insurance.

I no longer do as of April of this year.

I have minimal coverage for one condition under a County of Mendocino program, and family planning benefits through the State’s Health Access Program (by fudging the numbers on my income significantly). I also have helicopter insurance through CalStar, and therefore fervently hope that the airlifting crew performs any major medical interventions on me, so I won’t have to pay for them. Alas, airlifting usually comes with a long (and expensive) hospital stay. For all other medical needs, I’m on my own unless my doctor takes pity on me and sneaks them into the billing paperwork for the Health Access planning (sure, she needs an x-ray of her ankle…it’s crucial to gynecaelogical health!)

My current glasses are a four year old prescription. I have difficulty seeing beyond five feet.

Were I to be in a catastrophic accident or have any other kind of health crisis, I would be financially devastated with no hope of repair, largely in thanks to the new bankruptcy laws that won’t allow bankruptcy in the cases of medical debt.

I’m not telling you these things to make you feel sorry for me, I’m telling you these things because they are facts, and because a lot of Californians are in the same position I am. Some are even worse off, without any kind of assistance whatsoever. Either they haven’t learned to work the system yet, or they can’t work it anymore. They are truly screwed–I’m only mostly fucked.

Most of my friends are in the same position I’m in. We read the Barefoot Doctor’s Manual and hope for the best–that’s all we can, and all we can afford, thanks to the society we live in.

My older and more financially stable readers might not face the same health care realities that I do. Perhaps you have insurance, and are able to get medical care when you need it. Perhaps when you break bones, you don’t have them set by friends on the kitchen table (true story, but it wasn’t me) and strapped in muslin until they heal…more or less. Perhaps if you have agonizing jaw pain, you call the dentist and make an appointment, and when your glasses start to go a little fuzzy, you call the optometrist.

More power to you. That’s awesome. I think everyone is entitled to good health care, wherever they are.

But maybe you’re like me, and most of the people I know. Maybe you think universal health care for Californians, and eventually Americans, and worldians, is a really good idea, because you know firsthand what it’s like to not get proper health care. Or maybe you’re just a bleeding heart liberal and it bothers you to think of people living in pain. Maybe you’re a pathologist and you’re horrified at the thought of untreated systemic disease.

So say something. Contact the governor to tell him you support health care for Californians. Look up your legislator, if you don’t already know who it is, and tell them you want to see SB840 pass. It’s an election year, kids: make ‘em tremble!

[SB840]
[health care]

I’ve always had a soft spot for bridges. Especially at night, with their spans alight, there’s something about them that reminds me of massive jewels stretching across the blackness. California’s most famous bridge is probably the Golden Gate, which has become an iconic piece of architecture. Of course, the Golden Gate is also a bitch to commute on, thanks to the fact that it doesn’t have an adequate number of lanes to cope with increased traffic. And those terrifying little pegs instead of proper dividers to separate the traffic. If you’ve ever been in the center of the Golden Gate during rush hour, you know the terror of the pegs, which are alarmingly easy to knock out. In addition, the south-bound toll is $5, more than other Bay Area bridges (which are all around $3). As a side note, I think it’s very interesting that drivers must pay to leave Oakland and the East Bay, while leaving San Francisco is free.

I’ve been spending a lot of time around the Bay Bridge lately, either directly on it or seeing it loom over Treasure Island. I rather like the Bay Bridge. It’s a workhorse, unlike the flashy (and expensive to paint) Golden Gate, and it carries a great deal of traffic daily. The Bay Bridge says “here there is work to be done,” and the Golden Gate says “yay, vacation!” The construction being done on the Eastern Span is also very easy to see from the Island. It’s quite a thing to behold. Big construction gets me all excited inside. I think I may have missed my calling.

California readers may be aware that CalTrans is closing the bridge for an unprecedented amount of time this weekend: from 11:59pm on Friday night to 5am on Tuesday morning. In theory, this is supposed to mean that the muddle of exits, entrances, and traffic accidents waiting to happen on the Western approach are going to be demolished and streamlined. The look of the bridge is going to change dramatically.

There are signs up all over the City, on public transit, and on huge banners strategically located everywhere. One would have to be rather dense to miss the fact that the bridge is going to be closed over Labour Day weekend. On the Island, the leasing company sent out information fliers reminding residents that the eastbound spans would be closed–which means that they can still get into San Francisco, but they’re going to have a hard time getting back to the Island–residents are forced to go all the way around the Bay. Apparently the transit system will be making limited runs, so people won’t be trapped on the Island, but it doesn’t seem like it’s going to be much fun. For once I’m actually glad that I’ll be in Fort Bragg.

The pressing question for most of us is this: why on earth would CalTrans close the Bay Bridge, one of the busiest commuter bridges in the country, over Labour Day weekend? CalTrans that traffic is not as heavy over Labour Day weekend, and that because of the holiday on Monday (I hope the CalTrans workers are making overtime), the work can be completed in three days, rather than in two separate weekends. At this point, however, everyone is dying to know what’s going to happen when the bridge is closed. Will all havoc break loose?

Already, there’s been widespread grumbling because, as on most weekends, a variety of public and private events are scheduled all over the Bay, and attending them just got a lot more complicated. It’s true, the work on the bridge does need to be done–but the masses are restless. I also find it hard to believe that traffic decreases during Labour Day. I understand that CalTrans uses traffic analysis and all that sort of thing, and presumably would know what’s up, but it seems unlikely to me that everyone stays home over the three day weekend. On the contrary, many people come into the City to amble around. People from out of town come in to take advantage of the extra day. And I seem to recall that traffic would always be backed up around Labour Day.

Is CalTrans full of it? I suppose there’s only one way to find out. But if I were you, I’d stay the hell out of the Bay Area this weekend, since it’s going to be a tangle of infuriated and frustrated drivers.

[Bay Bridge]

Yesterday was the Asian Art Museum and a survey of the special exhibit on artistic relations between East and West being shown in the Osher Gallery until September Third. Before we looked at the special exhibition, we wandered around the galleries, because this was the first time I’d seen the Asian in its new setting. (And before you get on my case for calling it “the Asian,” that’s what the museum calls itself, so there.) The new building is very interesting, and showcases the collections much better than the old one did. It also has an awesome floor. The floor plan is simple and very elemental–much like the art on display, and I imagine museum employees enjoy the more pleasant setting. My only major complaint about the building was that the air conditioning was set very low and as a result my ankle started to really bother me. But in general I give the Asian major props for the new home.

The Asian Art Museum in San Francisco is one of the largest museums in the West devoted exclusively to Asian art, and it has a very diverse series of collections ranging from India to Japan. There are pieces which are thousands of years old, as well as contemporary art. It’s quite amazing to see the artistic and technical progression from, for example, 300AD to today. It’s also sort of embarassing, as a Westerner, to be reminded that the East had mastered many techniques in metal working and ceramics long before we’d even thought of them.

I really enjoyed the Japanese wing–the display on Japanese Buddhism was very interesting. The Buddha appears in many guises in Eastern traditions and they had a wide series of representations of him. They also had a small collection of samurai weapons on display which were quite lovely–I wish they had a wider display, tracing the history of Japanese arms through the centuries. As it was, it was amazing to look at thousand year old swords which still had wickedly sharp edges, with elegant and beautiful hilts. Japanese armour is also startlingly beautiful, because it had to be laquered to keep it from corrupting in the damp air and the armour we saw was deliciously ornamented and painted–that something so beautiful could also serve a functional purpose is a splendid thing.

The Asian also has a lovely display of krises, some of which had elaborately bejeweled and ornamented handles. I was curious about the wavy design of many of the Indonesian blades–I’m wondering about the rationale behind it. It certainly seems like it would be rather wicked to be stabbed with one. There’s one I certainly fancied, with a tara on the hilt. We also saw some elaborate dagger holders, one of which was formed in the shape of a massive demon.

We swept through China at a good clip and spent a brief time in Thailand–I can only take so much museum time at once before I become oversaturated. If I lived here, I’d buy a museum membership so I could wander at leisure whenever I pleased. It made me a little sad to see displays of artwork removed from temples in Thailand and Cambodia–I wonder about the circumstances whereby the Asian came by the works. Alas, most museum collections do consist of stolen works, and I know that repatriation of artwork is a growing issue. It seems a pity to not be able to see works of beautiful art from other places, but at the same time it seems like a great tragedy to have your cultural heritage removed to the West.

The Orientalism exhibition was…interesting. I’d love to meet the person who wrote the copy for the placards, because many of them displayed a level of sophisticated, dry wit that I envy with a passion. Many snarky comments crept their way in, that’s for sure. I wish I could get away with snark like that in a major public venue.

There was an amazing display of Eastern-inspired art produced by Westerners, some of which seemed amazingly racist to modern eyes–other pieces were quite lovely. I especially loved the Eastern inspired furniture, especially the pieces built by Chippendale. There were some amazingly beautifully crafted chairs which I rather wanted for my own purposes. Much of the furniture was actually built in the East for Westerners, and Western furniture became very trendy in the East as a result. Being a book nerd, I really loved the early edition of Chippendale’s furniture manual that was on display. I ogled it for quite awhile until I was reluctantly dragged away.

There were also some excellent paintings of an assortment of characters–you could see the infatuation with the mystique of the East bleeding through quite obviously in some cases. The museum did a great job of presenting the cultural collision between East and West, showing how we influenced each other artistically and what it’s like to see ourselves interpreted by a wildly different culture.

We also spent some time looking at the Yeh family collection, which is truly stunning. Examples of Chinese calligraphy stretching back for ages, on scrolls and fans, all privately held as I understand by the Yeh family. I greatly appreciate their willingness to share their cultural treasures with us–it was wonderful to see all the calligraphy work. I was particularly struck by a scroll commemorating a favourite concubine, at 17. There was a lovely painting of her reading, and a poem written to celebrate her birthday. A year later, she was dead, and the work was turned into a memorial scroll. Artists and scholars, the family has impeccable taste and it was a pleasure to view the collection.

I’d highly recommend visiting the museum, if you ever have a chance. A day wondering around thousands of years of priceless art is good for the soul.

[Asian Art Museum]

For all those not aware (hippies, those with their heads under a rock, etc), the miliary has been recalling thousands of soldiers under a program known as “Total Force.” The primary reasoning behind Total Force is that it’s a pity to waste a well trained soldier who has completed ou service. Total Force does kind of suck for the service people involved, who might have been planning on living actual lives when they got out of the military and now have them put on hold again.

The other reasoning for Total Force, of course, is that military enlistment is at an all time low. The military is hurting for a few good men and it’s retaining soldiers at any cost, including forcing them to return for multiple tours of duty without breaks and psychological counseling. And who can blame America’s youth for not enlisting? There’s strong evidence that the military is not fulfilling promises made, which makes it difficult for civilians to be terribly interested in fighting and dying in the desert, lacking proper equipment and supplies. Even ROTC is an alarmingly low level–what’s in it for us? It’s no good having college paid for if you’re dead.

Large numbers of soldiers are dissenting with Total Force, attempting to defect to Canada or get out of additional service in any way possible. Lieutenant Ehren Watada is challenging the legality of the war in Iraq in military court this week. At first he refused to deploy back to Iraq, requesting a posting elsewhere in the war on terror. The military declined and he attempted to get a discharge. Now he’s in military court doing something we all wish, as civilians, that we could do: challenging the military on its own turf.

Civilians may not be aware of the ramifications of Total Force and other military policies, so I’m going to take a moment to spell it out for you: the military is gearing up for involuntary conscription, a polite word for the draft. 18-25 year old readers of both sexes should be concerned. Very concerned. A military draft is the first step in a wider draft. The military is running out of manpower–after all the service people are recalled, who do you think they’ll be contacting next?

We are currently fighting a war on two (known) fronts: Afghanistan and Iraq. Yeah, remember Afghanistan? People are still stationed there…a lot of them. It’s likely that a third front is going to arise within a year, with the invasion of Iran or Syria. We cannot sustain this at current enlistment levels–something has to give. I’ll give you a hint: it won’t be Mr. Bush. The military has put the machine in motion, quietly.

Males 18-25 years old are required to register with the Selective Service, which creates a database of accessible manpower. Failure to register can result in a heavy fine. It also results in ineligibility for federal student aid and many other government assistance programs. You can probably avoid registering for the service if you are wealthy–but the poor have no alternative. The class war applies in many surprising places. President Clinton told Congress in 1994 that: “Maintaining the Selective Service System and draft registration provides a hedge against unforeseen threats and a relatively low cost ‘insurance policy’ against our underestimating the maximum level of threat we expect our Armed Forces to face.” Sure. It also maintains a database of available cannon fodder, which is awfully convenient when you are losing a war on multiple fronts.

So here’s how this is going to work, kids.

The military is building up forces in the Middle East through extensive deployment policies. Before reaching out and touching any more Middle Eastern nations, I suspect that a large scale draft will be instituted so that we will have sufficiently trained forces in time. Right now, women are exempt from the draft: expect that to change. Finally, equality between the sexes!

First, Congress and the President must authorize a draft. Given the current state of Congress, I find it likely that a draft would be approved before the mid-term elections. Therefore, I think it’s highly likely that we will see an attempt to put a draft in effect during November…perhaps after the election, to keep the issue out of the polls, but before January when the new House sits. Congress will pass a law, and Mr. Bush will sign it. Then the real fun begins.

The lottery begins with 20 year olds, and drafts 21, 22, 23, 24, and 25 year olds sequentially. 18 and 19 year olds will be called if necessary. But readers 20-22 are probably most at risk in a draft situation. All other parts of the selective service, including administrative divisions, reserves, and National Guard, would also be activated. With war comes paperwork.

After being called up, draftees are evaluated for mental, “moral,” and physical health and graded accordingly. After the evaluation is complete, the registrant has 10 days to fight it before he’s shipped off. Therefore, appeals boards will also be activated to process the anticipated large number of appeals. Hint: you don’t want to be 1A–almost anything else will do.

The Selective Service, by Federal mandate, must deliver soldiers within 193 days of activation of a draft. The groundwork has been lain: soon the trap will be sprung.

What you can do if you object to the draft:

Vote wisely, and indicate your opposition of a draft to your representative.

Consider registration as a conscientious objector, and gather your supporting evidence now. There are two types of objectors–those who object to all forms of military service, and those who are willing to serve in noncombatant positions. Depending upon your stance on the military, you may wish to consider qualifying as 1AO, because your appeal is more likely to be approved. Desk jobs may be boring, but sometimes you can coax the military into paying for advanced career training, which might come in handy later.

Ministerial students and ministers are exempted from service, as are certain individuals of dual or alien nationality. But don’t count on that last–even illegal aliens are expected to register. You may be exempt if you hold dual citizenship with a nation which already has a national service program, or if you are a dual citizen with an enemy of the state (such as North Korea, Iraq, or Iran).

Sometimes you can have a conscription deferred based upon hardship, but deferments do end eventually.

The question you must ask yourself is this: how much do you want to support the war machine?

If you are strongly opposed to military service, you may want to consider emigration. But be warned that many countries are nervous about an influx of American immigrants, and you may not find yourself welcome, especially if you are lacking in a socially useful skill set. Establishing dual citizenship may be easier, and it would allow you to defect when the time came.

If you are disabled, even partially, you want to make sure that this is clearly established with the selective service.

Fleeing service is always a choice: of course, so is violent revolution.

What’s it going to be, kids?

[draft]

So we had dinner at The Bistro last night. It was surprisingly mellow given all the people in town, although we did come in a little on the later side. But it was rather serene. The thing about the Bistro for me is not just that the food is awesome, which it is, but that the staff love their customers and the owners love their staff. I know I sound like a giant hippie when I say this, but the energy there is very good. I don’t sense bitterness and trying to get through another shift, even though all of us have days like that sometimes. I always receive such excellent service there that I honestly can’t quite figure out how they do it. You’d think I’ve eaten there enough times at this point that inevitably something would have happened. But no. The staff are always unfailingly kind, courteous, and loving. I feel like there are no stupid questions, like I’m lounging around someone’s back yard being brought out plates of delicious food, a member of the family. The only time I’ve ever had cause for complaint was when a waiter once accidentally left something off my bill and I pointed it out to her under the assumption that she might want to fix it. Which is not a complaint, so much, I suppose.

I’ve had terrible service at some point in every other restaurant in town, even those which are normally excellent. But never the Bistro, and I happen to think that’s a very respectable track record. (Granted, I hope I’m not a very needy/bitchy customer and therefore probably don’t inflame the staff as much I could, potentially. But still.)

The food was excellent to the highest degree, as always–I had the seafood chowder which was gratifyingly studded with chunks of potato and dead pig, and we followed with a special entree–yellow jack served with salmon wontons and black rice.

The wontons were deliciously white trash in a way I can’t quite describe, more like haute white trash, because they were prepared with excellent ingredients and they had creamy goodness inside and were fried. They were more or less precisely what I was craving and, given carte blanche, I probably would have eaten an entire plate of them if I had been left unguarded. I don’t know what the general stance of the world is on salmon wontons, but I say a-ok.

I sometimes wonder, while I’m eating, if the kitchen is into what’s going on, or if they’re just catering to the masses. Sometimes I long for something totally crazy to come out of the kitchen, but I know whenever Nicholas adds something to the menu that’s a little “strange,” it meets with a frosty reception. And that’s a bummer, because I think people should be able to express their creativity in commercial kitchens, making food that they feel passionate about. And the thing is that Nicholas could make a bowl of shit taste good. That man could make me eat pretty much anything, and I don’t understand why other people don’t take advantage of his amazing talents when he gets up to hijinks in the kitchen. It’s my fervent hope that someone in the kitchen came in and said “I’m craving salmon wontons guys, let’s do it.” Food is life.

I had a coffee sundae for dessert. Well, coffee gelato, specifically speaking. But the chocolate sauce and the whipped cream are so damn good that I would probably just eat a bowl of those–the gelato is like a nice addition to an already perfect combination. (And before any of you ask why I don’t like coffee but do like coffee desserts, I have two words: shut up.)

Now, what my dining partner had was a thing of glory. She ordered the cheesecake, which was served with wine poached pears. I know, sounds pretty excellent already. But when Chrystal brought it out, it had three tuiles stuck into it, and the tuiles were like spines, curving up and towering over the cheesecake. I longed for a camera at that instant, because it was a fantastic dessert construction. Imagine a crown, a giant gaudy crown with huge spikes set with studs of wine poached pear. Go forth and order it, I tell you. This is how dessert should be, damnit.

And the cookie: ideal. Soft. Chewy. I knew from the moment I saw it that this would be love, and I was right, glory be. Oh, how right I was. I actually said “oh,” just “oh,” when I sunk my teeth into it, and sat in silent contemplation for a moment before snapping the rest up like a hippo at feeding time.

Once again, I am driven to thank the staff at the Bistro: keep on being excellent, kiddos.

[food]

water is invisible
so the color is
indifferent

I ate dragonfruit while I was in the City.

We were driving down 13 and B was in the backseat gorging himself on an assortment of eclectic fruit purchased at the Berkeley Bowl. I pointed out that he might have trouble at the airport and he decided to eat it all, right there in the backseat, and he split the dragonfruit open with his keys.

“This smells like a rhubarb’s asshole,” he says. “Want to try some?”

We decide that dragonfruit is like the brains of a kiwi, because it’s grey in colour but identical in texture to a kiwi, seeds and all. It’s creamy and delicious.

“It’s a fruit orgy,” he cries joyously while peeling a lichi. “Will someone take my picture?”

at best or
irrelevant
to the final

Later, we go to Zen Springs, a spa in Oakland, for a tub. The internet is a fabulous place and so are all the spa listings in it. First we were on the wrong side of Broadway, and then finally we found the right street. (We were thinking Jackson and we wanted Jefferson.) As the four of us pulled up we glanced at each other nervously. Zen Springs is right outside the financial district, but it looks seedy and sketchy. Oh god, I think, what have I gotten us into?

We step inside to a tranquil oasis. Flawlessly decorated, clean, and beautiful. The man shows us all the rooms and we pick the largest one, with a sauna and tub. It’s called the Autumn room. Sprawled in the tub, we look up at the starry ceiling and then over at the “yoga platform” and start giggling uncontrollably.

Later, while I’m lying on the top shelf of the sauna maligning the sauna pussies outside the door, M fills a bucket with ice water, marches in, and pours it all over me.

The floor is cool and tiled.

form of anything
except that almost
everything is made

Later still I am lying upstairs doing battle with the memory foam while music leaks up from downstairs. I can see the stars from one window, and the lights of the Bay Bridge twinkling from another. Outside, a tree rustles in the growing breeze. Defeated, I wedge a pillow under my legs because the bed keeps sinking away under me.

of melon and shaped
like the ocean in
its shapeless lazy

Driving home in the small hours of the morning, Fort Bragg looks defeated and small, an empty sleeping town filled with dim streetlights and decaying businesses. Never before has it looked this woeful to me. As we drive past the Guest House I roll down the window and shout:

“WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU ATE DRAGONFRUIT, BITCH!”

My voice echoes in the emptiness, the city clock glaring defiantly back at me. We turn onto Laurel and Headlands is lit up like a Christmas tree, like always, weighed down in the stillness of the night.

At home, I think about the lights of the City.

and always moving
moving perfection
xx

“Guys: A word of advice. Marry pretty women or ugly ones. Short ones or tall ones. Blondes or brunettes. Just, whatever you do, don’t marry a woman with a career.”

That’s right kids! Career women are bad for your marriage! This Forbes article makes such a dazzling array of offensive assumptions that it actually, literally, boggled my mind, which rarely happens. I snorted once about halfway down the page and spent the rest of the article with my jaw open.

It seems the rest of the internet agreed with me, because within hours the original article had been pulled altogether. Forbes admitted that the article met with “heated opinion.” Later on Wednesday evening, the article reappeared in a point-counterpoint format. Forbes also pulled another piece by the same author (read the cached version here).The whole affair was quite amusing–Forbes posted an article that someone must have guessed would be offensive, and then pulled it, but by then it was too late and screen captures were all over the internet. So this is the weak attempt to save face, apparently.

Forbes wants to assure you that by “career woman” they don’t mean someone “minding a cash register,” they mean a college educated lady making at least thirty thousand a year. She’s going to resent making more than you, if she does, or she’ll resent making less than you, if she does. If she has to stay home with the kids, she’ll be bitter. If she has kids, she’ll be sad. Apparently, “wives’ employment does correlate positively to divorce rates,” and Forbes missed the “correlation is not causation” lecture in general psych because the author goes on to list the evidence for the destruction of the modern marriage courtesy of the “career woman.”

“When your spouse works outside the home, chances increase they’ll meet someone they like more than you.”

Because, of course, women need to stay at home and look after the children. We’re far too flighty to be trusted in the outside world–we might be dazzled by the colours. What ever happened to not dipping your nib in the office ink? I love how Forbes is just assuming here that women have no integrity, that it’s impossible to work closely with people and not fall madly in lust with them.

And, of course, sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. If women leave the house and meet other people, presumably men are capable of doing the same.

“According to a wide-ranging review of the published literature, highly educated people are more likely to have had extra-marital sex…”

It’s interesting that two of Forbes’ points are based on sexuality. The point above assumes that women can’t leave the house without dropping their pants. The next cements the assumption that extramartial sex is a problem.

Well…is it?

It depends on the marriage, and the people doing the sexing. But I wouldn’t jump to assume that it is a problem, especially since a large proportion of the polyamorous community is highly educated. Perhaps the real issue is that education opens the mind to social and sexual exploration, whether or not one is a “career woman”. After all, Forbes grudgingly admits that it’s “highly educated people” who are more prone to shenanigans. Therefore presumably highly educated husbands are doing their fair share of extramarital boinking–why isn’t this being discussed?

The article goes on to stress that you are less likely to have kids, once again assuming that everyone wants them. I suppose if one went into a relationship with someone who wanted kids, it could be a point of tension. But can’t two adults decide to lay their priorities elsewhere?

The only part of the article that vaguely makes sense is the assertion that when labour is divided in a household, all members tend to be happy because all the work is getting done. The article also suggested that it didn’t matter who was working outside and who was working inside, so perhaps marrying career women is only bad if you’re a career man.

While listing a slew of studies, he curiously seems to have difficulty citing a study which says precisely that career women are the issue. It seems like this would be a difficult thing to prove when the issue revolves around a household where both partners are heavily involved in their careers. Which partner is it that’s causing the problem? The career woman, the career man, or both? Women with higher working hours may put a stress on the marriage, but the author doesn’t say exactly how high these working hours are, or what other factors might be involved. The Johnson study the author cites indicates that marriages where both partners work outside the home are more likely to end in divorce–not surprising if both partners are unable to dedicate time to their marriage.

Indeed, the whole article is a soup of very traditional assumptions about marriage and family values. I know plenty of professional childfree polyamorous couples who have beautiful, strong, wonderful marriages. Both primary partners work outside the home. And somehow they make things work. Curiously, Forbes hasn’t turned to alternative models of marriage in discussing the problems with marriage. Presumably they are of the opinion that there is only one type of marriage which can possibly be successful…which is interesting when one considers our current divorce rate.

At the end of the article, a study suggesting that married people are generally healthier is mentioned. I love the addendum, though: “A word of caution, though: As with any social scientific study, it’s important not to confuse correlation with causation. In other words, just because married folks are healthier than single people, it doesn’t mean that marriage is causing the health gains.”

Poorly edited article? The author appears to be contradicting himself, asserting at the top of the article that a correlation is causation with a series of supporting points, and then denying himself at the bottom of the piece. Someone really ought to fix that.

Is it the fearsome “career woman” who is destroying the modern marriage? Or is it a more systemic problem in society?

[career woman]

A giant hug for the person who tracked down the extended version of The Box for me.

I thought it was gone forever after my car was robbed.

And now I am listening to it on high volume, beer in hand, in the recliner.

Thank you, dude. You don’t even know how happy I am right now.

It was early afternoon when I struggled awake through a fog of warmth and comfort. It had been a long evening and I was one of the first up thanks to the dastardly deviant who had the audacity to enter my sanctum. I glared at the interloper in the doorway.

“Tea,” I croaked. “Tea!”

“Beep,” said my phone, buried somewhere.

In response, he mercilessly thrust a glass of water at me and disappeared.

After a brisk shower, I felt more prepared to enter the world and I drifted downstairs in a pair of pants I found that looked reasonably clean and last night’s shirt. Coffee was brewing next to the stove and I ignored it, as I always do. I haven’t touched coffee in ten years–no reason to start now. Paul Oakenfold was playing softly on the stereo and the morning was muffled in fog. I put the tea kettle on and rummaged in the cupboards until I found some Earl Grey that looked decent.

I went out into the back to see what sort of day it was going to be and while I stood there pondering the sky a hand thrust a warm cup into my hand. The smell was suspicious and I raised my eyebrow.

“Drink,” he said.

“I don’t drink coffee,” I said.

“Drink it,” he said.

Caught up in the moment, or perhaps still half asleep, I hesitantly raised it to my lips and sipped.

Jeffrey Steingarten says about coffee that: “Have you ever felt that coffee–in the roaster or the grinder, in the can or in the bag, in the coffeemaker or the cup–nearly always smells better than it tastes? This is the cause of our eternal torment and discontent, us coffee lovers. We never stop searching for the impossible, for a way to drink the heady, complex, incomparable aroma of coffee...The predominant flavors are caramel, flowers (including jasmine), fruit, chocolate, honey, and toast–but only if you do everything exactly right. One false step and you are totally doomed. One false step and you will never taste the jasmine.*”

Perhaps it was merely the morning, half asleep and brooding, the sense of being hungover but never having been drunk. Perhaps it was the company. Perhaps it was a confluence of the music, the fog, the air, the scents around me. It was the heat of the moment, she says.

But I tasted a little bit of heaven that morning. Unusually for me, I wasn’t even able to utter a profanity when I lowered the cup–I just looked back at him, stunned.

“See,” he said, a little smugly. “You like it, don’t you?”

He took a drag of his cigarette and a sip of coffee from his own cup.

“Woah,” I said, taking another furtive sip. “What on earth is this?”

“This,” he said, “is Blue Mountain.”

Blue Mountain, true Blue Mountain, must be certified by the Coffee Industry Board of Jamaica. Only four parishes are allowed to produce coffee which can be labeled “Blue Mountain”: Saint Andrew, Saint Thomas, Portland, and Saint Mary. The trademarked coffee must be grown between 3,000 and 5,500 feet in order to be labeled thusly.

It’s one of the most expensive and sought after coffees in the world, and now I understand why.

My first cup of Blue Mountain made me question my previously held beliefs about coffee. It was mild, rich, nutty, and the scent of jasmine rolled from it around my nose and across my tastebuds. It was perfection in a single cup, so pure and spectacular that it caused me to give a momentary thanks to the gods.

I can’t quite explain the experience. I hadn’t had coffee in ten years, so it’s hard to contrast it with other types of coffee. I don’t smoke, so my tastebuds aren’t corrupted. But the flavour was out of this world. It embodied for me what I always imagined coffee should be like. I drank it and I understood, suddenly, addiction.

Try it sometime…if you can afford it.

*It Must Have Been Something I Ate, Vintage Press, 2002

[Blue Mountain Coffee]