Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Stuck In Traffic

Sitting on a bus, bike on rack, the traffic from Water to Soquel going south on a Tuesday afternoon is a disaster. They call it rush hour, cuz' everyone's rushing to get the fuck away from their horrible jobs, so they can get home, nuke dinner, and watch TV till' sleepy time, but poetically enough, no one's going anywhere. At least I get to read a book rather than worry about putting my foot on the gas every few seconds to move a few inches forward. It's times like these I recall the perpetual nightmare that is the Los Angeles freeway system and the blood pressure squeezing AM talk radio shows my dad used to subject me to.

All the route 71s are running late today. It's always this way the bus driver says to someone who inquires what the fuck is the holdup all about. The bus driver then adds, "Single driver in a single car makes traffic."

How ugly and true. It's something I don't witness in its totality too often as I'm usually zipping past cars on Soquel or Murray St. But on a bus, it's painful to watch. The lines of rectangular metal objects, inside: little humanoids, outside: concrete - all of it stretching into the horizon. It's even more painful if you recognize that with exception to the few hybrids on the road, every engine is just running idly, spewing toxic particulates into the air for no reason other than there are simply too many other particulate spewing combustible engines on the road.

Even as we pass over the freeway on Soquel Ave, near Dominican Hospital, Highway 1 going South is as hopeless as the side streets we're stuck on. I glance at my watch and then glance again - I could just get off and ride to my destination in Aptos, and bypass all this bullshit but it would take a lot out of me, and heavy riding = heavy eating and unfortunately, I don't have a lot of food.

I weigh my options, I look outside at all the bloody cars. Endgame. That's what I think - we've reached the logical conclusion of individualism. The technophile society thinks there are no limits to the natural world, but they are completely wrong. The problem is, the system refuses to acknowledge they're wrong and have made a colossal mistake. Is there a way out? I don't know. I decide to stay on the bus for the rest of the ride, and read my book.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

And Again!


As far as I'm concerned, this is getting weird.

It's true, I don't get out of dodge very much and I also don't order pizza so maybe this is common in other places or universes outside Santa Cruz but...

I've just never noticed this many "luxury" cars in town moonlighting as pizza delivery vehicles. Seriously. It's unnerving...and funny. Yesterday, I'm riding down Bay towards the Boardwalk, I hang a left and I shit you not, a blue BMW zooms by with a Pizza My Heart sign on top.


Okay, true, this doesn't really compare with the Mercedes' I've seen around town with Dominoes and Woodstock Pizza signs, and true, the drivers have all been young men obviously borrowing mom n' dad's vehicle...or more likely, it was a hand me down car (for what it's worth, I got the family 87' Honda when I turned 22 and quickly run it into the ground). But still, with 1 in 6 people out of work in this country, and expensive ass cars being used as pizza delivery vehicles, I'm just saying, we could very well be on the brink of apocalypse. : |

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

It Happened Again

Last Friday, walking through the parking lot of the downtown Trader Joe's/CVS/FedEx Kinkos, I saw a white Mercedes Benz with a Woodstock Pizza delivery sign on top. Whoah. It was only about a month ago that I saw a black Mercedes with a Dominoes sign on top - I actually saw this car twice in Capitola. The last time, the kid driving it was blasting Gun n' Roses. It was kinda surreal...

But a Woodstock Pizza sign on a white Mercedes. Wow. It all sounds like a bad joke, "you know we're in a Depression when..."

For some reason, I can't help but picture one of the opening scenes in Borat, where his car is being towed by a donkey. Now, that'll be a sure sign of the apolacypse in America: donkey delivered pizza. mmmmm.....delicious.