A Mad Biker's Ongoing Tale

Friday, October 26, 2001

I've completed my hostel stay in San Francisco. In fact, I've completed my stay in San Francisco, the fabled City by the Bay, period. Or maybe I'd be better off using an ellipsis, which mean I've completed my stay in San Francisco at least for the moment. I tried... Lord knows I tried. But I've left The City to return to the mountains, and now that I'm here I can't imagine what I'd been thinking. Good God, what had gotten into me? Gee, it's good to be back home again.

I asked my cousin, a native and remorseful reseeded Californian expatriot, now that I've left the urban strains of SF for the sub-artic hinterlands if I could return to calling San Francisco by the ever-more convient tagname "Frisco." "No!" she stated emphataically. I tired to reason with her but she wouldn't budge an inch. There's just no pleasing some people. You 'Friscans can sure be a surly bunch. (And she's never even lived in The City. Go figure.)

I started this piece by memoralizing my hostel stay. And that is what I mean the gist of the following to be..... so without further ado: If ya'll are going to stay in 'Fris...... er, The City at inexpensive but classy digs, you'll want to go hostel route. I stayed one night in Hosteling International's (HI.... "hi". Geeze. Clever, no?) Union Square Hostel in addition to spending a week ushering myself back and forth while my Polish Queen reside therein, and I can tell you that the clerks there are a surly bunch. (My agile mind is beginning to detect a pattern here.) You couldn't bribe them to part with a sincere smile for all the lobster on the Wharf. And I'm not talking about the cold, stiff kind they try to get rid of at the end of the day, neither. I mean the good stuff.

Now the Fisherman's Wharf hostel at Fort Mason, those were good people. Happy people. Decent People. People with personalities. People with names. You know, the best kind. Like Rita and Christina and Mac and Justa and oh, the mind reels...... Much nicer environment, too. Which goes far in explaining the aforementioned surliness of the aforementioned hostile hostelers.

Justa's a parttime DJ, Mac has a band, Rita takes long rides on her motorbike lookin' for a crazy little thing called love. Sandrine would just like to sleep later in the morning. Come to think of it, I think Justa would too. And Christina. Hey, so would I. But this is the way we gotta roll, yaknowmean? Mac also is the facility's cook and though he's damn good with the omniscent vegetable-rice-and-curry dish, I was dying for him to strut his stuff with other culinary delights. Ah well, you can't have it all.

Then there's Shawn. Manager extraordinaire, she posted an advert on the main bulletin board asking for applicants. The bait? Bay shrimp... not the miniscule tempters that whet your appetite one taste bud at a time, the kind that restaurants usually serve deep-fried and breaded 'cause there just ain't eough there to make an impression on even a bulemic, but the jumbo variety to satisfy even the heartiest of appetites. Yeah, it was minimum wage....... but every employee got their own room, gratis, as part of the package. That's a good 700 a month right there, which packes about another 6 bucks an hour (before taxes) onto the weekly tab. And they got to meet and host people from around the world. Geeze, what could be finer for a ramblin' man with a book to write in search of comfortable and inspirational digs such as myself? Binge and purge, binge and purge, all week long.

But Shawn wouldn't talk to me. And I think that was the problem. I insisted on talking to her, which I guess gave her the impression that I was a little too forward. Me? Forward? Would anyone that knows me well claim such a scandulous thing?

Huh? What's that you say? You would? Oh...........

Hey, that east coast attitude has kept me in good stay for a long, long time. It did well for me on the meaner-by-the-day streets of the cold, cold city. (Okay, so there's a very unseasonable heatwave going on down there, but I'm speaking metaphorically people. Work with me here.) But occassionally it backfires. (Though I gotta wonder how it would have done me down at the Union Square locale.) Why, one time I asked to speak to her and SHE WAS STANDING RIGHT THERE while one of her employees twisted his tongue way back around his tonsils and around his uvula and said she wasn't around. Geeze..... the only good thing that came from that exchange was I got to type the word "uvula". Hee, that was fun... think I'll do it again. Uvula. Uvula. Hee hee.

I got acquainted with a small legion (that's possible, right? A "small" legion?) of excited and excitable globetrotters. It was grand. Except for the night a wild-eyed vertically-challenged long-haired denizen of the dark came in with his three giggling girls pulling up his rear. I certainly have nothing against long-hairs, 'cause I used to be one myself 'til I embarked on this mad trek of mine. (Nine weeks of sweat-soaked ass-length headhair? No thanks.) It was more the wild-eyed thing he had going on, the unshakeable feeling that this was a man who lived under constant siege in his own little mind, popping his middle at the world everytime he could stop for a moment and catch his breath.

Early the next morning after he arrived I had to rise at 3:30 to ready myself for my airport shuttle run, working for wages and turning the pages. Even kings have to get down in the dust sometimes, ya know? That's often what makes for a good regent. But I digress. My new bunkie had come in with his foreign honeys a few hours earlier and hung his leather vest over the same bedhook that held my bola tie. I fumbled for the tie in the dark and the next thing I know Big Little Man hops up on his knees and cries (my apologies to the more sensitive eyes in the crowd, but I'm just quoting here) "WHAT THE HELL YOU DOING MOTHERFUCKER?" and cold-cocked me on the head.

Well, not "cold"-cocked exactly. It was more tepid, lukewarm. A bitch-slap really. It woulda been funny except for the fact that this dimunitive-in-body-and-spirit punk just assaulted me. I shone my flashlight in his eyes, its luminescence poised upon him like a vengeful er...... wraith (don't mess with me, man! Grrrrr.). Then I pointed out my tie to him, hanging innocently on its hook, a mislayed chip on his late-night shoulder, and demanded his apology. God, did I want to just drop him then and there.

He did manage an apology, I informed management of what had just transpired, and the late-night clerk took it from there, interviewing us both. Very gutsy and admirable for a gal that was smaller than my assailant. She rocks, let me tell you. Our little friend went on about how he had asked me to stop before he ended up taking more drastic action. Uh-huh. Which caused me to almost lay him out there by the front desk, so he could have enjoyed a stellar view of the remarkably clean hostel ceiling. That probably wasn't the pc way for me to make the right impression on the nightclerk, huh? Told you I shoulda rocked him back to sleep when he was still kneeling in his undies.

The next night when he and his entourage strolled back into the hostel I put my arm on his shoulder and greeted him merrily. He launched into a long explanation about this dream he had had that involved him behind the wheel of his van, stopped at a 'Frisco red light (Yeah, I know. So sue me already) where "a black man" came up to him and asked for an envelope. And while our hero labored happily to respond, the envelope-seeking streetwalker stuck his hand in the van's open window and reached for the dashboard. That's where I came in. In his dream our hero went for his knife then woke up to slap the bitch out of me. I mean, PLLLLEEEASE! Talk to my stiff and steady flashlight, mister man.

Whatevaaaaaaaah. None of the other bunkies in our room took kindly to him and his harem either. They came in late and giggled themselves to sleep, then woke early to shout and giggle some more. He wasn't missed. He claimed to have started his own tour business just this past summer and that this was one of his inagural runs. He said he was making a fortune. Now if he only could shake the portrait he painted of a down-and-out loser playing faux Svengali to a gaggle of easily-influenced skirts, he'd have his own sitcom. No, wait. He already HAS his own sitcom. He also said he awoke that fateful night, open palm at the ready, to defend "Dave's" stuff. Too bad he couldn't remember that when I introduced myself to him the night before I had told him that my name was "Mark." I only go by "Dave" when I'm in Missouri.

Well. I'm gonna go. Don't wanna be accused of rambling again. Then again, that might make for one of those good prototypical county-type songs. You know, the kind they play with a fiddle in the band. And maybe a wailing harmonica. Maybe I can can get Mac the cook the play it for me. See ya later, sports fans.

posted by mark 8:05 AM

Don't despair, Still is here. So I had ranted a bit... you would too if you were left hangin' (well, okay, so maybe I supplied the rope) in the world's second most expensive city in search of both gainful employment and shelter. But times, they are a-changin'.

posted by mark 6:02 AM

Friday, October 12, 2001

C'mon guys......so I went on a little bit last time out; is that any reason to deep-freeze me? My tears have flowed unabated at the total lack of response on my most recent essay; why, Ive been kicked out of three libraries this week for short-circuiting their keyboards. Ah well, the strong shall survive. Seriously, though, I would like a feedback or two to keep those creative juices flowing (see what damage is wrought by not having an editor?). Besides, several of YOU are mentioned therein. You'll just have to read on, effendi, to find out exactly who.... (heh,heh)

In the meantime, today I'll keep it brief (alright, alright already!! Stop cheering!). The 16th will mark a month since I completed my ride; yesterday was a month since the terrorists attacks. Try as I might, these two events will be forever linked in my mind and soul.

To top it all off I am in the midst of falling deeply, eternally, inexorably in love. PLUS I was standing on the Ocean Beach shorleine yesterday, locked in a passionate embrace with my Polish Queen, when the tide rolled in and soaked us halfway up to our knees! I mean really now - ocean tides lapping against the shore! How rare of an occurence was that??? Now I have to bear the soggy cross of my salt-laden shoes, my tootsies freezing in here while I wait for the fabric to dry. ARRGGHH!!

Too many ostensibly distant things happening at once here. How does one find and possibly more importantly, keep love, in the midst of a war? Our nation is on "high alert". Terrorirst attacks may come at any time; damn, I'm in U-Cal Berkley right now for crying out loud! If I press the right combination of keys on this fershlinger machine a bomb might take us all out!

But through it all there is a sense of calm in my heart. As the Lakota are wont to say (and the Klingons many centuries later) "Today is a Good Day to Die." I'm ready, I've made peace with myself and my God and my neighbor. (Well except maybe the D-man, but hey, shit happens). I no longer feel the need to greet everyone I meet with a hearty "Heigh-O, Silver" and the driving need to boast of my accomplishments. It's settled, I've settled. I biked the country. It's no longer a matter of being caught in that prolonged 9 week moment and reacting to it with crazed pride, or having just dismounted and looking back at my trek with manic incredultiy. I've done it, it's part of me. It can't be taken away.

And God, how I've changed. It's always problematic to actually tell people that. But I have. I think and feel and act in manners I would never before have done. Manners I've long considered, mind you, but never had the courage or will to actually commit. There have two major events in my life which have forever changed me. The first was when I was 25 and lived and hiked Grand Canyon. The other was this ride and it's poerty-in-motion corallary in Burning Man.

My cousin made the salient point that this ride is precisely what has been driving my reaction to the War, that I was isolated on mountain roads when the attacks happened. I had just had my faith in America restored and renewed to a degree never before even approached. And all that leaves me here. Now. In love and praying for the best, expecting it, knowing I will rise to any occassion. Even in my soggy shoes.

But damn,my feet are cold! Kinda makes me wish I was back in New Jersey, where six other pair of footwear await me. Warm baths and a cozy wood stove and sensuous hot chocolate. I mean, maybe that's exactly what I'll do. My queen's flying back to Poland for a spell, I am homeless and jobless, and I'd get back in time to fully bathe in the splendor of the cloorful northeastern autumns. Maybe that's exactly what I'll do.......

....Nahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Keep smiling,
-marcos

posted by mark 10:04 PM

Friday, October 05, 2001

Okay, here’s what I’ve settled upon: Some days I just can’t sit down and start hammering it out. My book, I mean. Because it’s not just a matter of letting the words flow, it’s also reconstructing past events and finding the proper text to express not only what was happening and what I and others were feeling, but filtering it all through the lens of the present. When this happens I need some forum to just let loose, where the transfer of thoughts to paper (even the electronic one) is relatively quick and painless. When my muse, lascivious tart that she is, is whispering sweet-somethings into someone’s else’s fortunate ears, I need to find my magic elsewhere to get mah mojo workin’!

So to work my way into that hallowed place today, let’s talk Tailban for awhile shall we? Don’t groan, please. I know it seems like everyone but the Ghost of Marley has been weighing in with their lofty thoughts on the subject, and these have ranged from considered to outrageous to mostly plain ol’ boring…. Rote button-pushing as trite and sentimental as the movie-of-the-week. Hey, I don’t purport to be able to say anything even mildly original about this mess. But I may be able to state it in a semi-original manner. Here goes.

It’s going to happen again. Let’s get that out of the way first. Maybe not today, maybe not next month. Maybe not for years. But it will happen. The world can rid itself of large terrorist organizations but there will always be scumbags out there who will firmly adhere to the notion of seemingly random violence as Godspeak, a driving primeval urge to bear the sword aloft to cleave the wicked from the earth. Hell, one doesn’t even have to be mildly religious to be such a large and heavily salted nut.

But most likely it will come far earlier than we can ever think we’re prepared for it. It could come on our soil, it could come on another’s as American citizens and our allies are vacationing at hotels and resorts the world over. It could be on a bus, a train, another plane, a crowded mall, a busy intersection, or even the Liberty Bell itself, late at night and in the dead of the wicked Philadelphia Winter, just as a symbolic gesture. But this is war, which I think a lot of us are forgetting and many more of us (like myself) are trying to forget.

Look, I don’t mean to alarm. Jon Stewart, host of Comedy Central’s The Daily Show, has recently implored American newscasters to stop “scaring the pee out of us”. This is not my intention, I assure you. But as my good buddy Durg has repeatedly reminded me, we all need to maintain our vigilance. We do not need to live in fear; nay, we should not live in fear. (Okay, okay, so I started a phrase with “nay”. So sue me.) Because the job of terrorists and oppressors is to instill fear, the crippling variety which keeps us from our daily routine, from pursuing our dreams, from embracing life. May we never succumb to that!

But have a healthy respect for what can happen to us, be fully aware that in war self-styled soldiers can and will strike at any time to confound and destroy. So yeah, I guess I do mean to alarm. But in a good way, people. Stay alert. Show your friends and family that you love them. And for God’s sake, make some new friends. Go out of your way to be kind to your neighbor. While I bicycled across the nation tons of generous people, flawed souls all but anxious to demonstrate their essential good natures, put their arms around me and succored me with camaraderie, with hope. I clasped the outstretched hands of America, which were only looking for a friend. Only seeking a reason to be. All these Americans I encountered, all these people, all these human beings, realized one of the central truths of our existence: without each other, life is meaningless.

It is exactly that which is one of the saddest aspects of this tragedy – and at once our greatest triumph. I speak here of the way we have united to combat the fear, to uplift our neighbor, to embrace our solidarity. Does it take a horror of this unimaginable magnitude to bring us together? Does it take war to forge our common brotherhood in steel? Sad to say the answer appears to be “yes”; not that we weren’t brothers and sisters before September 11th, not that we weren’t kind to our neighbor before theses many deaths were caused by godless men in the name of God… but now we understand the crucial importance of affirming this truism every single day, perhaps every single moment.

It was the indisputable fact that we did this, that we did come together, that we stand so strongly now, as unmovable as the glorious Sierra Nevada or the majestic Rockies ( and believe me, I know precisely how unmovable and otherwise formidable they are!)… This, my friends, is our greatest triumph, and this will sustain us through whatever lies ahead. Because this can’t be faked, this does not hinge on pretense; the fact that we united as a people in a manner many of us had never done before, proves that our goodness, our love, our willingness to embrace our neighbor and invite him or her into our family, was always there, lurking just below the surface, just waiting for a way out.

And hell, it hasn’t been just Americans, has it? The lion’s share of the world has united behind us… a Parisian newspaper declared We Are All Americans the day after the attack; a friend of mine in India told me of the sadness and empathy which pervades her countrymen, as she choked back the tears in her own voice; Middle Eastern countries and their neighbors are allowing American planes to utilize their airspace, allowing American troops to utilize their land. NATO and the United Nations have condemned the attacks and stand solidly behind President Bush and our nation’s intent to strip terrorism of its potency, to strip terrorists of their overwhelming need to kill and maim.

Terrorism is nothing more than the act of the unapologetic bully, the one afraid to look you in the eye and tell you exactly what he thinks of you. That’s one of the most telling aspects of this whole mess to me: that bin-Laden denies all culpability, that the Tailiban can’t seem to make up their minds whether they want to tell us they know where he is or not, that this grand Voice of the People, Party of God, won’t condemn this heinous act and absolutely refuses to stop harboring agents of terror. Jesus, if they believe in their cause so deeply, then they should have the cahones to take credit for their actions! No, instead they just brainwash their own citizens into sacrificing themselves and ruining what could have been productive lives in the service of Allah, in the pursuit of true peace and brotherly love. They move in shadows and then blatantly lie about their actions and beliefs. So much for the sanctity of jihad, a holy declaration of intent and action. They’re spineless.

And did you know that Islam means “the submission of your will so that you may experience the true peace of God?” Do any of them know that?

Through all the reaction and rhetoric these past few weeks, a few voices have emerged as beacons, rallying points for us all. Andrew Coyne, of the Ontario daily National Post, makes the very salient point that this act or any like act is not justifiable. He asks, “Why must evil have a cause?” He grants that many people the world over have a legitimate gripe against the States, but this end does not justify the means. This is an act of pure evil with no rational precursor. He states “courage, properly understood, means a willingness to risk losing something you value”. What courage is there in a person willing to die and take countless others with him? He ends his piece with “We do not ask Jews to consider what they did to make the Nazis hate them. Why do we ask the same of Americans?” To him, terrorists are soulless, cowardly dogs with no rational for what they do and not a decent sinew in their body. I earnestly agree.

Lance Morrow of Time Magazine, writing earlier than Coyne, appealed to us all to remain outraged over this abominable act. He wrote that anyone who argues for peace with the terrorist and grants them the validity of their grievances against the United States is “too philosophical for decent company.” Some things are just wrong, period, and will always be wrong. They cannot be flittered away, they cannot be held up to the filter of international mores, they have no feasibility in the real world, can never be allowed to have a foothold in the popular conscious of the smallest segment of humanity.

And let’s talk of the reactions of my friends. I told you where Durg stands; does this render him a wide-eyed paranoid, eager to accuse and fight? No. One of his best friends is a Muslim Iranian; other friends include a Palestinian and a Lebanese. No blind prejudice there. Just the indomitable human spirit. I said the human spirit. Which the American spirit is founded on. That’s what our forefathers were after - all the best qualities of what it means to be a tiny speck of light, sharing some space in this spinning orb of ours. Yeah, we’ve made a lot of mistakes along the way and continue to commit a whole bunch more, but we’re getting better at this grand experiment of democracy. We’re not done yet, and no frickin’ nut job is going to take that away from us. But I digress.

Another friend wants to proffer the olive branch and lead by example. But even Christ and Mohammed were quick to condemn the truly wicked and unrepentant, aggressively and even violently making their points. Not that this friend believes in Christ or Mohammed, but my point is some souls are so dark they wouldn’t recognize an olive branch if it got shoved up their pacifistic ass. If you want to present yourself to be martyred, go join the Tailiban. Another friend criticized Bush for declaring that his is a God of love and not hate, but she believes that God encompasses the entire spectrum of emotion.

But God created us with the capacity to love and to hate; He or She is not of hate. The universe clicks along with clockwork precision, it sustains itself, grows upon itself. This is not the act of chaos; if it were the universe would be as empty and void and hapless as an Afghani wedding. It would be like living under the Tailiban. Most of humanity has an overwhelming need to be good, to create, to love. No the other way around. One who created us to hate would not grant us the option of being able to love; one who created us to love would proffer us every option. It’s reassuring to realize that most of us besotted humans strive so hard to do so well.

And another friend, an expatriated Spaniard living in Philadelphia, emailed me that she was pelted with rotten eggs as she strolled her neighborhood one afternoon. She is a remarkable woman, and she confronted her young attackers and convinced them of the error of their ways, to the point of them apologizing to her and wishing her well. But her darkish complexion and exotic looks had convinced these uneducated reactionaries she was the enemy. (Obviously, they never watched even one newscast long enough to realize that Sunni women are treated as nothing more than wartime bounty from the moment they are born.) And she’s from an area not even remotely close to the Middle East. So there’s some serious shit going down here.

That’s wrote she wrote to tell me, that Americans are getting ugly. But the sad truth of the matter is, we Americans have been ugly since we first set foot on this continent. We have often been the oppressor, we often still are. So tell me something I don’t know. But as previously stated, most of us are doing our best. Shoot, look at out government right now. The knee-jerk urge was and is to go top Afghanistan and blow them into the Stone Age. But we have been cautious, circumspect, wary of continuing a conflict that would entail the deaths and sufferings of many innocent men, women and children – on both sides. We are trying to learn from our mistakes.

And overall as I read the papers and hear the news about ordinary people acting in extraordinary and heroic proportions, I feel that most of Americans have united as Americans. As people of a common bond, a common land and language and currency and values. Certainly some of us have tremendous differences between us, but none so insurmountable as to deny our common humanity. None so unbreachable as to refute our common interests… which are, after all, inalienable rights granted to all persons…. that of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Hate crimes have occurred in this country since we were colonizers trying to gain a tenuous foothold in the New World. Crimes of passion have occurred since man first crawled from the primordial ooze, or if you like, since Cain picked up a rock and slew his brother.

But through or despite of it all, most of us have united as we have not in many, many years. As another commentator has observed, this is the first real test for our generation. In years past there were Vietnam and World Wars I and II. Now we have this. We have been prodded and we have stirred and now, hand in hand and arm in arm, we march ever forward toward our destiny. And know this: we cannot be deterred. We could have tucked tail and ran, or conversely we could have launched our planes and our missiles and rained down an unholy hell and steeped the body counts toward the heavens. To my friend I say the following with heartfelt compassion… yes, there are those who have thrown stones, cast insults, fired bullets in the vain attempt to express their impotent anger. But they are of the minority, and they grow fewer in number with each passing day. They do not represent the America or the human spirit the terrorists have tried to mock and destroy. No, they represent the terrorists themselves. And it is they we fight.

This is what bin-Laden and his ilk did not fully consider. They thought that they could inflict this pain upon us and wither our spirit. Instead it has grown exponentially as never before. In past conflicts it took many battles on many, many fronts for America to salute its mutliheritage, its melting pot, and allow its many denizens to fight side-by-side. Those days are past, we have come through the fire and now we strive to judge our fellow travelers upon this planet by the content of their hearts and not superficial aspects like the color of their skin and the region of their birth. It is time to cast all that aside and accept the individual for the individual.

Hate cannot win. It is limited in its actions and responses. Chaos cannot win, for as Jon Stewart said, chaos cannot sustain itself. Atrophy and anarchy cannot win, for they collapse upon themselves. All of the above spiral downward until there is nothing left but decay. Without the twin foundations of respect and fidelity, societies can and have crumbled.

In the end we can look no further than ourselves for the will we need to survive. We must search our hearts and ask ourselves why we exist. On this planet. At this moment in time. In this country. In this neighborhood. We must ask ourselves and we must find an answer. And if we are honest with ourselves we will all find that our answers are similar, perhaps hauntingly so. We exist…. here, now…. to make life just a little bit better. Not better for just ourselves and our offspring, but for all.

The terrorists who attacked us September 11th, 2001, tried in vain to prove how dispirited and hypocritical we are. But they were wrong. They messed with the American dream, took our flag and seared it in an inferno of their own twisted creation. And in response a million other flags alighted across the nation. Across the world. As I write right now from a 2nd story deck, I stare across the street and see four flags flying from four porches. Two more flag decals are pasted onto window panes. We are unassailable.

They fly from rooftops and automobile antennas, they are glued onto windshields and schoolbooks, they are embroidered onto jackets and bicycle shorts, they are reflected in every single pair of eyes you will see today and tomorrow and every day you are alive for the remainder of your lives. The flag is embedded in your heart and it does not merely say, “America the beautiful, graced by God.” It says “Humanity the sublime, blessed by the Almighty.” America will not permit our common humanity to be besmirched by fools, great or small.

Bin-Laden will fall. State-sponsored terrorism will fall. Hate will loose. Right will prevail. This is our answer, the one we search for from the moment we can conceive a conscious thought. This is why we are here. To take this grand experiment of humanity and move it ever further. To prove that right and justice and love will, must, prevail. We are at war… but it is with that very utterance we come to fully realize the truth of our being. We are at war with hatred, and shall always remain thus.

And we shall overcome. Though it is an oft-used phrase, believe in it as surely as you believe in the air which fills your lungs. We shall overcome.

posted by mark 2:51 AM