It is important to clear up the confusion about the missing posts from the past several months. I regret this error even though it is likely to recur.
It is very true that these missing posts are indeed missing. This is due, in part, to the fact that the messages that you do not see were never posted. Another primary reason for the missing status is that they were also not written.
If you find any of the missing posts, please let me know.
Thanks for understanding.
Hans
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Monday, September 3, 2007
Flotsam: A ghost is born
We hold in our hands a million objects, but some stick. This guy is one adhesive little poltergeist. He's been around so long that I often forget to look at him and sometimes my eyes pass right over him when I do see him. In other words, he's been around so long that he really is a ghost.
During college, when someone had access to a car (or later when I did), we drove to the theater by the mall for a "double feature." Often after the free show, we would make a stop at a diner. When we were near the mall, Friendly's Restaurant was the option of choice unless we wanted to delay the papers and assigned reading...then the State Street Diner was more likely the place to go.
If you haven't been to Friendly's, I'll help you out. Take a Denny's restaurant, color the booths fire-ant red, toss some jump-the-pegs brain-teaser games on the table, and add a focus on ice cream, including a double-thick shake called the Fribble. The restaurant radiates the meals (with ice cream) that it wants you to buy. Bountiful scoops of ice cream burst through the borders of what would otherwise be a rectangular menu. When you reach for the ketchup, your hand passes a flotilla of seasonal table-top menulets, standing tall in inverted plastic T's.
I freed my ghost from one of the seasonal table-top menus. He spoke to me, loud enough over the conversation with Trey or Britt or Tony or Amelia (or someone else?), that I decided we were hitting the road together and leaving the rest of the mini-menu behind. Since that day, he resides in my checkbook as the spector of finance. He has lived in my checkbook through 7 or 8 bank accounts; he can tell you a few tales.
Epilogue: In my cross-country travels, another ghost moved into the back of my checkbook--though I can't remember when or where that happened. But both ghosts are pretty much on their own. Checks are nearly obsolete. I can't clip the phantoms onto a credit card or attach them to an electronic funds transfer. So, they will become true ghosts someday. The last haunt will probably be a recycling center. Maybe part of the original spirit will make the journey across the country to a menu at a Friendly's restaurant. Stranger things have happened.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Binnacles Lost: 4 Intangibles near my office
SOMA, the neighborhood where my office is in San Francisco, is in the midst of several major development projects. When I first arrived, we told time by the pounding of 12-story pile-drivers. The fire department equipment tests would confirm which day of the week it was: Chainsaw Tuesday, Laddertruck Thursday, etc. The aural headaches are mainly now replaced by newly sprouting mega-chains, business parks, and condos, all in silent prayer that liquifaction is a myth.
So after three years (and change), it is no surprise that the daily rituals that have been my compass have gone adrift*. Here are a few intangible things that won't be back:
1) a good reason to call it a "coffee cart." My daily routine involves picking up coffee before entering the office. Nine days out of ten, I go to Cafe D'Amore at the CalTrain Depot. This originally started as a coffee cart, but soon transferred to a stand inside the station. So, it's not a cart anymore, but when the afternoon coffee fix is needed, I say I'm headed off to Coffee Cart. Staff members who only know the stand often call it the cart.
2) the way to find my preferred milk at the coffee cart. My usual order during the warmer months** is an iced americano or iced coffee. I love my coffe strong with a milk. My preferred aluminum dispenser had a dent from a careless customer. So it was easy to find. But then, one day, I arrived to find a chipped spout! Then, a shiny, new bottle appeared, labeled in handwritten sharpie. Could it be that people who use Whole Milk in their coffee beverages are more clumsy? (T don't answer that.)
3) the Choppers boycott. My office building had a small restaurant that was open for breakfast and lunch. When I started my job, I was forced to take a blood oath by J.B. that I would never set foot inside Chopper's until they changed their evil ways (stopped being mean, let people use the ATM, charged the same price from day to day, etc.). Once the building offered free bagels (paid for by the building) to thank the tenants for dealing with a construction hassle. I crossed the line for the bagel and was keel-hauled with a note that read "Hans is the devil". The note was scrawled in single-serving size strawberry jelly across a "free bagel" flyer. (many of those details are exagerrated for effect, or in other words, lies) Anyway, short story long, the Chopper's boycott was so effective that we didn't realize that they had new owners for about 3 months. The boycott was done, but I don't think I ever visited Chopper's as much as I might have without the blood oath. Chopper's itself is now gone; closed for remodeling to become an Australian wine bar...some things I don't make up.
4) the cut of Sparkle's jib. This is really the only thing that I miss out of these four things. I love dogs, but mainly dogs that reach a certain size. This isn't to say small dogs need not apply, but typically their resumes won't make it past the first cut. The "nice" owners of Chopper's had a Pomeranian named Sparkle. Sparkle was not yippy. Sparkle was a friendly, sleepy, frisky guard in the entrance way that added light to the start of the work day. Sparkle is gone because corporate chains moved into the neighborhood. Next time you have a mochafresca with a caprese-swanky wrap, think of Sparkle...she left for that tasty lunch.
My best to you and Sparkle,
Hans
*or to stay true to my title, the compass stand is now missing.
**[with smug tone] "Oh, I forgot, I live in California, so that would be all year."
So after three years (and change), it is no surprise that the daily rituals that have been my compass have gone adrift*. Here are a few intangible things that won't be back:
1) a good reason to call it a "coffee cart." My daily routine involves picking up coffee before entering the office. Nine days out of ten, I go to Cafe D'Amore at the CalTrain Depot. This originally started as a coffee cart, but soon transferred to a stand inside the station. So, it's not a cart anymore, but when the afternoon coffee fix is needed, I say I'm headed off to Coffee Cart. Staff members who only know the stand often call it the cart.
2) the way to find my preferred milk at the coffee cart. My usual order during the warmer months** is an iced americano or iced coffee. I love my coffe strong with a milk. My preferred aluminum dispenser had a dent from a careless customer. So it was easy to find. But then, one day, I arrived to find a chipped spout! Then, a shiny, new bottle appeared, labeled in handwritten sharpie. Could it be that people who use Whole Milk in their coffee beverages are more clumsy? (T don't answer that.)
3) the Choppers boycott. My office building had a small restaurant that was open for breakfast and lunch. When I started my job, I was forced to take a blood oath by J.B. that I would never set foot inside Chopper's until they changed their evil ways (stopped being mean, let people use the ATM, charged the same price from day to day, etc.). Once the building offered free bagels (paid for by the building) to thank the tenants for dealing with a construction hassle. I crossed the line for the bagel and was keel-hauled with a note that read "Hans is the devil". The note was scrawled in single-serving size strawberry jelly across a "free bagel" flyer. (many of those details are exagerrated for effect, or in other words, lies) Anyway, short story long, the Chopper's boycott was so effective that we didn't realize that they had new owners for about 3 months. The boycott was done, but I don't think I ever visited Chopper's as much as I might have without the blood oath. Chopper's itself is now gone; closed for remodeling to become an Australian wine bar...some things I don't make up.
4) the cut of Sparkle's jib. This is really the only thing that I miss out of these four things. I love dogs, but mainly dogs that reach a certain size. This isn't to say small dogs need not apply, but typically their resumes won't make it past the first cut. The "nice" owners of Chopper's had a Pomeranian named Sparkle. Sparkle was not yippy. Sparkle was a friendly, sleepy, frisky guard in the entrance way that added light to the start of the work day. Sparkle is gone because corporate chains moved into the neighborhood. Next time you have a mochafresca with a caprese-swanky wrap, think of Sparkle...she left for that tasty lunch.
My best to you and Sparkle,
Hans
*or to stay true to my title, the compass stand is now missing.
**[with smug tone] "Oh, I forgot, I live in California, so that would be all year."
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Flotsam: 12 cans of Miller High Life
"Well I ain't feeling happy
About the state of things in my life
But I'm working to make it better
With a six of Miller High Life"
--TMBG - "Alienatation's for the Rich"
In July, our house was blessed with the arrival of 12 cans of Miller High Life and my cousin S. from Germany. The beer was purchased in Las Vegas, Nevada and transported to Oakland during a drive lasting a half-marathon's worth of hours. The cans drove through Reno and Yosemite and somehow avoided injury from bears and gamblers.
Due to the stellar tour at Anchor Brewing Company the next morning and a drive to the beach in Santa Cruz the next day, the canned-champagne remained when S. started on the road to home.
Current tally:
1 beer partially consumed by T.; discarded after she declared that it tasted like a fraternity party. (Sorry S.)
4 beers consumed by me on Tuesday art nights; L.M. would be proud that I can still drink High Life.
7 beers waiting for folks who are not swayed by the 24-oz bottles of Red Rocket.
Stop by for a toast to S. if you have a chance. Get them while they are cold!
Cheers,
Hans
Erratum: ligan (a.k.a. the mission)
The title of my blog "flotsam, jetsam, and errata" should really be "ligan and errata" or even "simply ligan".
The term "flotsam and jetsam", when found outside the bounds of maritime law, is usually misused to describe the miscellaneous debris that washes into our possession often floating across our desks and filling the attics and crawl spaces until they burst. Flotsam and jetsam are really goods of potential value that have been thrown into the ocean. Jetsam implies that said items were willingly tossed overboard (usually to lighten the load in an emergency) and flotsam usually implies that said items were not planned to be lost. Sadly, in a world of shipwrecks, pirates, Republican presidents, sea monsters and other dangers, we live with the simple truth that "flotsam happens." Though to be fair, jetsam also happens.
I plan to use this blog as a place to document some of the useless stuff* of potential value that comes through my life and in the process describe the treasure troves that I have discovered. But this, faithful reader, is where the error comes in! This blog is really a collection of items tethered for later retrieval. That means that this isn't about flotsam and jetsam at all, but it's all ligan. What a laugh!
I regret the error and will try to be more precise next time.
Cheers,
Hans
*subliminal Cracker reference
The term "flotsam and jetsam", when found outside the bounds of maritime law, is usually misused to describe the miscellaneous debris that washes into our possession often floating across our desks and filling the attics and crawl spaces until they burst. Flotsam and jetsam are really goods of potential value that have been thrown into the ocean. Jetsam implies that said items were willingly tossed overboard (usually to lighten the load in an emergency) and flotsam usually implies that said items were not planned to be lost. Sadly, in a world of shipwrecks, pirates, Republican presidents, sea monsters and other dangers, we live with the simple truth that "flotsam happens." Though to be fair, jetsam also happens.
I plan to use this blog as a place to document some of the useless stuff* of potential value that comes through my life and in the process describe the treasure troves that I have discovered. But this, faithful reader, is where the error comes in! This blog is really a collection of items tethered for later retrieval. That means that this isn't about flotsam and jetsam at all, but it's all ligan. What a laugh!
I regret the error and will try to be more precise next time.
Cheers,
Hans
*subliminal Cracker reference
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