Monday, November 24, 2008

Fried Chicken Wonderland

OK how do I begin this...well... I can start by saying that I don't quite understand the logic in what I am about to relay. Here's what I saw;

Setting: Nov. 24th 2008, Approx; 1:55pm; Overcast, cool; 22 Fillmore toward Mission.

Fairly relaxed atmosphere on the bus. The usual afternoon crowd. Some older folks in the front. A few kids cutting school in the back, one or two crazies having conversations with their hands , other people etc. I find a seat toward the back facing back.

Then I smell fried chicken. Who has fried chicken?

Across from me and to the right this lady had with her a box of Popeye's take out. Ok fine. She has lunch. Good. But then she proceeds to open her Happy-Popeye-Meal and eat as if she's at her dining room table. Smearing catchup on the chicken leg, crispy, greasy, chewing the fleshy carcass, fingers grabbing, mouth wide shoving the head of the bone in making sure she gets every last piece of cartilage, every vein. Ignores the biscuit and goes for the oher leg... or was it a wing?

Anyway, I know we get hungry and I wouldn't want anyone to starve (starving being highly unprobable) and it's not that seeing this horrifying display of fried chicken eating isn't disturbing, but my real question is, what is so desireable about indulging in (probably) your favorite meal in a large moving vehicle, in front of twenty or so strangers smelling you, staring at you chew and chew and swallow and bite and knaw and suck pieces that get stuck between your teeth? Do you like that? Do you like that your innocent bite or two turned into a full on public eating performance?

Just wondering.

Saturday, November 22, 2008

Ear Man on BART

Couldn't get part 1 to load...

Horse Monsters.

View of the horse monsters traveling on BART. I love them.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Love/Hate Letter to Mr. Bus.

Dear Mr. Bus,

I have been holding a few things in lately and I feel the need to express them, because I sense that our realationship is unhealthy and we or one of us needs help. Ok, I'm frustrated and here's why: You're never there when I really need you. I am forced to chase after you all the time to get you to stop. You ignore me and leave me out in the cold at times when its crucial to have your company. This has become ongoing and difficult to deal with on a daily basis, but, I have to admit ... I'm dependent on you, even when you don't pay attention to me I keep coming back to you, needing you ... I'm falling apart because of this. It stresses me out to no end and there you are picking up on other men and women! But why do I love you so? When you do let me in, you give me the world. You help me to open my eyes to the colors of life outside and in. You show me your inner angels and demons. But unless something changes, this relationship is not going to work. I have things I need to get done and you taking your time, being choosy about when you will give me the time of day kills me. So if you don't see me one day then... well.... you'll know why. I've gone and gotten me a bike! Sorry I said that. Ok I'm sorry. I had to get this off my chest though. See you later (if you want).

Your Girl.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

A Few Conversations Caught.

>I waited so long I began to wonder if this was really an actual bus stop.

+ Did you take out the bio-bag?
* Yeah, it was all full you know with ...
+ uh huh
* ... food and decompostables and just stuffed so much it was like ... an animal.

-The buses are comin' more often lately. I even see the 24 come regularly lately!
=Wow, 'cause the 24 usually never comes. The 24 is like a ghost bus.
-He he, you got that right!!

Sunday, November 9, 2008

This Tortures Me.

As bad as finding Muni transfers in a puddle, seeing multiples behind a locked gate. There's no way in - I tried....

Sticky Mess.

I caught the right bus today. I had just missed the 22. The next one came 6 minutes later. It pulled up, I stepped up and started walking towards the back. Suddenly a flashback came over me ~

`````<<<`````` (flashback symbols) ```\\\\\<<<<<\\\\\\```\`\`\` (add sound effect)`\`\`\`\\ `````\`\<<<<<<<`\\`\`\`\\\\\\\\`````````\\\`\\`\`\`\`\`\`\``\`\\\\\\\`\``\````\`\`<<<\`\`\<<<<<\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\```````````\\\\\\\\<<<<<<<\\\\\\`\`\\`\`\`\`<< style="font-weight: bold;" size="4">"I smell pancakes!!" I thought. Right at that moment I nearly slipped and fell into a pool of maple syrup that covered the floor of the bus and had already rolled, dripped and smeared across the entire back section like an abstract drip painting. I didn't fall. Nobody fell, but we all could have easily been covered in a sticky slimy mess. Many comments were made and lots of sticky shoes came off of the bus that day. I let it go at the time and went about my business.

Ok fast forward///////////(FF symbols - sound effect etc. as you wish) ///////////////

>>>>>>>>> Me again, inside the back of the 22, Sunday, Nov. 9th approximately 11:30am. I am all of a sudden stepping the the same exact maple mess. Still sticky the drippy mess had hardened just enough. "This is awesome." I thought, "What are the chances that I would get on this same bus and come to find that in one week this mess had not even been attempted to be cleaned up! I have got to document this."

Even though this is not very amusing still this event made me wonder how often these buses do get a good scrub down. ..... check it out:

On the way home after 4 hours of work today I caught THE VERY SAME BUS, stickiness and all! What a day!

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

Monday, November 3, 2008

Gordie and Me.

Today I met a fellow at the Misson and 16th St. bus stop waiting for the 22. He was older, a little slow in speech and must have been from the streets by his dress and smell. He wore a smile despite the weather and told me his name was Gordie (spelling?). The most memorable moments of our conversation went like this:

Gordie - "Good people are good. Nature is good. The Birds ... feed 'em (gestures throwing seeds on the ground) and it comes back."

me - "What comes back?"

Gordie - "All goodness comes back.

You're good, talking to me.
I'm good, talking to you,
and ... well ...

I am ... well ... I don't really know what I am."

(we pause as he looks down as if trying to solve himself)

me - "I don't think anyone really knows what they are."