so. it’s official. after nine years of rabid urban bicycling i’m too scared to ride my bike.
i don’t know what brought this on. nothing brought it on. everything brought it on. i haven’t ridden for nearly a week, but today i had to, because i’m working in oakland, at my stupid job that i hate that i got a year ago today & was so so happy about. there’s no reliable, convenient public transit from where i live to where i work. there is public transit but it would take roughly an hour to go about three miles. so i said fuck it. because i believe in facing my fears. in not letting fear win. i made it about 6 blocks, to 47th & butler, before a school bus came up from behind me, roaring, tons & tons & tons of indifferent metal. nothing that hasn’t happened thousands of times before.
but this time i wasn’t brave enough. so i pulled over to the side of the road. i knew i wasn’t just going to let it pass and keep on going. i pulled onto the sidewalk & stepped off, shaking. i’m not brave enough anymore.
so i walked here, to the library. up & up the hill, looking to all the pedestrians like some stupid weak girl who couldn’t make it up the hill on a bike, like i have to push it. i know i can do it, physically, but i can’t, mentally. it took every ounce of strength & composure i may have left to not just throw my fucking bike to the floor and weep, right there.
so is this it? do i give myself up to the cruel mistress of public transit? do i give up on the idea that i can get places when i want to go to them, on my schedule. do i ignore the voice inside of me saying “don’t do it, you’ll get killed” and then get killed because i want to do what i want when i want to? is that worth dying for? once i would have said, inarguably, yes. yes it is. now i’m not so certain.
& the worst part is, i don’t know when i’m being intuitive & when i’m just being crazy. when i’m saving my life vs. when i’m ruining it. they look & feel & sound the same.
this weekend was so weird and quiet and strange. spent it boyfriendless for the first time in a long time (his mom was visiting) & it was nice to have some time all to myself to explore and exist and be.
saturday was the garlickiest garlic bread ever, friends new and old, laughing until i squeaked, making a wallet (or beginning one, anyway), staying up late and falling asleep happy & content by myself in my tiny blue-green room.
on sunday i went to book ‘em before normal hours so i could get some work done for a few hours. on the ride home i decided to cut through the allegheny cemetery (blatantly ignoring the “NO BIKES” sign. yup, call the badass office and tell them to issue me a license…) (I’M BEING SARCASTIC) and it was fucking so incredibly gorgeous i thought i was gonna fall right off my bike. that place in autumn is FUCKING BEAUTIFUL! the most beautiful place in pittsburgh!
i disturbed a flock of ravens, by accident, with my pedaling & they all took off & i was surrounded by hundreds of birds in flight. it was fucking magic.
and then i made s’mores on my stovetop and then went to the laundromat. i sat on the stoop of a pizza place while my clothes were in the drier, sewing my wallet and enjoying the sun on my face. the pizza place was closed (or so i thought), making it a prime place to sit in the sun like a wayward senior citizen (or so i thought!)
but, a guy needed to get in, so i jumped up, kinda startled. when i put my left foot down, i was like “ow” and went to investigate. i saw a huge sewing needle sticking out of my shoe, so i pulled it out. i put my left foot down again and it still hurt. upon closer inspection, i’d stepped on TWO needles at once, one of which had snapped and was impaled in my shoe & was impossible to pull out with my bare hands.
so, i called pino 911 and she came with a bag full of pliers and saved the day. god, i love that woman. we took a walk and talked about life. we were hugging goodbye a few hours later & talking about making dinner. a guy wearing a stars-and-stripes jogging suit was staring at us & pino jokingly said, “what, ya wanna come to dinner too?” he yelled, “i dunno, what’s good?” “everything i make is good!” “oh yeah, like what?” “like liver and onions!” “liver and onions, huh? how do ya make that?” and he wouldn’t leave until pino explained, in detail, how to make liver & onions. i lurked in the background cuz i didn’t want to leave her alone with this insane man. finally he was satisfied and walked down the street. as he passed me he made eye contact, looking at ME like i was the crazy one, and sneered, “you can go back to your girlfriend now,” !!! what a weirdo. i texted pino about it once i got home and she replied with something like, “that’s the last time i talk to a stranger wearing gym clothes.” ha!
p.s. OMG, like, seventeen magazine is hatin’ on FTMs. you should check it out. totally fucked up & minorly surprising, as both teen people and cosmogirl! had positive articles on trannies in the past few years. oh well. write them, or not, it probably won’t make a real difference but i guess it’s good to be aware of, or something…
of me, my sister & my mom this weekend. at the warhol, duh. i’m holding a sign that says “i suck” but you can’t see it. my mom’s glasses are tilted because i accidentally knocked them off in our mad dash to fit in the photobooth before the flash went off. 
this weekend was really fun & good. sometimes i forget that my mom is actually a very fun, interesting lady. it was sunny and we did all sorts of fun things and i felt loved and appreciated, which is rare when it comes to my family.
more later, with pictures, if i feel like it.
Filed under: wingnuts
example: the following things that people googled in order to come across this page. sorry if this is dull to any of yinz, i just think it’s so fascinating and strange!
1. girls breasts without clothes
2. auto mechanic memorial tattoo (i got 3 separate hits for this!!! is this really so popular???!?)
3. indecent birthday image
4. breast tattoo gallery
5. what i did at work today
6. “i am not femme”
7. games kill the boss derailleur (!??!!?!??!!!!!!!!!!!) (for those of you who don’t know, a derailleur is a part on a bike. it changes the gears)
8. “ironically, i still love”
9. i am a young male and my boss is such an asshole i can’t take it anymore
10. “begging you for change hair on”
to those of you who are bored: you should write me a hundred-word story about why anyone would google any one of these bizarre phrases. leave it in the comments. be outrageous. i love you.
so last month ray & i took a strange midwestern roadtrip & i am finally putting some pics on the interweb.
![DSCN0840[1]](http://agingriotgrrrl.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/dscn08401.jpg?w=419&h=314 "DSCN0840[1]")
we found this hilarious bisexual porn at an I-70 porn shop (called, hilariously, “the lion’s den”) and i wanted to take pictures of us reading it everywhere, but it quickly got lost in the car & i forgot. so this is the only pic of me reading it, in a state park in ohio where we camped out.
![DSCN0849[1]](http://agingriotgrrrl.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/dscn08491.jpg?w=419&h=314 "DSCN0849[1]")
this is ray in columbus, oh. sorry i didn’t rotate it.
![DSCN0850[1]](http://agingriotgrrrl.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/dscn08501.jpg?w=419&h=314 "DSCN0850[1]")
this is also in columbus, oh, maybe a few minutes after taking the previous picture. so much kissing!
![DSCN0854[1]](http://agingriotgrrrl.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/dscn08541.jpg?w=419&h=314 "DSCN0854[1]")
this is me in indianapolis, in, in relentless search of vegetarian food. it’s hard to find in indiana (a state that neither of us liked)
![DSCN0892[1]](http://agingriotgrrrl.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/dscn08921.jpg?w=419&h=314 "DSCN0892[1]")
yo, did you know that the (AMAZING) community center in urbana, which hosts its local prison book program, which of course we visited because we’re giant dorks, has a freaking COSTUME ROOM?!!? omg! it is so much more fun packing books whilst wearing a bridal veil & sequinned wrap, and when your boyfriend looks like a big gay cowboy wearing sparkly clip-on earings. hurrah!
not pictured:
*wingnuts in indianapolis
*totally cute boy we became friends with at an ice cream shop in columbus
*amazing thrift scores at ohio thrift (the boardgame girl talk, a perfect skirt, a baseball hat for elmer’s glue, rubber stamps of all the bones in a skeleton, more…)
*delicious vegetarian food
*endless sweet people
*bumping into my old housemate caroline nappo, who i haven’t seen in 7 years
etc, etc, etc. i really want to travel more now. my itchy traveling foot needs some calomine.
IN UNRELATED NEWS:
*i’m at the lawrenceville library & it’s official, it’s closing next summer. : ( : ( : ( the guy at the desk told me so. he said, “but maybe we can do something about it. there ain’t no use crying over spilled milk–once it’s actually spilled, then we’ll cry” and it was oddly touching.
and,
*my mom is in a commercial! she’s the blonde woman wearing glasses, sniffing some tomatoes & looking mildly crazed. ha ha ha. i just talked about it with mumzy last night & apparently the commercial was directed by morgan spurlock of “super size me” fame. also, the woman at the very end of the commercial, looking skeptical, is the new principal of my old high school. who knew? certainly not me.
*the cold
*endlessly getting soaked
*unsafely riding my bike without my glasses because they’re so covered in droplets as to be un-useable
*cold toilet seats
*spending all my money on heating billz yet still being cold all the fucking time.
yet, it’s here. it’s SEPTEMBER. boo! well, i haven’t turned on my furnace yet and i’d like to wait at least another month. i turned it on halfway through october last year but that’s only because i got sick.
travelling last week has made me want to go everywhere. i’ve got a few schemes hatching, but realistically, they probably won’t go anywhere. i want to go places.
got a letter from prison from a felon whom i am close with–a dude from a wealthy supportive family. he traveled the world on his parents’ dime before he was locked up. now he’s in prison & has been for years, for crimes that were 100% his choice to commit–not things he was forced into, as so many people behind bars are. and when he sends me a letter complaining about how he’s stuck in america forever because he’s a felon & most countries don’t allow amerikan felons to visit, i just get angry. i’m not behind bars but i’m not free either. none of us are. i’ve never really left amerika and i hardly even leave pittsburgh and obviously i am not gonna send a letter into prison about how oppressed and un-free i am but i don’t know, it just really pissed me off.
i heard my boss talking shit on me this morning so now i’m on strike. not officially, of course, just in a passive-aggressive way, because as tempting as it was to charge in and yell, “oh yeah? well FUCK YOU” and storm out, i can’t do that.
so i’m still here. thinking about disgusting orange jell-o desserts, about portland oregon, about zines, about people i know who used to be exciting and who are now boring. i’m taking a slide into the boring side of life, myself, and am shocked at how…pleasant it is. WTF? i don’t want to lose my grip on the world or on life. but i am tired of fighting, at the same time. pretty much everyone i know who has gotten boring is just tired of fighting. and i can hardly blame them, even though i miss their old selves.
i really really want to finish the first draft of my nov before the year is up. i need to write about 40 more pages. i’m not inspired at all. but i’ve decided to sit down with it an hour per day, monday through friday. it’s like homework. i was never any good at doing homework. still, it needs to be done. i have things to say that need to get out there & it’s not gonna happen unless i get some real work done. do i have anything else to say? i started this novel in the summer of 2006, that sweaty hopeless summer in philly. it was four pages, written mainly to piss off my girlfriend-at-the-time (it was a cautionary tale about an out-of-control compost pile!) and now it’s about 180 pages. and i just have to keep on going. finishing things is hard, but if i don’t finish then all this work will have been for nothing. i’m tired of that.
hello. i’ve had a lot to say but not a lot of time or internet access to write it in. i went on a strange midwestern roadtrip two weeks ago & then last week was the g-20 summit in pittsburgh. i didn’t actively protest but i did attend some protests, just to witness this strange moment in pgh history. it was nice to see people out and about; nice to see some new blood; nice to see some old friends.
it wasn’t nice to see the former love of my life running towards the riot cops looking totally crazed. realizing that she was here, in pittsburgh, and didn’t even try to say hi. i don’t know if she saw me, but it was heartbreaking. utterly heartbreaking, but i won’t bore you with the particulars. at least i could comfort myself with the fact that her hair looks completely and genuinely horrible. small comfort, but sometimes it helps.
i’m in the empty office. i want to be at home writing for my book or my zine. but i’m here because our particular corner of the country is experiencing crazy-high winds and the siding blew off my office. well, half of it did, and the other half is flapping in the breeze. i’m waiting for my boss’ handyman to come in. i’m waiting for a lot of things.
Filed under: Uncategorized
hello! i’m at work, on a day i’m not normally scheduled, my boss is over three hours late but i don’t mind getting paid $12 an hour to sit on my sweet queer ass, printing out stuff from the ACLU web site to mail to various prisoners whose various rights are being violated, getting jittery and jumpy on too much coffee, too much hydrogenated oil. whoo hoo!
lately i’ve been more skittish in traffic than usual. i think it’s because now that bikey is fixed i can go a lot faster than usual, and that coupled with the pot-holey roads of pittsburgh, plus the general indifference of most drivers, seems like disaster is inevitable. i’ve been more afraid and unsure. i feel like being a biker in a city is not unlike endlessly being around a guy who lunges at you like he’s going to punch you and then laughs in your face when you cringe. endlessly, the implied threat of violence, with the ever-present possibility that it could become real.
my boss is here & i gotta go.
something funny happened while i was biking to work today. out of the corner of my eye i noticed two 30-something guys. one had climbed up the side of the beam holding up the porch, and the other one was helping him down. i glanced at them, was amused, and rolled on my way. as i passed them a little, i overheard the following convo:
ridiculous lawrenceville man #1 [scornfully & loudly]: man! you did all that and that biker lady didn’t even LOOK!
ridiculous lawrenceville man #2: how could you not look? that shit was so cool! what the hell?
this made me laugh and i continued on to work happy (until my tupperware malfunctioned and i spilled the delicious curried-zucchini-potatoes-and-chickpeas lunch i’d packed all over my bike & the sidewalk, in front of this annoying guy from the bank. BOO!!!
but speaking of bikes, OMG. i seriously had the worst bike shop experience of my whole life at iron city bikes this week! i normally don’t go there, but it’s really close to job #2. i heard a rumor that my bottom bracket was fucked up, so i dropped it off for an overhaul. it was bad enough that when i dropped it off, the obnoxious dude working the counter implied that i was stupid enough to ride around with my brakes totally disengaged (“uh, you do know that your back brakes aren’t even on, right?” “that’s because i had to take the wheels off to fit it in his car!” “uh, you do know that your front brakes aren’t even on…?” DUH. like i am just gonna bop around with NO FUCKING BRAKES. grrrrrrr).
but then when i went to pick it up, i found that the front derailleur had come loose in the fixin’ process and was pushing my chain into hateful first gear and not smooth, easy second gear. i was like “sigh” because i REALLY didn’t want to bring it back and deal with more dudeliness. but it worked when i brought it there, however imperfectly, and didn’t work anymore. so i gritted my teeth and went back in. i calmly explained what was wrong and asked if they could fix it. and the manager fucking yelled at me! he literally yelled, “i don’t know WHO agreed to fix this bike! there is so much shit wrong with this bike! it’s a safety hazard! i can’t believe you ride this thing!” etc etc. i seriously wanted to cry. i have issues with men yelling at me, but i said, in a firm unwavering voice. “look. this worked when i brought it in and it doesn’t work anymore. can we please just fix it so i can get home?” he knelt down to look at it and was making hyperventilating noises like he was about to start crying himself. IT WAS SO WEIRD.
but i guess the story ends happily, because they took off my offending derailleur (which hasn’t worked since 2002) and now my bike works so well! i zip around the city like a dream. now i understand why i was having so much trouble getting up the hill, why i was so exhausted after biking everywhere. it wasn’t my fault! it was the fault of a shitty bottom bracket that should have been replaced years ago, as well as the derailleur rubbing against my chain. and now that i’m free of both those things i feel so free.
but seriously, fuck a bunch of those bike assholes. i am so tired of being treated like an idiot every time i go to a bike shop. i’m not an idiot. i’ve been a commuter biker for 9 years now. i know how to fix a flat, adjust my brakes, etc. and what REALLY pisses me off is that EVERY TIME i go in to a bike shop with a dude, it’s always a dude who knows less about bikes than i do and rides less than i do, but they are ALWAYS treated with more respect. they are listened to, things are explained to them, they aren’t rudely cut off or yelled at or condescended to. it makes me so angry i could just scream. i wish i was handy enough to fix all my own shit and never have to give my money to someone who is such a blatant asshole to me ever again, but my hands are tied, as are the hands of any woman who drives a car or rides a bike. it’s fucked up.
dudes: if you’re in a bike shop with a lady (or someone who’s perceived as a lady) and you catch the mechanic treating them like an asshole, you can call them on it. really, you can. just a simple “hey, she knows what she’s talking about” can do wonders. i remember once, about 7 years ago, i was at home on long island and i was telling my dad about something that had gone wrong with my bike. he said, “oooooookay,” like i was being ridiculous, chuckled condescendingly, and gave my brother (who does not know a damn thing about bikes) a sidelong glance like i was being crazy. my brother snapped, “you should listen to ocean. she knows a lot about bikes,” and my dad’s face fell. it was an awesome moment of sibling solidarity. and you know what? my dad never questioned my ability to fix my bike again. that’s all it took. (and geez, it’s my dad! my dad is always saying that i’m smarter than him, but even he couldn’t be nice about this one fucking thing.)
so please. dudes and people who are perceived as dudes: bike shop solidarity. we need it. mechanics: yelling at people for not having a perfectly maintained bike does not accomplish anything. being condescending to women does not make yr dick bigger. and being a fucking asshole serves no one. the end.
warning! the following post is not amanda safe! it features graphic depictions of a certain lovable curmudgeon that you’d rather just imagine. if you are amanda, please redirect your energies to something that you wanna see, like this!
anyway. at work, we’re trying to authenticate a jackson pollock painting. the law clerk, m., made some comment about how anyone could make a splatter-y painting. “let’s see you do it,” said my boss. at first we thought he was kidding, but he went on and on about it (this was on wednesday). “next monday, [ocean] will bring in her camera and a drop cloth, and i’ll bring in some housepaints. m. will bring in a canvas, and he’ll paint us a pollock!”
so, monday came, M. and i brought in the requested items. we did a normal day’s work and then at about 4:15, my boss said, “[ocean], didn’t you bring any beer in today?” “uh, no.” “M. needs some beer! All artists need beer!” So M. went to the bar down the street to buy a 6-pack. then he changed into his painting clothes. i took a picture of him sitting at his computer to show his law-school classmates about how hard he’s working this summer:
while M. was setting up in the backyard, about one beer into this process, i noticed that he hadn’t closed the front door proplerly & it had blown open (everyone does that! grr!) and i complained to my boss briefly. “he’s already drunk,” sniffed my boss.
and then M. got set everything up in the backyard and everyone shuffled out to watch him paint.
“you should haul in a psychiatrist to analyze what M’s REALLY saying,” i said.
“i was a psychology major,” said my boss. he stared at the splatters for a long time. “he has an aversion to military service,” he concluded.
also, another attorney came by to pick up some paper and was barely able to conceal his disgust with all of us for being so unprofessional and wasting company time! ha!
everyone’s gone home and i’m still in the office. they all left over an hour ago. i was going to use the internet time after work today to search for a better-paying job, but i just can’t.
