Sartor resartused

Number of sport coats packed and worn on my six day trip to San Francisco: 2.

Number of overcoats worn (but brought) on my six day trip to San Francisco: 0. (The weather was perfectly clear except the morning I left, when there was intermittent rain.)

Number of shoes packed for my six day trip to San Francisco (for Dr. Write): 2 pair. A pair for fancy loafers and my new Adidas regular wear trainers.

Number of shirts spilled on during my six day trip to San Francisco: 2. Do I know myself or what?

Number of spilled-on shirts worn despite soilage: 1. Meh. It was night.

Number of pairs of socks left over: 2. Hmm.

Number of slacks not worn: 2. Go green!

Number of ties worn: 2. Perfect planning.

"Outfit" that got the best reception: light blue shirt, khaki pants, and 60's whacky black coat with bold fancy red stripe tie I bought on super closeout (5 bucks regularly 50) at Macy's two years ago with the afore-mentioned loafers.

Expense of said outfit: less than 20 bucks if you don't count the shoes. And the shoes were only 30 bucks original price 95. Close out is your friend. Price not on close out or as hand-me-downs (the wicked whacky sixties jacket) over 500, I think.

Clothes that prevented me from getting a nasty San Francisco flu: 0. I have finally recovered from it. I blame the vagrants. They just don't know how to dress.

Sartor resartus

Number of shirts packed for 6-day trip to San Francisco: 8. Never underestimate your ability to spill food upon your shirt.

Number of pairs of trousers packed for 6-day trip to San Francisco: 5. Congratulate yourself for the ability to keep your trousers clean.

Number of undershirts packed for 6-day trip to San Francisco: 6. No one in their right mind changes their under shirt more than once per day.

Number of pairs of socks packed for 6-day trip to San Francisco: 8. Sometimes socks need changing. Usually no more than twice in a trip--usually after a long walk.

Number of underpants packed for 6-day trip to San Francisco: 8. Where is my robot body?

Number of tie dye shirts packed for 6-day trip to San Francisco: 0. I will also not be wearing flowers in my hair. I will also not be traipsing around Haight/Ashbury. I will also not be remembering the summer of love or Ken Kesey.

Number of belts nearly forgotten but packed for 6-day trip to San Francisco: 1. Belts are generally important devices. I've been without one a few times. Trust me. They're necessary.

Number of umbrellas packed for 6-day trip to San Francisco: 0. Why? Because fuck the rain, that's why.

Pure radio pleasure

I was attending to work, traveling to yet another conference today, so I had the pleasure of listening to Hot Rod call the game for the Jazz against los Nuggets. There is nothing like hearing how the best team in the NBA (Utah) trounced another good NBA team (Denver) while traveling through the marrow of the world.

Jazz.

Potential

It is pissing down rain. Lucky for me I brought an umbrella.

As seen on Oprah

As seen on Oprah, originally uploaded by Theorris.

I do recommend it, however. It does seem to work. I used to get sick
every time I flew long distances. I've taken AirBorne on the last few and have been ok. Funny how it reminds me of certain German vitamin drinks that are fizzy, but that's another story.

I don't like their selling point, however: "Created by a second grade teacher." I hated my second grade teacher. Mrs. Snakefield, as we called her, was, ahem, a bitch.

If you haven't figured it out, I'm traveling again. This time to NYC, my droogies. I have some photo expeditions planned. We'll see.

I don't leave my heart any where, but I may leave my liver here

Ok that title is a very bad joke, particularly since I promised myself I would never make such a stupid topical reference to a city with a theme song, but it just struck me that there is an honor bar in the room. I kid. I kid. Actually I have a long day tomorrow.

Another question: eventhough I'm traveling on a publisher's dime, should I complain that my room smells like a very over-chlorinated swimming pool and that the air purifier was left in my room? I take it that the Hotel Adagio either has a mildew problem (quite likely for San Francisco's climate) or that the previous tenant smoked (despite the rather strenuous warning they give you at the desk about such miscreant behavior.)

I think I'm going to go out and see if I get mugged. Nah, San Francisco isn't that bad, and I'm a big guy: 6 foot 8, 280.

Hurry up and wait

So how far in advance should one arrive at an airport? I've been 2 hours early before and barely made the plane. I've been 2 hours early before and have had the joy of sitting around the airport for and hour and a half before boarding.

Thoughts?

Travel

The box elder bug,
An unlikely commuter,
Flutters to the door.

Keen!

Now this is a keen idea: Flexcar or Zipcar. Something tells me, however, it is going to be a long time before they offer this service in SLC.

If you don't have anything nice to say....

So I've been out of town since Wednesday of last week at a conference. It was not that I didn't have Internet access nor that I was super-busy at said conference, but that I really found nothing interesting in the host city to comment upon. Everything I could think of ended up being a bitch, so I'll forgo all that just to say I was out of town and that is that. I might post some pictures.
Maybe.

Or maybe you want to read my bitching about city sterility, lack of humanity, no ATMs ANYWHERE, empty-headed planning, urban decay, pointlessness, unhappy race-relations, and an overall sense of urban banality that goes on, and on, and on?

Guess which city I was in, and win a prize of sheer exuberance. (No cheating those of you who know where I went.)

"Nowhere you! Everywhere the electric!"

Woo hoo! Tomorrow I head for New York.

It has been some years since I was in the City.

I'll be tied up with professional commitments and I haven't planned a damn thing, but still: it is New York.

City of the small shoulder! Book reader of the world!

I'm not sure if Carl Sandburg ever wrote a poem about New York. I doubt it.

Maybe I'll skip everything and visit Paterson, New Jersey for the fuck of it.

The Silk City.

WCW.

WCW. Aww yeah.

Oh, I'll post pictures in the usual place, given that my mega-watt hotel supposedly has highspeed Internet access as a part of its "comforts."