Road Trip: Part 2

We left at Day 3, so let's begin there.

Day 3: San Francisco

I awoke (as I described) in San Francisco, which I hadn't done before. Get up, shower, have a cup of coffee, and off to wander the streets.

The streets of San Francisco are different from other streets. They have restaurants and businesses and neat little shops. And then the next street over, instead of having row houses, also has restaurants and businesses and shops. To a Pittsburgher this was an alien configuration.

We were staying on the border of Chinatown, so naturally that's where we went first, stopping to touristly photograph all the buildings what don't look like ones we have here.

Then we made it to the bay. More coffee, a sourdough baguette, and a bit of Odis Redding on the dock of the bay, while a fat white seagull perched beside us and glared. I told Kat that I had blogged about paying $15 to cross the bridge, and she said, "No, you paid $6 and got $15 dollars change." "How is that possible?" "You gave them 21." "Oh."

We walked along the Embarcadero, intending to meet a friend of Kat's at Pier 39 and have some lunch. As we sat on another dock of the bay with another set of seagulls I started thinking about the number one googolplex, which is one followed by a googol of zeros.

A googol looks like this: 10,​000,000,000,​000,000,000,​000,000,000,​000,000,000,​ 000,000,000,​000,000,000,​000,000,000,​000,000,000,​000,000,000,​ 000,000,000,​000,000,000.

What would a googolplex look like? I started thinking that if you wrote it out it would cover the entire surface of the earth. So then I thought of a planet which an advanced civilization had dedicated entirely to writing out one googolplex. 1, 000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000....etc forever across everything. Why the hell would they do this? I thought. Well, I replied, the planet was in fact a museum: Each number represented one life. Contained within each number is the story of one being who lived somewhere during the long history of the universe.

Now Carl Sagan informs me there is a problem: There isn't enough space in the universe to write out the number one googolplex. Oh well.

After that we were at Pier 39 with touristy seafood restaurants and docks filled up with sealions, all fat and barking and stinking. That was where Kat's friend Misty met us. Misty is from Tennessee; she was staying in LA with April. All of Kat's friends are named after external conditions, and I regretted not spending time with January, Seven O'Clock, and It's Not The Heat It's The Humidity. We went to a restaurant called The Sea Lion and, having decided to eat seafood during our trip, I devoured an entire marine ecosystem.

"San Francisco, San Francisco." Evening: And it was time for some hipstertourism. The attendant in the Beat Museum asked me, "Which of the beats have you read?" Drunk but honest I said "All of them," because I couldn't think of a single writer of the period I wasn't familiar with. He looked at me skeptically. "Who wrote Revenge of the Lawn?" I asked, because I'd forgotten (& lost the copy I owned). He told me, and said "You can find him by Bukowski. Do you like Bukowski?" I told him, "Yes, I like Bukowski, but I hate admitting this, because I hate people who are like 'Duuude have you read BuKOWski!!!!!!'" He laughed and tried to sell me some Bukowski by implying that I hadn't read his novels. I haven't and don't plan to. I bought* a copy of Atrocity Exhibition and a Brautigan collection and we left.

* Actually, I left my money at the hostel. Kat bought me the books but I paid in promises.

City Lights bookstore is right around the corner from the Beat Museum (also, a block away from our hostel, which was cool and unintentional). We wandered about. I had already spent enough of Kat's money on books but I really wanted to spend more. I jumped about and nerdgasmed and had her drag me out -- To Vesuvio's, which is a bar next door whose claim to fame is Jack Kerouac Liked To Get Drunk There. There was Kerouac memorabilia all over the place. I peed myself with happy. We had a drink. I wanted more. "I have four dollars," Kat said to me. "I'll have a Budweiser!" I said to the Bartender.

I drank it.

Road Trip: Part 1

I awoke thismorning from a dream that we were on this trip. I had been piloting the spaceship in its hyperspace jumps across the galaxy because Kat -- a gigantic spider from an alien world -- was not capable of doing so. A meteor startled me and I yelled and jumped into Kat, waking both of us. And I realized then that she was, in fact, a human girl, and we were in a hostel in San Francisco.

But let's begin at the beginning.

Day One: Roseburg to Redwoods.

We started off after a morning of scrambling about on Friday from Roseburg at noon. I drove us to Grant's Pass, 53 miles south (or about 1/16th of our total so far; I spend two weeks learning how to drive a stick for just this purpose.) From Grant's Pass we took 199 to Jedidiah Smith State Park in California.

The Redwoods: Holy Freaking Crap. There is this moment where you're driving into northern California, and its gorgeous and forested and you're like "Look at those gigantic fucking trees! Those must be the REDWOODS!" But then you keep going and then you're like: Oh. No, I was wrong. THOSE are the Redwoods.

I've taken pictures of course but I can't post them yet. When I do you'll understand.

In the Redwoods I drank a delicious Winter Ale and had the worst night's sleep ever due to a faulty arrangement of bedding in the tent.

Day 2: California.

Now I get it.

This was my second time in the state, the other being a (disastrous) week in LA in January. This time, though, we saw approximately 4.88 billion miles of the state, staying always on that great highway, 101. (We tried to take 1 at one point, but found it basically impassible save, perhaps, by mule.) In any case, here are my observations about California:

1. Everyone is pretty. I mean everyone. In all the shitty roadside towns, there aren't fat American people, there are pretty people. In the cities it's impossible to look directly at other human beings without being blinded.

2. Everything is pretty. Like. Everything. Last night after 300 hours of driving we crossed the (beautiful) Golden Gate Bridge into San Francisco. A fat orange moon was hovering over the city, which was one of those paintings of a million lights in the distance. The moon didn't even look like it does anywhere else. It was four times bigger than it should have been and it wasn't even round. This after a day beginning in the Redwoods, driving through the prettiest natural scenery ever.

3. Everything normal costs 15-30 dollars. Our car is in a garage until Monday for $50. Entering the city costs $15. I believe the latter is a cool tax. People in San Francisco are more fashionable than anywhere else in the universe. I think they assess each car and figure out how much the passengers will add to or detract from the cool of the city. We got lucky at 15 bucks. The pickup truck with Oklahoma plates ahead of us had to pay 400. I think the actresses behind us were given a bag of pot and hotel vouchers.

By the time we got here, after (literally) two hours of driving and wandering about the city, looking for a place to park our car (1.2 miles from our hostel, according to Google maps) (God Bless You, Google), we were both so exhausted we could do nothing but stumble into our room and pass out. But today is a new day, and the sun is out, and Kat is giving me impatient "Finish your fucking blog already I'm hungry" looks, so I'm going to go have breakfast and explore this town. Bye for now!

Something Interesting

Just came across this website: http://www.studentloanjustice.org/

Quote:

In 1997, under intense lobbying from student loan companies, The Higher Education Act (HEA) was amended, and defaulted student loans became among the most lucrative, and easiest to collect type of debt. These amendments allow for huge penalties and fees to be attached to defaulted student loan debt, take away bankruptcy protection for student borrowers, dissallow refinancing of the debt, and also provide for draconian collection and punitive measures to be taken against student borrowers, including wage garnishment, tax garnishment, withholding of professional certifications, termination from employment , social security garnishment, and others. According to Harvard Professor Elizabeth Warren in a Wall Street Journal piece by John Hechinger , "Student-loan debt collectors have power that would make a mobster envious."

Still More Election (& A Little Bit of Reflection)

Digression: I haven't updated this blog in a while. I probably shouldn't be taking the time to update it now. But I will anyway. Reflections, for my own mind's sake.

Here's another thought on the matter...

I began blogging at the beginning of the primaries. Remember my second post? (If you're not, um, me, you probably don't.) It was written in my grandparents' basement while watching the Republican debates.

That was 11 months ago. Everything was so different.

I'd never been west of Chicago.

There was a real possibility that Mitt Fucking Romney would be the next president of the United States.

I would be leaving for Oregon in a matter of days, and I had no idea what I'd find there.

And now.

November 5th, 2008. America just elected Barack Obama president of the United States. At the end of January two things will happen: Obama will be inaugurated, and I will be out of a job. I have no idea what will happen after that.

What do I have to show for this time of this life?

I just finished revising a short story I started writing in 2005 (when I had never been west of Cleveland, written a grant application, graduated college, broken up with my first girlfriend, or placed in a psychiatric hospital.) It's creepy. I really like it.

I don't know what to do next.

More Election

I'll probably regret it in the future if I didn't have anything to say for Historic Election Day. So let's do this again.

I hate the Clinton Democrats. I hate the free trade and the it's-okay-cause-no-Americans-died wars of aggression and the attention paid to ridiculous distractions like gun control. Probably none of that will change.

That said, here's why I'm happy about the election:

Because the election of Barack Obama is an affirmation, by the country, of the fact that "real Americans" are also people like me, instead of just ignorant redneck fuckwads like Bush and Palin pretend to be.

Holy Freaking Crap!

I don't care. And I know I will hate the bastard within two years. But, but, you know--

HOLY FREAKING CRAP OBAMA WINS THAT IS AWESOME YAY!!!!!!!!!