The Robots are Crossing Linden

The supermarket that I and my family visit is about one-thousand feet from our home. We walk unless we're on the way home from points further away and already in the car. Since you can count on two hands the days when the rain has been rough in the last, er, decade, inclement weather generally has no bearing on our grocery store decisions.

So, as was the case, I was making an evening trip to the grocery store. I walk south to Broadway, and then east along Broadway two blocks to Atlantic, where the Vons is. The block between my street, Elm, and Atlantic is Linden. (On a side note, the intersection of Broadway and Linden in downtown Long Beach is my favorite intersection...like maybe anywhere, which is a weird thing to say.)

As I waited to cross Linden at a red light along Broadway, on the opposite sidewalk was what looked like a big rectangular cooler on with serious off-roading wheels. Nice, I remember thinking, have a wheeled cooler would make parts of camping easier. I glanced around on that side of the street for someone getting ready to push it across one the light changed. But then I noticed that it had headlights. Once the light changed, we both started going, me to my coming side, east towards Atlantic and Vons, and it heading west.

What I had originally thought was some kind of pushing handle, was a lit-up touch screen, with four large letters centered on the screen. As we got closer and about to pass each other, I could read these four letters as "Alan."

Alan didn't have any kind of delivery-service company markings anywhere on, eh, it...him? As we passed, I smiled and wanted to say, "Hey Alan, how're you doin?" But I didn't. Would it have been confused? Probably not, but it was doing something, toiling across the street late at night.

As I grabbed the things I needed from the store, I was deep in thought about Alan. Was this Alan a programmable tool? Was it something you said, "Okay, Alan, I need you to go to Vons...get milk and eggs," or "Alan...go to Vons and pick up order #XX-XXXX?" Was it coming from Vons? Was it just a helper machine, and if so, isn't that how all origin stories about AI and the robot-apocalypse start out?

Where was it heading to? Did it have a nice spot to charge it's power core in the apartment of its owner? Could it ever be its own owner? Should it be its own owner? How long before those conversations are had?

I laughed it off---the coming existential crisis about AI and robotics---and marveled at my own lifespan: I'm of that weird in-between generation: too young for Gen-X proper and too old for Millenial...you know, first email account was basically in college, voted in 2000 for Nader, was a twenty-something during the post-9-11 world, now a forty-something parent watching cartoon supervillains taking over the country, AI is a homework cheating app on phones, and robots running errands at all hours of the night.

I mentioned it to Corrie, and she told me about the robot she saw, a taller, trapezoid-looking deal, passing her as she walked home from Vons. Whatta woild, we laughed.

The other night, as we checked out the neighborhood from our balcony, I saw Alan again. At least, I think it's Alan. This time Alan was again crossing Linden, only they were heading east, and was on 3rd, the block up from Broadway in our fair neck of the woods:

I'm not even sure which I want it to be more: is Alan out on a different errand? Maybe mapping out different streets of our shared neighborhood? Or, wait for it, is this a different robot of Alan's type? Are there just a whole slew of robots coming through downtown Long Beach?

Not a terrible decision, by any stretch, except for the feces and urine all over the place and the crowds of unhoused taking up more and more bare sleeping nooks and the occasional unhoused with severe social issues who ends up screaming into the night very loudly and for hours on end, our zone is very cool.

And I doubt Alan would be too bothered by the occasional hours-long scream fest, in any case.

By Its Cover, I Guess

So, what happened was...

I found a new author, or, rather, I finally followed up with some authorial snooping, in the sense that one of my favorite author's (Pynchon) favorite author, Peter Matthiessen, has found his way into my possession. With a Decemberween gift-card I made the purchase of an early favorite of fans of Matthiessen, Far Tortuga:

While I waited for the book to arrive, I learned about "Shadow Country, another Matthiessen novel, and a winner of the 2008 National Book Award. I picked it up too, and it arrived and I'm 200 pages into it. It's a masterpiece.

Matthiessen is a rather badass writer, and the only person to win the National Book Award in both fiction (Shadow Country), and non-fiction, for "The Snow Leopard." Matthiessen was a travel writer, adventurer, philosopher, and Leonard Peltier supporter---he was the white writer that first brought Peltier's plight (getting hosed by the feds) to (white) society at large.

Back to Far Tortuga...why start a 900 page book (Shadow Country) when this book's right here? Well, while Far Tortuga was the first thing I ordered, it was the last thing to arrive. 

That may have been because of how I ordered it. I found a copy that was within a price range that was acceptable. But the cover wasn't necessarily doing it for me (which is silly and weird), so I kept scrolling down the choices on Amazon and found something that suited my feelings a little more. Hence the cover above.

When it got here, I tore open the package and glanced at the back:

Wait...what?

I started thumbing through it...

I did not order the French version! Dammit Amazon!

I went back to check in to my Amazon account and see what I could do...about...wait, what?

So, it turns out I never actually clicked on the cover above's actual sale-page: it was entirely in French. Apparently, I just clicked on the cover, and put that order through without ever examining it closer.

Oops. But now i have a book for Delphine, so that's cool.

Plus, look how cool it looks inside:

I can't wait to get the English version, which I did order and have it coming.

Until then, there's this:

This is actually a reworking of three novels that Matthiessen wrote and published earlier. His original idea was for a single, mysterious, 1500 page book, but the publishers had him break it up. Later in life he put it all back together after editing it and reworking the middle section.

It follows the framework of Edgar J. Watson's murder at the hands of his neighbors. Well, that's the opening scene, anyway. The first section follows that initial gun-down in the street with personal statements and recollections from all the people who either participated or witnessed the events, or were close in some way with Watson. Each person has their own voice and personal schema, and Matthiessen gives each their own distinct life.

The middle section has, apparently since I've yet to get that far, at its center one of Watson's sons as a forty-year-ish-old trying to figure out why his father was killed. The last section is, I hear, Watson retelling his own life story, from start to finish, so the book starts and ends with the same scene, just from different perspectives.

Homey could write, yo.

Urban Coyotes

The first time I remember seeing a coyote in Long Beach was on a drive to work. My normal routes were impacted by street-work, so while driving west on Anaheim Ave, a major thoroughfare on the way out of town over the river and freeways, a coyote was trotting across the major street.

My first thought as I approached was Stray dog? Out here? because we don't really ever see strays. But as I got closer, the silhouette this 'dog' cut became clearer, and it was obvious this wasn't a dog-dog, it was wildlife. There was a large patch of overgrowth under the bridge over the LA river at Anaheim, in an area they'll probably be filling in with condos or apartments soon enough, that I was pretty sure was this coyote's destination. 

It was a nifty encounter. Ever since college I've had a soft spot for coyotes. I've even named a character I put into two different stories Sin-ka-lip (the Salish name for coyote), who is, in case you're wondering, a talking coyote.

Anywho, a few years later, I was driving down one of our neighborhood streets and saw this sight:

So I trailed it for a while, slowly, and at a distance that kept it from taking off. I was far enough away to see who was keeping it company. Guiding, maybe...?

I was able to capture their friend finally in the frame, on top of the streetlight on the left side: a crow. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it. Coyote and crow chilling together in, er, downtown Long Beach. They were literally traveling together, coyote down the middle of the street and crow flying along side, and I got that picture when crow finally perched. 

Raccoons have been a staple of our downtown LB living for years. A family lived under the house next-door when we lived down the street on 3rd, and I've seen them a few times along the rocks at the marina on evening walks. Coyotes, I read, do exist in urban areas still, they're just pretty out of sight. And then I started seeing them...maybe I'm just coyote-blessed.

So, eighteen months later I'm driving to work again, and a stretch of road I drive along (Lomita Ave) has large encampments of unhoused people. Sometimes there are cops and service workers, with dumpsters, sweeping them all away, but that's not a permanent solution. I've written about it before. That area has large-ish wilderness overgrowth area next to the north-south I-110 freeway, closed in on the west and east by the freeway and Vermont Ave, and on the south by Lomita. Check out the Google Map picture, that shows the encampment on the sidewalk:

I wasn't able to get a picture, but it made sense that the unhoused community would draw plenty of attention. A few days later, I was able to get a picture:

Sometimes I get to thinking about my Sin-ka-lip, about what kind iof sage advice he'd have for Fu-tzu, his student, if they were watching one of these camps, or how society at-large treats them.

Coyote's presence can still be felt all over, if you're trying to feel it.

How Much is That Doggy in the Window?

Um...they're not for sale. They're part of the family...

Nighttime, and still lonely. Poor guy. 

I remember experiencing a little anxiety at the view, but dogs are tough, right? And smart.

Political Intrigue in Dinetah

"Dinetah" is the name the locals call the Navajo Nation, the largest reservation in the US:

The dine is what they call themselves (Navajo for "people"). While we drove through the Nation during our Decemberween trip, we stayed in Kayenta (check the map for more detail, like the location of Kayenta, Tuba City, and the tiny hamlet we shopped in while staying in Colorado, Cortez):

I bought a reservation newspaper while we stayed in Kayenta, and read through it with the vicarious view of a mostly informed tourist---informed in terms of knowing structurally what their sovereign government would resemble.

Right on the front page there are three main articles, one with the picture above the fold and story below, on the left; and two on the right, one above the fold and one title above the fold, and all three are connected in various ways.

The story on the left tells the tale of the President and the Vice President's beef, their non-working relationship, about how the VP has accused the President of sexual harassment or misconduct; about howe the President scoffs at those accusations, about how those accusations have arisen from his demands that his VP get work done for the people of the Nation. It tells how the Prez had taken the VP's security detail away, as well as her vehicle. It's pretty crazy.

The top story on the right hand side tells the story of how the Navajo Nation's Attorney General, after completing the investigation into the VP's sexual harassment claims---there were no actions that rose to the level of sexual harassment by the party of the President is the main conclusion---the AG was removed from office by a tight vote of the tribal council.

The article directly below it tells the story of the Nation's first-lady---the President's wife---being appointed the Attorney for Apache County in Arizona. She has acknowledged the peculiarities about the position, especially since the 70% of the county is on the reservation and thus, Navajo Nation land, too. I'm not sure if this matters, but she's not yet 30 years old.

Good for her.

I think this may make for an interesting dramatic movie...Navajo Nation fraying behind the shadow of larger political turmoil; the perseverance of a long forgotten and generally oppressed people amid worse machinations at the federal level...

Maybe just a clearly told story would be captivating enough. I think it makes sense that I may not be the best voice to tell the story...people looking like me have been telling these people's story for far too long.

Movie Traditions

Before we had kids, Corrie would, on New Year's Eve, marathon watch the second of the Lord of the Rings movies---The Two Towers and The Return of the King. We didn't have The Fellowship, so it was never involved.

Anywho, Cass has been interested in knights and armor and battles---because what kid isn't?---and Corrie said, Well, there are these crazy vivid, involved, movies that have monsters, wizards, magic, sword-play, HUGE battle scenes, ghost armies, tiny half-sized people...it's pretty cool! And Cass's eyes went wide and he said: What the sigma are we waiting for (this is new slang for us oldies)?

So, before we left for Colorado, Corrie put on the extended versions of the Lord of the Rings films. The 12 hours of epic movie split nicely over two weeks---somedays we'd watch an hour, others an-hour-and-a-half---always ending for bed or shower at a reasonable place.

I didn't catch all of the extended versions, but from what I did see, some things were filled in, or nuance I was unaware of got explained. Like Aragorn being 87 years old, and being one of the "dudes who live for a few hundred years" typed of humans. I had no idea...

Anywho number two, that left Corrie and I with the desire to watch something new on New Year's Eve, and we had settled on wanting to put eyes on Ivan Reitman's "Evolution" from summer of 2001. We had just driven through the beautiful Glen Canyon area of Utah and Arizona---the site for where the movie takes place---and we quote it regularly...so the decision made sense.

One evening back in the pre-9/11 summer of 2001, Corrie, Tony, and I went to see this movie in the theater, but not in San Luis. We drove down to Arroyo Grande to a tiny single-screen theater (most likely the Fair Oaks Theatre), most likely having been drinking and partaking the whole drive down, only to crack up laughing over and over. I have a soft spot for this movie.

We put it on for the kids, but they weren't as interested as us, so we put it on after they went to bed. I spent some time online after watching it, to see if the online community loves it as much as I do (they decidedly do NOT), and to check specific filming locations and the like.

The third act climax is silly, and the end bad-guy in this essentially Ghostbusters-retooling is, eh, let's say pushing the boundaries of believability, but the physical nature of David Duchovny, Orlando Jones, and Julianne Moor's comedy cracks me up just by thinking about it. The chemistry between Duchovny and Jones in the small moments ("Ready for lunch Harry? Or...have you already eaten?"), or just Orlando Jones line reads ("God gave you two goddamned hands for a reason!"; "We're just trying to look after these little guys, your majesty!") or to him ("This is not a nightclub!") or Arizona's governor, played by Dan Ackroyd, ("Somebody take this bag of snakes and lay them out straight for me.") provide endless quotes for Corrie and me. And I haven't even mentioned Sean William Scott ("I do this!"; not a quote, but his face upon hearing his terrible boss was killed by a monster is priceless.)

After purchasing a new DVD player, I hope to return this movie to our rotation. It could make for a nice New Year's Eve movie, but I wouldn't want it to only get seen once a year. If you haven't seen it, I would say it's worth your time, but I also understand the main complaints about it.

The times, though, when it came out were the height of frivolity in America---the pre-9/11 summer of 2001. It's from a different era, and it takes me back there, which may be why I still adore it so much.

Part 7: Vegas, Baby!

(Sigh)

Limping into Vegas wasn't part of the plan. But it was a necessity. The drive would have been too far, and we wanted to show the kids the lights. But then sickness was all around, and gambling was all around, and smoking was all around, and it was a bit surreal.

We did make sure the kids were feeling okay enough to go have an hour's worth of date night, just me and Corrie, walking around, drinking, playing some blackjack. We showed Cass how to call me on Corrie's phone---we set up my number as an emergency contact---and left the kids to watch TV. They did fine and there was no issue, and we had our own little fun time.

Before that, I took Cass to walk around and see some lights, and they didn't diasappoint:

"You can't park your car here!"

I had a sound byte playing in my head often as we walked around, the scene where Johnny Depp is trying to leave his car under lights like the ones above at an early point in 1998's Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, and the attendant is yelling at him. I must have said it dozens of times, much to Cass's bewilderment.

We did try to catch some of the circus acts, but they were sporadic, not at the time's posted, and not the things that were supposed to be happening. Oh well, but check out the thick balance/contortionist with the ball, cool stuff!

We grabbed some cash to gamble with, but seeing all the tables were full, we dropped a twenty into a fancy looking slot machine, and before we could figure out just the hell was happening, we were down to six bucks, and couldn't wager anymore. We hit teh CASH OUT key and it spit out a voucher like the one below.

Corrie went to use the bathroom, and I put the six dollar voucher into a machine like cash, and played until I couldn't bet anymore. I won, and lost, and won, and lost, but the winning never amounted to much, and in the end, the CASH OUT button was pressed, and the following six cent voucher was spit out.

We joked that it would have been funny to go turn it in at the window and collect that nickel and penny, but decided to give it to Cass as a keepsake, a reminder of the realities of gambling. Twenty bucks to six cents in a matter of minutes.

We lost the rest of our money faster, once the blackjack table opened, and then we left, laughing all the way back to the room. We had a set amount of money we were comfortable essentially setting on fire, enjoyed the experience, and went back to the room. I could see a scenario where I did some sports betting, but...

The next day, after agreeing not to go visit our old friends, we bombed it back to Long Beach. Cass barfed in the car, and Corrie was sick that night at home. We're still not completely clear even now. Sheesh...

The trip was awesome and magical, but the last fifty hours were a bit rough, and we're still shaking it off, even now, nearly a week later.

In for a penny, in for a pound, I suppose!

Happy Decemberween Holidays!