it seems all right as long as something's happening

My brain is working backwards, so that's how this post will flow. Last night, I discovered a radio gem, and I'm distraught that I didn't find it sooner. I was driving to the grocery store, and stumbled upon the start of The Live 105 Soundcheck. MAN. So this is where all the good songs were hanging out. It reminded me of a show I used to listen to on the east coast- Vin Scelsa's Idiot's Delight. Scelsa's program was nowhere near as tragically hip, but he recognized good music- you could depend on a good setlist. He also had such a following that he could get access to impressive artists, something I don't think the Soundcheck can pull off. I don't care. I'm just happy to find a radio station playing something interesting, instead of Lonely No More for the 7000th time in one day.

Bay to Breakers was the usual chaos. I know I'm going to sound like an old square, but I'm really in awe of people that can drink Budweiser's at 8 o'clock in the morning. I tip my hat to you, crazy drunken hipsters! The costumes varied from creative to I just picked out the weirdest stuff in my closet and threw it all on. My favorite this year was a simple one, a pack of women in pink t-shirts that had, in understated writing, We're just not that into you. Honorable mention goes to a trio of Michael Jacksons- one dressed up as Rock with You MJ, another as Annie are you okay MJ, and the third as the current Crazy MJ (complete with face mask). My brother came with us this year, and he looked at me like I was absolutely out of my mind when I started nodding my head to Best Friend by English Beat, which was playing cheerfully at the beginning of the race. Sometimes I think my brother only has three settings on his internal radio- hiphop, dub and Bob Marley. Anything else just elicits that weird glance of his. Perhaps I'll have some pictures tomorrow- my camera is a piece of garbage, in case anyone was wondering.

Since I am writing this post, it's probably apparent that I survived my solo hiking adventure on Saturday. I went on a great hike, though I had gone there before. Still, hiking a trail alone gives you a completely different perspective on the place. I absorbed more of my surroundings. Unfortunately, being alone also lends itself all too well to introspection. Normally, that wouldn't be unfortunate. But when all you can think about is uncertainty, suddenly getting lost in your own thoughts loses its appeal. No matter- the hike was still fantastic. Also, I was neither eaten by a large, ferocious animal, nor attacked by a creepy hiker. That's a shame, because I was starting to feel really comfortable in my hiking boots, and I would have loved to kick someone with them. Okay, that's not true. I'm glad there were no shady characters. It was all very pleasant. I even had a nice chat with some people at the trailhead. Hiking alone gives you some street cred, apparently, so I was interrogated about the trail conditions, the temperature, the foot traffic.

So you might conclude I came out of this solo hiking trip unscathed. Wrong. On the way home, I stopped for gas. After an entire trek through some uneven terrain, I picked a gas station convenience mart as the place to trip and fall. It made me sad to be alone, all of a sudden. I would have very much liked to jump to my feet, throw my arms up straight, and yell "Superstar!" channeling Molly Shannon in SNL, but I did not have the right audience present. Instead, all I had to show for it were some concerned glances and a minor bruise on my good knee. I rule, no? Okay, no.

Sepia Mutiny posted quite a while back about San Bernadino County's prejudiced tendencies. Interestingly, NPR had a piece this morning that further confirms the county's predilection for acting like pre-MLK era Alabama. Maybe I am not yearning to move down to Southern California after all.