Live to Ride/Ride to Live

Since moving out to Santa Barbara, I’ve taken up road biking. There is probably not a better place in the country for biking than SB, which is why Lance Armstrong trained for the Tour de France here. On Friday, I found out that he often trained on part of my usual route. That made me feel cool.

Basically, that route starts at my house and goes pretty much straight uphill to the Mount Calvary Monastery. It’s just over a 1000 foot climb, which gives me a pretty good workout. The views from the monastery are spectacular—you can see two canyons, the highest mountains in the area, the shoreline, and on clear days, you can see the peaks of Santa Cruz and Anacapa islands across the channel. So it makes for a nice reward for all the huffing and puffing. Of course, the hardcore guys go all the way up the mountain (I think it goes up to abou 3800 feet). Last summer, I made it to about the 2000 foot mark, but when school started I had to scale down the amount of time I could devote to riding.

The picture above is my faithful steed. The first one below is the Santa Barbara Mission, which is just a few blocks away from our house. Once I pass the mission, the steep part begins. The rest of the pictures are views from the monastery, except for the last one, which is a shot of my leg muscles when I finish a ride.

Time Magazine: "Metaphysicians are Pseudophilosophers"

Some of my best friends are metaphysicians. Earlier today I read about their secret society: the Royal Fraternity of Master Metaphysicians. The article is here.

A quotation:

At the Royal Fraternity's headquarters, the Forum of Truth and the Center of Peace (a fairish-sized lecture room) in Manhattan's Steinway Hall. Mr. Schafer delivers four talks a week. Truth Students become Master Metaphysicians after studying more than a year and a half.

What they study is far from clear, but the Royal Fraternity's creed might be described as a theological goulash of Rosicrucianism, Christian Science, Christianity, Supermind Science, faith healing and How to Win Friends and Influence People.

First of all, I always looked up to metaphysics guys for doing something hard. No one told me how easy it was to become a Master Metaphysician! And here I am writing a dissertation in political philosophy, like a chump.

Then again, the next two sentences make me suspect that the quality of instruction might not be up to par:

As to the number of middle-aged ladies he has attracted, "the Christian Science Church doesn't publish the number of its membership," says Mr. Schafer; "Why should we?" However: "Our organization is unorganized. You can't define a thing like that."

Bonus tidbit: the last sentence of the article uses the racial epithet "darky" in referring to another cult. This freaked me out, until I saw that it was published in 1938. Still, what’s up with that, Time Magazine?

Extra bonus tidbit: I actually read about Little Father Divine about three weeks ago. I had watched a mesmerizing documentary about the Jonestown massacre (that was some seriously messed up stuff, by the way), and came across FD when I looked up Jim Jones on the web. I even watched footage of him on Youtube. Things like that make me suspect I'm in the matrix.

Headlines that Alarm Me

Earlier today, my Google Desktop News window featured this headline:

“Ranson Bids to Take Over Man City”

For those of you who didn’t know already, Watoosa’s maiden name was “Ranson.” So you can imagine how sharply my right eyebrow arced upon seeing that news tidbit. Suspecting that my devious spouse was up to something, I expressly forbade her from ever setting foot in or near Man City. But she pointed out that she’d never want to go to Man City anyway because there wouldn’t be a single clean bathroom to be found.

That makes sense, but I’m still keeping my eye on her.

Unconstant Vigilance

Walking back from class, I realized that one of my worst nightmares had come true—I noticed my barn door was wide open. I used to be pretty paranoid about it, and I always made sure to check right before walking in to class. But I’ve grown complacent in my heretofore 100% success rate, and now I’ve paid the price.

Frack.

I’m wearing my corduroys, which I have long suspected have an occasional tendency to unzip themselves, but I may have just forgotten to zip up after going to the bathroom. Oh, for a button fly!

It wouldn’t be so bad if I had gone to one of my upper-level courses, since I sit down for those (I run them as seminars). But this was Intro, which has over 30 students, and in a vain attempt to keep their video-game addled brains from drifting into a state of slack-jawed semi-consciousness, I move around and gesticulate quite a bit. Which means I’m right up front for all to see.

Worse, I stand with my hands in my pockets, which affects the surface tension of the fabric over the naughty area. A minute ago I used the bathroom mirror to see what exactly the effect was. Just as I feared, that posture changed the negligible and narrow slit of darkness into a wide-open aperture of embarassment. There might as well have been a giant flashing arrow pointing right at my crotch. It’s a good thing I wore underwear today most of the students were sitting in the back of the classroom.

My Two Cents on San Francisco

Favorite Coffee: Caffe Roma. Probably my favorite coffee ever. We start off every morning with a cappuccino there.

Favorite Bookstore: I’ll stick with City Lights. Each time I go in I find something I like. I liked Black Oak quite a bit, but it has since shut down. I was also quite taken with Cody’s, which I visited for the first time this trip, but their SF branch will be closing soon, too.

Favorite Beer-flavored Gelato: Budweiser gelato at Yoogo. It tastes pretty much exactly how you’d expect it to taste: sweet, with a clear taste of cheap, American beer. Worth sampling, but nothing else.

Least Favorite Beer-flavored Gelato: See above.

Favorite Roni: Rice-a-roni.

Favorite way to get to SF: North up Hwy 1 through Big Sur (of course!).

Favorite place to browse froo-froo gastronomic shops: The Ferry Building. It’s a wonder, and one if its restaurants serves my…

Favorite Grilled Cheese Sandwich: Hog Island Oyster Co.’s “Cowgirl Creamery GCS,” which features fromage blanc, mezzo secco, and gruyere on ciabatta bread. It’s divine. The cheese comes from Cowgirl Creamery, which is also in the Ferry Building.

Favorite Way to Kill an Hour or Two before Dinner: Sharing a bottle of wine with friends in the lobby of the Hotel Cartwright.

Favorite Church: For exteriors, I’ll go with the Church of Sts Peter & Paul, in the North Beach neighborhood. It’s famous for being the site of Joe DiMaggio and Marilyn Monroe’s wedding. For interiors, it’s the Cathedral of St Mary of the Assumption. Rather plain-looking on the outside, the interior is like no other worship space I’ve seen. Imagine what a cathedral would look like in EPCOT center, if it didn’t look hokey. That’s St Mary’s. The runner-up in both categories is Grace Episcopal Cathedral.

Favorite Movie Set in SF: Bogart’s The Maltese Falcon. I also liked Dark Passage, despite the gimmicky beginning.

Least Favorite Movie Set in SF: Star Trek IV: The One with the Whales Voyage Home.

TV Show Set in SF that I’m Most Embarassed for Having Watched More than One Episode: Full House. Let’s just move on.

Favorite Giant Bridge: The Golden Gate Bridge.

Favorite Way to See the Above Mentioned Bridge: On a bicycle, with sunny weather, on the way to Sausalito.

Best Town in the Bay Area Named for a Pepperidge Farm Cookie: Sausalito.

Favorite Site where the Federal Government Has Treated People Like Cattle in the Name of National Security: San Francisco International Airport. Runner-up: Alcatraz.

Favorite Song about SF: Otis Redding’s “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay.” I’m not wild about it, but it’s the best of the bunch.

All-Time Crappiest Song about SF: Starship’s “We Built This City,” a song excelled in crappiness only by their “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now.”

Favorite Guilty-Pleasure Song about SF: Journey’s “Lights.” Alone in the car, I’ll belt out this song and “Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)” in my pitch-perfect falsetto. Am I proud of it? No. Will I continue to do it? Absolutely.

The Best Sentence I've Read Today

From Thomas Hobbes' Leviathan:

"The vain-glory which consisteth in the feigning or supposing of abilities in ourselves (which we know are not) is most incident to young men, and nourished by the histories or fictions of gallant persons; and is corrected oftentimes by age and employment."