substitute: (asphalt)
We had high winds all day gusting to 60 mph. Along with the fires up in Malibu and out in Fontana, we got one of our own between Santiago Canyon and Irvine.

It's almost 9:30 pm and the temp is 76F, wind is in the 30 mph range, and there's a choking stench of smoke. The fire is spreading at least right now.

Of course the fire started at the edge of populated Orange County, where Foothill Ranch meets the real canyon country. Once again they put a suburb right at the mouth of the bellows where the fire will always blow hottest.

I'm lucky to be living where we just get the stench. Dad picked the house well.

This is the fourth or fifth time in my life that I've seen a suburban shopping mall parking lot full of tumbleweeds.
substitute: (sin)
Holy Spirit Gym Sign Guy

It seems redundant to point out just how fucked-up this is, in every way, but I'd be happy to do so if anyone wants a few paragraphs of enraged deconstruction. Taken today on Newport Boulevard in Costa Mesa, CA.
substitute: (bob)
shepherds

Contemporary Fetes Galantes and Fetes Champetres here in Dude Ranch Nation:
  • Burning Man
  • Humvees and Diesel
  • Cardio Pole-Dancing
  • Harley Culture
  • The House of Blues
  • Pimp and Ho parties
  • Eco-Tourism
  • Porn Chic
  • 35-year-old suburban homeboys
  • The Tattooed Hausfrau
  • "White Trash" chic
  • The Simple Life (tv)
  • Prison Cool (jail slang, prison rape jokes, wings on the velour tracksuit)
substitute: (me by hils)
As I was entering the hardware store yesterday there were some 12ish-year-old boys outside loitering. They looked at me and I said "Hey what's up" and a couple of them said "Hey" and then I went into the store.

One of them called out "Hey..." to me and I turned around. The kid asked "Did you used to skate?"

"Yeah," I said.

"I thought so," he said knowingly, "because of your style."

I grinned and and they grinned back and I went into the store.

I guess he was right. I was wearing Vans classics, jeans, a t-shirt, checked pendleton overshirt, and a tiny stingy brim straw hat.
substitute: (winnebago man)


WITH his vintage blue-and-red rep tie, carefully tousled hair and old metal lapel pin reading "I {heart} Grandpa," Loren Kreiss looks like a typical style-conscious 24-year-old. He collects cool things, like 2,194 "friends" on myspace.com, an antique Coke machine and 15,000 songs on his hard drive. His vintage wristwatch is a fashion accessory, not a tool.

"My watch and all my clocks are set to the wrong time," Mr. Kreiss said recently. "It's symbolic of me. I don't like to look at time."

But as the scion of Kreiss, his family's California-based furniture business, Mr. Kreiss (pronounced to rhyme with nice) sometimes has to work at being an iconoclast. He can barely contain his contradictions. For instance, his three-times-a-week maid often resets the clocks correctly, forcing Mr. Kreiss to reset them quirky again. (To avoid missing appointments, he consults his ever-present BlackBerry.)

The rest of the article is here at the NY Times.

But wait, no, I need to paste another quote: Mr. Kreiss writes his graphic novels on his BlackBerry while working out on an elliptical trainer at the gym.

Wait wait, no, here's another: He hung out with bands like Blink-182 during the height of San Diego's neo-punk scene, sang in a band and produced three records on his indie Lurid label.

Okay I have to go punch a yuppie now. Brb.
substitute: (lamers)
Suspicious lamp prompts evacuation
A Huntington Beach homeowner saw the object in a garage.

By RYAN HAMMILL
The Orange County Register

HUNTINGTON BEACH — A report of a suspicious lamp in a garage led to a neighborhood evacaution today before the Orange County sheriff’s bomb squad determined that the object was harmless.

A Mangrum Drive homeowner called Huntinton Beach police about 3 p.m. after seeing wires protruding from the base and an unfamiliar light bulb, Sgt. Dave Bunetta said.

Police officers visually inspected the lamp before calling the bomb squad and the Huntington Beach Fire Department’s hazardous material unit, Bunetta said.

Residents within 300 feet of the house were evacuated for about 3½ hours during the investigation.

The house is next door to a home day care, which also was evacuated, and two blocks from Marina High School.
substitute: (me myspace bathroom)
Current list of things broken in my house:
  • Water pipe inside slab (repaired)
  • Drywall and paint damaged by flood (repaired)
  • Vanity in bathroom destroyed
  • Carpet in hallway, living room, one bedroom destroyed
  • Thermostat for heater working only intermittently status post handyman "looking at it". (new one just installed)
  • Forced-air natural gas heater dead even when started manually; fan motor broken; entire heater needs replacement. (Heater may be as much as 40 years old.) (installed as of this moment)
  • Front door deadbolt won't close status post handyman "fixing" doorknob/lock issues.
  • Toilet flush mechanism does not stop unless you "do it right".
  • Cover on fluorescent light over kitchen counter falls off periodically with a loud bang.
  • Slab under house is "efflorescing", which will inevitably require slab replacement at some future date.
substitute: (Default)
I got an In-N-Out double-double last night and ate it in my car. I had the seat kicked back and the sunroof open, and I was looking straight at the full moon. Mars is still very close, so I could see the Red Planet with an unaided eye right there too.

It doesn't take much to send me into an astronomical trance. I think about the fact that I'm looking at another planet, and how far away and huge it has to be, just looking up at the moon. When it's full and looks oversized on a clear night, the moon is just hypnotizing. Mars even more so, since I can look directly at and see an impossibly remote place that maybe, just maybe people might visit someday. I was pleasantly dragged back into sophomoric "oh wow the universe" mode that way and spent a while there.

Years ago I noticed that living in suburban Southern California has a particular depressive effect. When you're surrounded entirely by man-made things — signs, stores, roads, parks, airplanes, houses, gas stations — the world starts to feel like an extension of the people around you and their attitudes. And here, the man-made world around us is new and cheap and tawdry and already falling apart. It's a mess of convenience stores sprinkled over beige bedroom communities, strip malls, sterile little parks, drive throughs. The scenery does not inspire. Eventually I get bad theology in my head: the world was built by money-grubbing assholes who didn't care about their work, and it's falling apart.

The cure for this is nature. I am a city boy at heart. I don't much enjoy camping, small-town rural life terrifies me, and I feel naked without a used bookstore and some good coffee down the street. But I like to visit nature. Even an hour staring out into the Pacific Ocean is a decent recharge. But really I need a day in the desert here every few months. When you're out past 29 Palms with nothing between you and some craggy mountains 30 miles away, and it's perfectly silent except for creatures you can't see, there's no 7-11 to get you down. For me it's a reminder that the world has its own vastness, its own power, its own logic and function, and that my little world of stoplights and shoe discounters and empty greasy parking lots is small and not representative.

Slumped back in my car seat staring at the moon and Mars last night, I thought "Yeah. It's time to go there." Not Mars or the moon (which would be cool also), but the desert. It would be good to shed a layer of suburban grime and doom again.

Then I sat up to get going and fries fell down my pants.

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