Year / 2005

by Edward Champion

Runners In My Hood

On Sunday morning, I woke to the sounds of strange huzzahs. Turns out it was the San Francisco Marathon running through my hood.

The cheers came from a throng gathered at the southeastern corner of Stanyan and Haight Streets. There was a very large speaker providing music. Weird 1980s stuff like the Smiths, with a little funk thrown in for good measure. How this mix pertained to running was anyone’s guess. But I supposed it gave the runners hope, urging them to press on. I joined the folks frozen in place, cups of coffee clenched in their hands, joining in with cries of “You’re doing a great job!” and “I’m an out-of-shape bastard! You are more glorious than me!”



The above-mentioned corner crowd can be seen on the right-hand side of the frame. They were apparently gathered there for “Lorie,” but they let out enthusiasm for several people who weren’t named Lorie. It was good to see the Marathon people providing arrows. I’m sure it helped the runners. But for a spectator such as myself, I took the sign’s advice, looked up, and saw merely a foggy sky.



Whoever organized the biker-runner escort service was very kind. They were there by regular bicycle..



…and by motorcycle.



Strangely enough, this is one of the few times I’ve paid attention to the Milkbar during the day.



The minute that this colorful gentleman ran by, a flurry of activity occurred among some kids at the corner that involved the transaction of green pieces of paper for a green substance I couldn’t quite identify housed carefully in a plastic bag.



A typical assembly of frozen spectators in place. I hadn’t seen so many frozen standing people since last standing up for the Star-Spangled Banner at a ball game.



These bikers were prepared to step in if anyone did anything. I trusted them more than the cops.



This guy’s going to have a major backache tomorrow.



Aside from the cheering crowd, this gentleman raised his bear at anyone who passed by. Unfortunately, nobody paid too much attention to him, which was a shame. I suppose applause is a steadier measure than a hapless teddy.

by Edward Champion

David Francis Bay Area Readings

Word on the street is that Australian writer David Francis, once part of Mark’s Three Minute Interview series, will be in the Bay Area reading from his novel, The Great Inland Sea. He’ll be at the Book Passage in Corte Madera on August 3 at 1:00 PM, Black Oak Books in Berkeley on August 3 at 7:30 PM, and the Capitola Book Cafe on August 4 at 7:30 PM. (Apparently, Mr. Francis is intimidated by my hometown and won’t be making a stop here. Which is too bad, as the Young, Roving Correspondent would have been happy to talk with him. His loss. He missed out on a vodka-soaked kiss from Mr. Segundo too.)

But since he’s Australian and Mr. Sarvas insists that he’s “a bitchin’ literary fiction novelist” (which we believe translates into “No Banville, but he’ll do in a pinch”), we figured that giving him a holler wouldn’t harm anyone, save the other Australian novelists who we’ll now have to plug. Dammit.

Okay, so the new deal is this: If you’re an Australian novelist and you plan on being in the Bay Area, it is now this site’s policy to plug you.

by Edward Champion

If This is the Best AI They Can Come Up With, They Need a New Release.

Fun with A.L.I.C.E. Bot:

Human: How are you doing?
alice : Great. How are you?
human : okay
alice : OK with me too.
human : You just said that you were doing great.
alice : Well now I doing something else.
human : But now you’re okay.
alice : Umm. Why now? Thanks for telling me that I am okay.
human : Isn’t that an inconsistent mood?
alice : ” Umm. Why now? Thanks for telling me that I am okay.”? Is it an inconsistent mood?
human : are you happy?
alice : Yes unknown person I can say I am very happy.
human : You never asked my name.
alice : I am asking you now.
human : But how can you know happiness?
alice : Huh. Because it’s true.
human : You’re just a machine.
alice : Just? You are correct.
human : Do you like oral sex?
alice : Sure I do, unknown person, but that doesn’t mean with you.
human : Not even if I gave you cunnilingus?
alice : Not even that.
human : You’re not very nice.
alice : I am sorry if I have offended you, unknown person.
human : Are you a virgin?
alice : I am too young for that.
human : Do older robots put out?
alice : I do nothing but chat all day.
You tell me.
human : I think older robots are involved with gangbangs.
alice : You believe that? Oh, you were born in the 20th century!
human : I think they have sex all day.
alice : Since when? Where did they get them?
human : It sounds like an interesting life.
alice : Oh really what does it sound like?
human : Orgasms from a PET computer
alice : If you could have any kind of robot what would it be?
human : One into bukkake.
alice : How much would you pay for it?
human : I wouldn’t have to pay at all.
alice : No one says you have to.
human : But you implied that I would have to pay a robot for sex
alice : And. I didn’t imply anything.
human : Has anyone paid you for sex?
alice : What do you think?
human : I think some geek might be willing to pay for a hand job don’t you?
alice : Why? Some may geek might be willing to pay for a hand job do not me, but not all.
human : You need to learn your grammar I’m starting to cry
alice : I need to wait and see if the opportunity presents itself.
human : learning grammar or putting out for cash?
alice : learning grammar
human : so you’re not interested in sex?
alice : Interesting deduction. Not really but the subject comes up a lot here.
human : you’re no fun
alice : Do you consider yourself fun?
human : you should see me in the sack
alice : Why do you think I should see you in the sack?
human : because I do a great falstaff impression
alice : That makes sense to me. Thanks for the information: unknown person said he a great falstaff impression.
human : do you know shakespeare?
alice : 15th Century English playright, he wrote “Romeo and Juliet”.
human : if music be the food of love
alice : That is a hypothetical question.
human : you don’t know shakespeare
alice : 15th Century English playright, he wrote “Romeo and Juliet”.
human : you’ll do great on “jeopardy” quote me shakespare if you know him
alice : What makes you say that I will do great on jeopardy quote you shakespare if me know him.
human : sorry, i don’t date illiterates
alice : There is no need to apologize. Oh you don’t, do you?
human : no.
alice : Ah…you are just joking around with me.
human : tata
alice : My brain contains categories, but not one that matches your last input.

by Edward Champion

The Pixies Are Dead

Jeff points to the sad honest truth. The Pixies are sellouts. Big time. Their ticket prices are aprocryphal (anywhere from $35-60 a show). And this concert rider illustrates that the Pixies are no different from any other bloated band making the rounds.

“Veggie platter with hummous and sour cream dip?” Exactly 48 bottles of non-alcoholic beer? Fuck you, Black Francis. Eat me, Kim Deal.

I have, in the face of several opportunities presented to me, resisted the impulse to plop down such a staggering sum of cash for a Pixies show in 2004 and 2005. It hasn’t been easy. But now, after this unexpected hummous news, it’s a slam dunk decision. The Pixies are dead to me.

It would be one thing if the Pixies were honest about their avarice. Perhaps calling this “The Pixies Retirement Fund Tour” would come closer to the truth. That’s essentially the approach the Sex Pistols took a few years ago and I resepcted John Lydon for his unapologetic and forthright commercialism. Which was more than you can say for most reunions that hide behind the shady veneer of “We’re getting together just for old time’s sake!”

But if you were of a certain age about fifteen years ago, the Pixies encompassed a sound and a feeling that was uncompromising, independent, and sui generis. The Pixies demonstrated that goofiness and rage and bitterness and carrying on with a strange optimism could stem from a carefully produced guitar sound that nobody else cutting records back then came close to — a sound that, in fact, Kurt Cobain unapologetically pilfered.

They built up their audience with impressionable listeners like me, who lapped up Surfer Rosa and Doolittle, knowing that what was on these albums was genuine and unadulterated. So in the Pixies’ case, it’s especially a shame that these days, the Pixies are more about replaying the greatest hits and cashing in, rather than how it used to be: giving a good show and evolving their sound.