Open Letter to the San Francisco Board of Supervisors:

I did not ride my bike to work today. Why should you care? Well, my tush and shoulders are sore. Why is this? Because they have been battered by the bumps and potholes from riding on San Francisco streets. At most, I can ride to work about three days a week, and I have a mountain bike with nice cushy tires. How those messengers ride every day on those road bikes is beyond me. They must have buns of steel.

I live in the Mission. If you live there or nearby, I'm sure you are aware that the once-beautiful Valencia street bike lane is now a mess of steel plates and gravel. I don't even try to ride down that street anymore. It's too dangerous swerving here and there to avoid bumps and other hazards, it makes it too hard to pay attention to traffic. Westbound Market Street is also a mess, especially from the Embarcadero to City Hall. On my way home, I have resorted to taking Howard, but the pavement is not much better, and the traffic is way too fast.

I understand that you guys may cut the funding for street maintenance. This is really hard to fathom, especially if you are committed to making San Francisco a bike friendly town. Most of the cyclists I know don't ride around town, and they all say the same thing; the streets are in terrible shape which makes riding too much of a headache, not to mention a bum-ache too. We have to deal with drivers who run us over, and then only get a tickets for illegal right turns; we have to deal with people parked in the bikes lanes (usually the cops, can they write their own tickets please?) so we have to swerve into traffic to avoid them; the pavement is a mess, which also makes us swerve to avoid the holes, or we can take a nice jolt in the butt and shoulders. All options are dangerous and nerve-wracking. And now you’re going to make the problem worse? Please tell me how this makes sense.

As supervisors, I'm sure you don't want your constituents to have bruised hands, shoulders, or tushies. It makes us irritated, and frankly, when you consider cutting funding for street maintenance, it is tantamount to adding insult to injury. I'm offended that you would even consider it an option. Even motorists know that San Francisco streets are an embarrassment to our beautiful city. In my opinion, if you need more money in the budget, why don't you cut the funding for the Keystone SF Cops? I mean, they can't solve any real crimes, so they resort to ticketing cyclists. Somehow, I think that they have their priorities backwards. Perhaps they should put more effort into solving real crimes, instead of looking the other way when we get run over, and parking in our bike lanes while they write us tickets. Frankly, the cops are a bigger embarrassment to San Francisco than the roads!

Believe me, I will be thinking about all of you at city hall the next time my bum feels like a victim of Barry's bat. For the sake of my cheeks, please do not cut the funding for road maintenance and repair. If anything, you should double it and get the streets fixed. Thanks for your time.

An open letter to the Democrats:

I cannot believe how completely lame and impotent the political process in this country has become. The Democrats have a majority in Congress and you cannot even stop the policy of a mostly hated president with a failed foreign policy. You really disgust me. What ever happened to Democracy? The majority of this country wants the war to end, and you cave in to Bush and his oil-based foreign policy. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic, pathetic! How do you look in the mirror?

When are any of the "leaders" in this country going to actually start talking about something that matters to the populace? When will there be serious health care legislation? When will Bush's tax cuts be repealed? When will be quit blowing money on the military and actually provide a decent education for America, instead of having an immigration policy that lets us import skilled people from other countries? Oh, that's right, I forgot. Everyone in Washington is on the corporate leash, and your masters do not want you to actually represent the people; you have all been such good doggies! That’s right, lift your leg on Democracy and take a poo on the Constitution. Here’s a treat! I really appreciate it. Here, I’ll scratch your butt too! I hate comparing you to dogs; it’s an insult to all dogs. At least they're loyal. People are wrong when they say prostitution is the oldest profession, it's politics!!

In parting, please send me information on good countries for American expatriates. I am tired of my taxes subsidizing the rich and their wars. I am going to move to a civilized (and democratic) country where the government takes care of their own people. You guys make me sick! Grow some balls.

Most Sincerely,
Darren Riesz

So which is more Naive, thinking that love can make everything work out, or thinking that a person can get through a divorce without being bitter? I've known for years that the first is naive, and it was probably the most painful lesson of life, but I've never been married before, nor divorced. I never fooled myself by thinking the love would be enough for both of us, I'm too old to think that is true anymore. Our relationship was not perfect, but it was no less imperfect than any I've had before. But this sadness is getting bitter.

I don't really believe in comparing love and relationships in terms of better and worse; I just think they are all different because one is a different person in each of them. The love is different for every person I love. It was no different with her. It was completely different with her. I loved her in a way that I have never loved anyone. It was not a jealous love (I don't think that was mutual). It was not a possessive love. It was a love that took delight in knowing that there is such a sweet, funny, caring, loyal, and blatantly honest person in this world. She was (is) just wonderful. She never tried to control me or make me be something I'm not (well, for most of the time). If that were true of most women, I probably would have gotten married a long time ago. (I guess "unconditional love" is also bullshit?) She loved and accepted me for what I am, AND FOR ALL I AM NOT AND NEVER WILL BE, and that is a very powerful thing.

This is why I thought everything would work out between us. That, and maybe because I'm a bit older now; I figured our maturity would help us work out our problems. I was wrong. Everything changed. I can't count how many times we talked about it. It never got any better. I could list the reasons. I already have in my head, but that would be unfair to her, and certainly in bad taste. I thought it would work. I tried so hard, but we made each other miserable. Cupid misses, again.

I'm not sorry we broke up. I know it's the right decision, but it's funny how knowing that doesn't make it any easier to go through. It really just makes me very sad to think about it. There is just a sense of loss, with no way to recover. Just getting on with life is the only way; I keep telling myself to "let go" of everything, but I suppose that will happen only in the due course of "Darren's world" or whatever. Some people get over things very fast. Then there are people like me who are of the more brooding sort. I've always thought of people who get over things quickly as rather shallow, but whatever. Maybe they are lucky. So I just get sad when I think about it, and maybe the whole "letting go" thing is why I am writing this. I don't want (or deserve) any sympathy. I just want some kind of echo or whatever, some way of keeping track of everything. Maybe one day I'll look back and see how necessary it was to write this, how it is something far in the past. It's sad. I just want to get over it. This seems to be the only way, a recognition of time gone by; It's been three months since we've split up.

That's all for now.

Here's a poem that suits the mood of late. Written some time ago, but some things never change.


How It Ends

I
We just wanted
For the world
To be beautiful

But Plato's footnotes
Burned with
Innocent words

Spring break
She smiled
Moving 101 south

You can't return
Once you say
I love you

II
Not a wedding
Or a divorce
Packing the car

Not the one
Or not ready
Or both

III
In late hours
I made camp
Among the lonely

Cigarettes and reflections
Decades malted
Into monologue

The view becomes
A reflection
Of some value

There's no regret
Only the rain
Falling

Another year in America and another 10,000 gun deaths, 33 of which have been highlighted this week in Virginia. Funny how when educated white people get blasted it's suddenly front page news. What’s even funnier is that President Bush offers his condolences when he has been a total opponent of gun control. He let the Assault Weapons Ban expire, and has done absolutely nothing to regulate the sale of handguns which were used in the Virginia Tech shootings. His alligator tears are an insult to those who have lost their friends, sons, daughters, and teachers. How many more incidents like this will we go through before we pass some meaningful gun control legislation, with NO sunset provision? How much more of W’s bullshit will we have to listen to? How many more laws will he break before we impeach him? Who the fuck is running this country anyway? One thing is clear: It is not “We the people.”

Speaking of guns, I’m reading Mark Bowden’s book Black Hawk Down. There are lots of guns in it. Surprisingly, the movie stays quite true to the book, but you certainly get to know the characters a bit better. It also illustrates the Somali side of the story, which basically goes like this, “The Americans came with their super-weapons and slaughtered many of our leaders. Some of us are caught in the middle. Then one of their helicopters crashed into my house. Most of us want some payback. Let’s shoot them.” On the American side, it’s a very sad story about bad intelligence, bad planning, mis-understanding our enemy, and poor coordination of forces across multiple branches of the military. It’s similar to the Iran hostage rescue attempt; when you have multiple branches of the military working together, there will always be inter-service rivalry (not to mention different operating procedures), which will short circuit the cooperation needed to pull off the operation. The Black Hawk Down incident had Army Rangers, Delta Force, Navy Seals, and Air Force CSAR medics, all involved in the same operation. And even though there was one commander, things went terribly awry. How that operation was even initially conceived is beyond me. Perhaps it had something to do with a sort-of post cold-war boredom that had everyone in the D.O.D. looking for something to do, so they all got involved in Somalia. But anyway, I'm sure it won’t be the last time that ill-conceived plans result in the deaths of our guys. Look at Iraq.

I’m not saying I know anything about that stuff. It’s pretty easy to sit here in my air-conditioned cube and type away. I would never try to second-guess those commanding the situation or those under fire. It’s a chaotic situation. This quote from the film sums it up nicely:

Hoot: See you're thinking. Don't. Cuz' Sergeant, you can't control who gets hit or who doesn't, or who falls out of a chopper, or why. It ain't up to you. It's just war.

So I'm an official "cycling nut" now. I bought a set of panniers so I can go to the grocery store and shop. They are bright red. I had trouble getting the rack I have to fit on my bike. It's a mountain bike and doesn't have eyelets where the rack attaches to the seat stays. I had to buy a rack with c-clamps to go around the stays. Another problem was the bolts included with the rack were too big for the bottom holes. It cost $0.76 for new hardware. I put the rack on last night. I'll be ready to geek when it stops raining. Yay efficiency! Someone has to do it.

Like most nuts, I'm in a cult. You can check it out here:

http://www.sfbike.org/

My membership gives me 10% off groceries, books, some athletic gear, and bike stuff of course:

http://www.sfbike.org/?discounts#shops

They are hella cool. I interned there for a while. They have made a lot of progress making San Francisco a more bike friendly and clean city. I applaud their efforts. YOU GUYS ROCK.

I am moving into a new place this weekend. My friend Cory needs a new roommate. He's totally cool. Mellow and not a slob. I've moved in with friends before only to discover that they never clean the toilet, or anything else. I was trying to find a place with a female roommate, but as Cory is one of the few neat males in the world, everything should work out fine. My room is quite large too. All my stuff should fit without a problem. It's in the Mission on 21st St, close to everything.

My friend Erich has been totally cool to me. I've been staying at this place for a while now. He has been very generous and laid back about the whole thing. He said it was cool to have me around, and even told me to stop thanking him for letting me stay. Sorry man, but one last time, THANK YOU, YOU ARE SERIOUSLY COOL AS HELL. I OWE YOU ONE!! We've BBQed, played a lot of Tiger Woods 2007 (now I can finally beat him), and laughed our asses off at the Daily Show and Colbert Report. It's been cool living with him. He's awesome. DUDE, THANKS AGAIN.

So I've been reading a bit lately. I have a hard time reading anymore. So many books bore me, but Killing Pablo by Mark Bowden is definitely an interesting tale, probably because it's true. It's the story of how the US and Columbian Governments hunted and killed Pablo Escobar, the most notorious cocaine kingpin ever. The story reveals much about the recent history of Columbia, it's government (or lack thereof), and the U.S. relationship with it, through both official and unofficial channels. The size of the manhunt was truly staggering. At one point, the F.B.I., D.E.A., C.I.A., Army Centra Spike, Delta Force, and various Columbian police, army, and vigilante units, were all hunting for Pablo Escobar. It is fascinating that a man with that much money and power could be killed with the help of our Government, but we still can't seem to find broke-ass Osama Bin Laden hiding out in Pakistan. I find this ironic, and I wonder if it is intentional. Osama is worth more alive to the Rebublicans and the military industrial complex; like the war on drugs, it gives them justification to blow lots of money on the military, when there is no military solution to those problems. When Escobar was finally killed, there was more cocaine flowing into the United States than at any other point till then, something along the lines of 300 tons a year, worth about 30 billion dollars. The war on drugs was a joke, just like the war on terrorism. There is no military solution to the war on terror, because the goal of the enemy is not military victory, it's political. Their primary tool is fear, and when we succumb to it and let it influence our actions, the terrorists have already won.

Anyway, Killing Pablo is a great book. Now I'm reading his other book, Black Hawk Down. I own the movie, but I wanted to get inside the heads of the men on the ground. Books are better for that. They certainly convey thoughts and feelings with more details than most films. The movie was very good, and so far, the book is great. It certainly shows the Somali side of the issue more. I'm sure I'll write more about it later.

The Excavation

(Report from site XB-71; Coordinates: 37°45'0"N 122°26'1"W; Date: October 5, 4007)

We can see from the data
That Noe Valley Man
Had a strange obsession
About the feet.

Noe Valley Man
Had vibrating bricks
With protruding grids.
With electricity he would
Make them vibrate
Massaging the soles
Of his feet.

In this particular find
We can see that this man
Was named “Motorola”
And his wife “Nokia.”

Noe Valley Man
Loved grass between his toes.
He would congregate
In open grassy areas.
Likely, he would converse
About politics and philosophy
While walking.

Then he would stop
To bathe the soles of his feet
In metals basins
With fresh running water,
And likely ponder upon
His tall skyscrapers.

Later, he would go
To the foot-spa
And have his feet massaged
With pink knives
Made of plastic.

Other data collected
From the dig
Show that Noe Valley Man
Was fond of metal
In flat geometric shapes.
These decorated his streets
And might have had
Some religious significance.

They lined Church Street
Where the dessert carts
Of his cannibalistic religion
Rode on rails in front
Of his temple.

We can deduce
That Noe Valley man
Had a symbiotic affair
With small, furry,
Four-legged animals.
He worshipped them so
That he pushed them around
In plush wheeled carts,
And even carried them,
In a special nylon harness
Worn over his shoulders.
This particular one
Was named “McClaren”.

We can definitely conclude
That Noe Valley Man
Had a lesser relative
Called Smoking Man
Who lived in cages.
The cages were small
And lined with glass,
But had an opening
That faced the street
So they could be given
Food and drink,
And petted by
Passers-by.

Noe Valley Man
Had a strange affection
For hollow metal shells.
We think these too
Are religious artifacts
As they lined his streets.
Some think they were Altars
For cannibalistic sacrifice,
But many of our colleagues
Think they were merely
Works of art.

However,
We do know conclusively
That Noe Valley Man
Loved bit of gleaming metal
And had galleries
Filled with wire triangles,
Even though he hid his eyes
Behind lenses of dark plastic.
Of course, this explains
His obsession with his feet
And his eventual extinction.

Noe Valley Man
Could never see
Where he was going,
And thus frequently
Stubbed his toes,
Inevitably tripping
And breaking his neck.
Further, he could never
Fully communicate
With his eyes hidden
Behind that dark plastic.