So yesterday I made a post, and while putting on the finishing touches (after-post typos), it inexplicably disappeared into the ether. This has happened with a few of my posts here, which is one of many reasons I haven’t been committing my experiences to blog post in a while. Happily, I was able to salvage the text of the post via my Greader. Sorry if this post is a repeat for those of you with a feed. It wasn’t my fault, blame the gremlins!

Gloves. They’re fucking everywhere in the winter. I have many fantasies in which I pick up every glove that I see lying in the road or snugged over a fence post and open a small warehouse (sort of like the Garment District’s Dollar-A-Pound) where people can come hunt for their long lost glove or mitten. Or in some less frequent instances, shoe. Sadly, I am too lazy. However, I do feel as if there is some kind of mystic force that keeps me from ever having to buy a pair for myself. My last pair was given to me by my mother, who found them in a snowdrift by the side of the road in Gloucester, MA last year. They are now however much the worse for wear.

Exhibit A

If you think the outside looks bad, you should feel the sticky, shredded inside. Yeck.

So for a few weeks I have had my eyes peeled for a stray pair in need of a new home. I had decided, literally TODAY on my ride to work, that I would have to suck it up and buy a pair of new gloves as no karma gloves seemed to be forthcoming, when these beauties appeared on the sidewalk between my office and my cafe in the little village of Brookline.

I looked around but there was nobody in sight. Just me, and my new pair of cosmically bestowed handwarmers.

Thanks, universe!

The Cambridge PD can suck it.

So it finally happened. I proceeded carefully through a red, after stopping, along Mass Ave in Cambridge and lo, two buzzcut headed bullies in blue stopped me and tried to ticket me. Natch, I got out of it, though I’m not going to say how. What I will say is this; don’t try to out run them. They have motorcycles, and they will be pissed if they have to exert themselves, the chubby bastards. Also, don’t try to out talk them. Like most authority figures, it’s a lost cause to try and reason with them logically. Just out think them. It’s not that hard.

Good luck, my fellow rogues!

Greetings, dear readers. Sorry I left you stranded for so long. It is once again September, which means another summer is over, I am a year older, and the Burning Man cycle has drawn to a close. It’s been alternately a very fun and exciting year and a slow, stressful, painful one. I’m happy to say that I learned a few things, though I won’t bore you with the details. What I will do is show you some pictures from the Burn. Hopefully I’ll be able to keep up this blog a little more consistently this year. I’m still working on the same activism issues I was last time around, but at this point bureaucracy has ultimately failed me. You may be seeing fewer interviews or email correspondence and an increased number of mug shots. I’m sure there won’t be any complaints. Anyhoo, let’s roll this pumpkin!

This was my favorite Mutant Vehicle - a giant scorpion with flame-throwing claws and stinger.

This one isn't bigger on the inside, but it was big enough for our purposes.

Reunited with the kids of Camp Here. You can't find a better group of people on the playa.

Reunited with the beloved hammock where Crash and I fell in love. <3

Squirt gun: check. Boffer sword: check. Bring it.

Gutternaught the chopper returns to the desert in all her creaky, badly lubed glory.

This year I camped with some of my old friends from SCUL. This edifice is the brainchild of MegaSeth, second from the left.

I truly wish that the Hero video camera I was trying out to document my commute had been powerful enough to take quality video/audio for more than 20 minutes at a time. I see some weird shit on my daily journey, and it’s inconvenient to whip out my cell phone, since weirdness is fleeting and phone cams take forever to boot.

On Monday, I believe it was, I nearly rolled over a hand grenade lying in the middle of Mass Ave between Porter and Harvard.

This one, to be exact.

I didn’t think much of it beyond, “oh hey, that’s a hand grenade. It’s probably fake”.  Apparently more cautious folk reported it as ‘suspicious’ later on.

A day later, while cruising through Harvard Square, I witnessed a dogfight. Not that interesting except that the dogs in question were in two separate cars, stopped side by side at a red light. I laughed my balls off at that one.

Today wasn’t very interesting aside from the caravan of entitled asshats who were parked in the bike lane outside 65 N. Harvard St. in Allston. That’s right, the causway of death, which even on a good day is lousy with giant, jangling trucks, speeding yuppies and oblivious Harvard jaywalkers.

This is the last car in a line of three parked in the bike lane waiting to pick up their special snowflakes.

I had a bit of time to kill, so I spent it calling the BPD and reading off make/model/plate, while the drivers berated or begged me. My favorite was the european woman in the gold Toyota minivan, who shrieked, “Yes, yes I was in the wrong but I see that now, I won’t do it again. I swear I won’t do it again!”. Adorable.

I waited for a good ten minutes, while the traffic beeped and cursed around these model citizens (I blocked them off so they couldn’t leave, and why not, they blocked me first.) but when the police hadn’t shown up by then, I gave up. I’d say “There’s never a cop around when you need one.” but that is entirely untrue. Just last week, on this same stretch, a man got out of his car to rant at me and call me a prick for calling the cops on him. As we were shouting at each other, a calm and collected Harvard cop strolled up next to us to observe. During a break in our diatribes, he simply stated, “Sir, she’s right. Please move your car.”  I could have hugged him, I was so happy. But instead I thanked him profusely as the gentleman went on his way. Small miracles, right?

I’m not sure how to ultimately combat illegal parking on this strip aside from constant diligence and aggressive vigilantism. It won’t work, because I rarely see the same drivers twice, but at least it gives me something to look forward to during my commute.

I had an amazing day today with Ltrain and Racheline: we dressed up as the Mad Hatter, March Hare and Doormouse and rode our bikes to the Boston Common for the Palin Tea Party Rally. On the way we sang a gut-wrenchingly horrible acapella rendition of Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody, and boggled the minds of many a driver and pedestrian. Sadly, it seems that we got there after much of the brouhaha had died down. Though we did find our Mad Tea Party friends and had a lovely spot of tea and some finger foods on the common, we did not get yelled at or menaced by the raging halfwit Palin supporters. We also got photographed by about three thousand people – it turns out we were the ONLY full set of Mad Wonderlanders in the crowd, and they loved us! I can’t wait to find my own picture on some horrible Red State blogroll.

Google finally instituted a biking option into maps!

<3

On a less cheerful note: apparently all the sweat we’ve put into taking the MBTA to task is going straight down the drain. I had to report three different buses yesterday alone; one for a red light run in Somerville, one for stopping in the very center of the lane on Mass Ave. to let riders off, and one for crushing me into the curb as it passed me and hooked a fast right into a bus stop.

Needless to say I am UTTERLY disappointed and disgusted. Obviously there has been no company wide alert as to the lack of attention to safe driving. Hell, for all we know NOTHING HAS BEEN DONE AT ALL. I demand we have evidence of action on the part of the MBTA. I was told by a representative of the MBTA yesterday that drivers are REQUIRED to give you their Identification number when you request it. Why then, if I am reporting a crime by a bus or route, can I not receive an email with the identification number of the driver I reported, and follow up information as to what steps were taken to reprimand the driver for their crime?

I don’t see that any improvement will be made until the MBTA, in it’s entirety, is held accountable for every crime committed by every operator of every vehicle. Please, if you see a crime or an infraction of MBTA operational regulations, report it immediately, and keep a copy of the acknowledging email.

The Story

You heard me right. I loathe to even think about watching myself blither incoherently on television, but that’s what’s going to happen tonight on WBZ-TV, channel 4 in Somerville. The 11pm news will be running a special report about the MBTA’s neglect of traffic laws, among other things, and they’re using excerpts from my interview last Friday. Yikes!

At least we’re getting the issue out there, YAAAAY!

…what beautiful music they make! This morning I passed a road bike that was making a noise like a jackhammer. I suddenly realized, now that my ears had perked up, that I was not being followed by a flock of Starlings, but that my chain was making the most horrific squeaking noises I’d ever heard NOT coming from a bird. Luckily I’ve already got a neon green replacement chain for poor, salty Krankenberry to wear once the winter is over. We’re not that lucky yet – apparently two storms are on the way for this week, with a mixture of snow and rain… my favorite! Hopefully these fronts flop like that last ‘Noreaster’, and I won’t have to pull out my Gore-tex.

In other news:  All this PR work is making a dent in the MBTA!

I had an interview last night with Kathy Curran and Elsie Nolan, from WBZ-TV & TV38 about the rash of reckless driving by employees of the MBTA, and specifically buses along Route 66. It was a short interview, so I didn’t have time to cover much more than I’ve already delved into with Zero Combustion, but I did demand accountability, transparency and visible action by the MBTA. In interesting news, apparently Kathy and Elsie were privy to information that I was not – namely that the driver of one of the buses involved in my complaints was suspended for three days – this is the information John Houghton of Cabot Garage gave WBZ-TV anyway. It’s a far more satisfying reaction than ‘will be disciplined for his actions’, or ‘will seek retraining’, which is what I was repeatedly told.

No matter what, this means we are making headway! Keep calling the MBTA! Keep dialing 911 and reporting the Speedy Parasite! Ride tall and damn it, ride safely!