They were shambling down Market Street this morning, spattered with blood and intermittently moaning.
It was awesome.
Showing posts with label 4Narrative. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 4Narrative. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
This isn't right
I got to work at nine. Talked to N for a few minutes. She'd been to see Prince Caspian this weekend, and I offered to lend her my copy of The Golden Compass. Then I went to grapple with the USITC's bad excuse for a search function.
Around 9:30 or so, C came in, set her stuff down, and went right to K's office and shut the door. They were in there a while. When they came out C was crying and K looked like she was about to start. K asked us to gather round. Then she told us all that Mariana had died this weekend in a car accident. Jaws dropped. The only sound was C sobbing.
K went down the hall to spread the bad news. The rest of us went back to our desks and stared blankly at nothing. C told us that Mariana's husband had asked her to tell K and the rest of us, because he couldn't face it. Mariana had gone down to LA this weekend as a favor to a friend. The friend wanted company driving back, or some such. On the way back, near Kettleman City, someone came across the median at them. Both Mariana and her friend were pronounced at the scene. It can't have hurt for long, I guess.
We drifted about the office, no one knowing what to do or say. All I could think of was, "this is a mistake," and that didn't seem helpful. I wasn't especially close to Mariana. We didn't have interests in common. But you know how they always say, "everybody liked her"? In this case it's true. Everyone did like her. She was generally cheerful, reliably pleasant. She was kind to everyone who crossed her path. She was quite good at her job. Sometimes she'd stop at my desk to check out the latest pictures of "Jack-Jack." She and her husband were putting off having kids; she wanted to go home to Brazil to raise their children, I think he wanted to stay here near his family. She spoke three languages I know for sure, and probably at least two more.
About eleven, I couldn't take the sound of crying any more and went to go look at the ocean.
I just keep thinking:
This isn't right. There must be some kind of mistake. She wasn't hurting anyone.
Randomness is so fucking pointless.
Around 9:30 or so, C came in, set her stuff down, and went right to K's office and shut the door. They were in there a while. When they came out C was crying and K looked like she was about to start. K asked us to gather round. Then she told us all that Mariana had died this weekend in a car accident. Jaws dropped. The only sound was C sobbing.
K went down the hall to spread the bad news. The rest of us went back to our desks and stared blankly at nothing. C told us that Mariana's husband had asked her to tell K and the rest of us, because he couldn't face it. Mariana had gone down to LA this weekend as a favor to a friend. The friend wanted company driving back, or some such. On the way back, near Kettleman City, someone came across the median at them. Both Mariana and her friend were pronounced at the scene. It can't have hurt for long, I guess.
We drifted about the office, no one knowing what to do or say. All I could think of was, "this is a mistake," and that didn't seem helpful. I wasn't especially close to Mariana. We didn't have interests in common. But you know how they always say, "everybody liked her"? In this case it's true. Everyone did like her. She was generally cheerful, reliably pleasant. She was kind to everyone who crossed her path. She was quite good at her job. Sometimes she'd stop at my desk to check out the latest pictures of "Jack-Jack." She and her husband were putting off having kids; she wanted to go home to Brazil to raise their children, I think he wanted to stay here near his family. She spoke three languages I know for sure, and probably at least two more.
About eleven, I couldn't take the sound of crying any more and went to go look at the ocean.
I just keep thinking:
This isn't right. There must be some kind of mistake. She wasn't hurting anyone.
Randomness is so fucking pointless.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Physics in action
Got myself one of those microwaveable bowl thingies for lunch. As bowls often are, it was round. I added water and put it in the microwave. Because the receptionist (who gets stuck cleaning out the microwave, even though it's not in her job description) wants us to use this plastic half-dome as a splash guard, I put the plastic half-dome on top of the bowl. The half-dome was resting on the bowl, and there was about a half inch gap between the edges of the half-dome and the spinner in the microwave. Anybody want to guess the outcome?
Yes, indeed! After eight minutes, the half-dome was resting on the spinner, the bowl was suctioned to the inside of the half-dome, and there was about a half inch gap between the bottom of the bowl and the spinner in the microwave. And! the plastic bowl had made itself into a smaller plastic bowl. 'twas a cool demonstration of the interaction of pressure and temperature.
Except the part about trying to prise my (boiling) lunch from its pressure-locked prison. I went with sliding the bowl toward the edge of the half-dome until the seal broke. I'm now thinking that sticking the whole thing under a cold water tap would have been a more elegant solution.
Today's earrings: scarabs
Bedtime reading: Through Elegant Eyes, R.A. Lafferty
Yes, indeed! After eight minutes, the half-dome was resting on the spinner, the bowl was suctioned to the inside of the half-dome, and there was about a half inch gap between the bottom of the bowl and the spinner in the microwave. And! the plastic bowl had made itself into a smaller plastic bowl. 'twas a cool demonstration of the interaction of pressure and temperature.
Except the part about trying to prise my (boiling) lunch from its pressure-locked prison. I went with sliding the bowl toward the edge of the half-dome until the seal broke. I'm now thinking that sticking the whole thing under a cold water tap would have been a more elegant solution.
Today's earrings: scarabs
Bedtime reading: Through Elegant Eyes, R.A. Lafferty
Sunday, November 18, 2007
It was foggy this morning
On my way to the bus stop this morning I heard yelling. Crossing the street, I saw that a guy was yelling at a little old lady with a cane. (I see her with her husband(?) at that stop pretty often. I don't think they speak any English.) She was trying to pretend the yelly guy wasn't there, her husband was trying to shoo him off, and the guy kept yelling that she was in his way, he was trying to get somewhere, don't get in his way. Then he knocked her down.
He just pushed her over and walked away.
I didn't know what to do. What I did was go over to her and ask if she was ok, which didn't help much. I stayed with her while her husband tried to round up some help from the dry cleaner's shop, but they were too late to do anything besides commiserate. I helped her husband get her back on her feet, and one of the guys from the dry cleaner walked them home.
The bus came, and I went off to see the Dancing Square.
It's an adorable house. Hardwood floors through most of it, and lots of cute period detail. I like the fireplace even better now that I've seen it. (I'm the only one.) I have never seen so many kluges in 3-d format. SO many moving parts - a swing-out spice rack, freestanding shelves in every cabinet, drawers bolted to the bottom of all the flat surfaces... I suspect they were trying to echo the swinging cauldron in the fireplace and the flappy mirror wings in the bathroom. (As with the fireplace, the only one who loves the flappy mirror wings is me.)
Carpets were cast aside. Rooms were redesigned. Color schemes were chosen. Lunch was had. Then we all went home to pack.
A little old lady. With a cane, fercrissake.
Today's earrings: frogs, coins
Bedtime reading: Through Elegant Eyes, R.A. Lafferty
He just pushed her over and walked away.
I didn't know what to do. What I did was go over to her and ask if she was ok, which didn't help much. I stayed with her while her husband tried to round up some help from the dry cleaner's shop, but they were too late to do anything besides commiserate. I helped her husband get her back on her feet, and one of the guys from the dry cleaner walked them home.
The bus came, and I went off to see the Dancing Square.
It's an adorable house. Hardwood floors through most of it, and lots of cute period detail. I like the fireplace even better now that I've seen it. (I'm the only one.) I have never seen so many kluges in 3-d format. SO many moving parts - a swing-out spice rack, freestanding shelves in every cabinet, drawers bolted to the bottom of all the flat surfaces... I suspect they were trying to echo the swinging cauldron in the fireplace and the flappy mirror wings in the bathroom. (As with the fireplace, the only one who loves the flappy mirror wings is me.)
Carpets were cast aside. Rooms were redesigned. Color schemes were chosen. Lunch was had. Then we all went home to pack.
A little old lady. With a cane, fercrissake.
Today's earrings: frogs, coins
Bedtime reading: Through Elegant Eyes, R.A. Lafferty
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Jury Duty, 2005
A blast from the past, by popular demand:
The setting: one weekday last June, at about 2 in the afternoon, at the corner of 46th & Judah.
The action: sitting at the bus stop waiting for the southbound 18 bus is a young woman with her baby in a sling carrier. Up walks an old guy with a cane and a bunch of grocery bags. He sits down near her and gushes over the baby. Then another old guy walks up and greets Woman w/Baby by name. We’ll call him “Scary Drunk.” He’d spent the morning in the park, drinking either a six-pack or a twelve pack, and there may or may not have been some vodka, too. Woman w/Baby & Scary Drunk have known each other for years, it seems.
Accounts vary, at this point, but Scary Drunk seems to have decided that Cane Guy was bothering Woman w/Baby. Words were exchanged, and then Woman w/Baby got up and walked Scary Drunk out of the bus shelter, where they stood talking.
The bus finally comes around the corner at Lincoln onto 46th, and everyone starts collecting their things and generally rustling about, as people do when they see the bus coming. Cane Guy claims that at this point, Scary Drunk was telling Woman w/Baby that she’d ruined her life by having a kid so young (she’s twenty). So Cane Guy butts in to tell Woman w/Baby again how precious babies are. Scary Drunk tells him to butt out. More, and uglier, words. Scary Drunk makes scary drunken threats. Cane Guy pulls a sword out of the cane and points it at Scary Drunk. Scary Drunk tries to kick it out of his hand, but, being drunk, misses. Cane Guy goes around Scary Drunk, pointing the sword at him all the while, and then Cane Guy gets on the bus. The bus driver tells him to put the sword away.
Scary Drunk gets on the bus right behind Cane Guy. Cane Guy sees Scary Drunk getting on and pulls another knife from a belt sheath. Scary Drunk gets as far as the fare box at the top of the stairs when Cane Guy tries to stick him in the side with the knife. He's not getting much penetration, though, so he switches to an overhand motion, and slices Scary Drunk through the ear, the neck, and the shoulder. At some point, Scary Drunk also picked up a defensive wound on his forearm. Scary Drunk just stands there for a minute as Cane Guy backs off. Woman w/Baby, who was right behind Scary Drunk on the bus stairs, encourages Scary Drunk off the bus and gets him to lie down at the bus stop until the ambulance arrived. (Net injuries were a lot of blood, a few cuts, and a partially collapsed lung.) Bus driver tells Cane Guy that the police have been called & tells him to get off the bus. Other passengers follow Cane Guy off the bus, then follow him home, & point out the apartment to the police.
Cane Guy was claiming self defense. Sadly for him, the bus was equipped with four cameras and a microphone. We, the jury, noted the long list of ways Cane Guy had to get out of the situation that didn’t involve putting Scary Drunk in the hospital, and convicted Cane Guy of assault and battery.
The setting: one weekday last June, at about 2 in the afternoon, at the corner of 46th & Judah.
The action: sitting at the bus stop waiting for the southbound 18 bus is a young woman with her baby in a sling carrier. Up walks an old guy with a cane and a bunch of grocery bags. He sits down near her and gushes over the baby. Then another old guy walks up and greets Woman w/Baby by name. We’ll call him “Scary Drunk.” He’d spent the morning in the park, drinking either a six-pack or a twelve pack, and there may or may not have been some vodka, too. Woman w/Baby & Scary Drunk have known each other for years, it seems.
Accounts vary, at this point, but Scary Drunk seems to have decided that Cane Guy was bothering Woman w/Baby. Words were exchanged, and then Woman w/Baby got up and walked Scary Drunk out of the bus shelter, where they stood talking.
The bus finally comes around the corner at Lincoln onto 46th, and everyone starts collecting their things and generally rustling about, as people do when they see the bus coming. Cane Guy claims that at this point, Scary Drunk was telling Woman w/Baby that she’d ruined her life by having a kid so young (she’s twenty). So Cane Guy butts in to tell Woman w/Baby again how precious babies are. Scary Drunk tells him to butt out. More, and uglier, words. Scary Drunk makes scary drunken threats. Cane Guy pulls a sword out of the cane and points it at Scary Drunk. Scary Drunk tries to kick it out of his hand, but, being drunk, misses. Cane Guy goes around Scary Drunk, pointing the sword at him all the while, and then Cane Guy gets on the bus. The bus driver tells him to put the sword away.
Scary Drunk gets on the bus right behind Cane Guy. Cane Guy sees Scary Drunk getting on and pulls another knife from a belt sheath. Scary Drunk gets as far as the fare box at the top of the stairs when Cane Guy tries to stick him in the side with the knife. He's not getting much penetration, though, so he switches to an overhand motion, and slices Scary Drunk through the ear, the neck, and the shoulder. At some point, Scary Drunk also picked up a defensive wound on his forearm. Scary Drunk just stands there for a minute as Cane Guy backs off. Woman w/Baby, who was right behind Scary Drunk on the bus stairs, encourages Scary Drunk off the bus and gets him to lie down at the bus stop until the ambulance arrived. (Net injuries were a lot of blood, a few cuts, and a partially collapsed lung.) Bus driver tells Cane Guy that the police have been called & tells him to get off the bus. Other passengers follow Cane Guy off the bus, then follow him home, & point out the apartment to the police.
Cane Guy was claiming self defense. Sadly for him, the bus was equipped with four cameras and a microphone. We, the jury, noted the long list of ways Cane Guy had to get out of the situation that didn’t involve putting Scary Drunk in the hospital, and convicted Cane Guy of assault and battery.
Monday, June 4, 2007
Rosewood
So I'm in Stacey's, checking to see if Matt Ruff has a new book out (no) when a guy in a wheelchair speeds by and stops at the reference desk. Dude is mad. He's bitching loudly about the homeless guy. The staff at the reference desk calls for the manager.
(The homeless guy, for those of you who aren't evening regulars at Stacey's, is there every evening. The management at Stacey's lets him keep his cart in a storage closet near the front of the store.)
I've passed up that Tanith Lee I keep passing up and moved on to looking for new titles by Margaret Maron & Nancy Martin (no), and the manager is trying to placate the guy in the wheelchair. Somehow they ended up right next to the mystery section. He's offering to help the guy in the wheelchair get any title he likes. The guy in the wheelchair is talking loudly about how the homeless guy is in the way and junking up the place.
(The homeless guy can be in the way if you want to get a look at the Dan Brown or Agatha Christie at the same time he's pulling his stuff out. And he's obviously a homeless guy, and unaesthetic. I'm not convinced it's a wise business decision to let the guy store his things there - but it's a decision they've long since made.)
The manager is trying to tell the guy in the wheelchair that the homeless guy has been coming in for years, and... I don't know where he was going with that, because the guy in the wheelchair interrupted him to say that he doesn't care; he will be filing suit against Stacey's under the ADA. The manager says he's sorry to hear that. The guy in the wheelchair says again that he's filing suit under the ADA. The manager says again he's sorry to hear that, apologizes that wheelchair guy feels inconvenienced... and walks away. Wheelchair guy is totally sputtering. I brush past him into the next alcove to check whether there's a new Donna Andrews (no), and there's the homeless guy, kinda in the way. I didn't talk to the homeless guy (I never do; I have class issues), but y'know, I suspect that if asked, he'd move his stuff out of my way.
Dude would rather cause a scene and threaten a lawsuit than talk to a homeless guy. I shake my head.
Today's earrings: roses, wood rounds
Bedtime reading: Foundation, Isaac Asimov
(The homeless guy, for those of you who aren't evening regulars at Stacey's, is there every evening. The management at Stacey's lets him keep his cart in a storage closet near the front of the store.)
I've passed up that Tanith Lee I keep passing up and moved on to looking for new titles by Margaret Maron & Nancy Martin (no), and the manager is trying to placate the guy in the wheelchair. Somehow they ended up right next to the mystery section. He's offering to help the guy in the wheelchair get any title he likes. The guy in the wheelchair is talking loudly about how the homeless guy is in the way and junking up the place.
(The homeless guy can be in the way if you want to get a look at the Dan Brown or Agatha Christie at the same time he's pulling his stuff out. And he's obviously a homeless guy, and unaesthetic. I'm not convinced it's a wise business decision to let the guy store his things there - but it's a decision they've long since made.)
The manager is trying to tell the guy in the wheelchair that the homeless guy has been coming in for years, and... I don't know where he was going with that, because the guy in the wheelchair interrupted him to say that he doesn't care; he will be filing suit against Stacey's under the ADA. The manager says he's sorry to hear that. The guy in the wheelchair says again that he's filing suit under the ADA. The manager says again he's sorry to hear that, apologizes that wheelchair guy feels inconvenienced... and walks away. Wheelchair guy is totally sputtering. I brush past him into the next alcove to check whether there's a new Donna Andrews (no), and there's the homeless guy, kinda in the way. I didn't talk to the homeless guy (I never do; I have class issues), but y'know, I suspect that if asked, he'd move his stuff out of my way.
Dude would rather cause a scene and threaten a lawsuit than talk to a homeless guy. I shake my head.
Today's earrings: roses, wood rounds
Bedtime reading: Foundation, Isaac Asimov
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