Corridor of the Day #2470

Laurel and I had separate days today, but they began and ended in the same place. I went off to climb in the city, then built automated tests for Jacob’s site all evening; Laurel and Barbie went to play with kittens and then watched Netflix together, as they are wont to do.

I left home late tonight to be back here, even though Laurel was just about asleep already. It’s good we’re moving in together soon – it’s hard having a split home like this.

We’ll have trees to welcome us home instead of a hollow corridor, and I think that will be lovely.

talk things through

Drop of the Day #2465

Our office gives us quite a vantage on the city. A few small balconies line one side of the building, and there we can catch a few lungfuls of fresh air and look out over the growing skyline. Below us some inscrutable construction has been underway for longer than I’ve been here; those distinctive rust-colored pipes make it seem that nothing has changed, but it must be quite a different place than it was in December.

Off to the side you can see a mysterious pit dug into the earth; either they are attempting to free some ancient, long-buried beast older than time, or they are building a secret missile silo right in the middle of the financial district.

Whatever the case may be, it’s fantastic to be able to see the city grow here slowly, day by day.

sturm und kong

Climate of the Day #2454

The book I read on my commute has taken a climactic turn, and I was too engrossed in it to realize I had taken the wrong train home until I was out in Orinda, two stops past the last transfer point. I realized my mistake with some surprise but no sense of panic, like musing that the weather had changed, and stepped out onto the platform.

The climate was different out there, warm and clear with trees thick on either side of the road, and I stood for a few minutes reading my book and enjoying a brief taste of summer.

I am getting terribly spacey, it seems, but accidentally taking some time to stand in the sun and read for longer than usual is not bad at all.

a shameless child

Bunker of the Day #2440

In Neal Stephenson’s Snow Crash, most of the world is owned by corporations. Government is in decline; instead of being a citizen of a country, for a reasonable fee you can become a citizen of a corporate chain, such as Mr. Lee’s Greater Hong Kong, and you can expect to be welcome at any of their many locations around the world.

The U.S. government still does exist, though, and they cling tightly to the last of their dwindling power. One of the characters works for them in a massive concrete fortress of an office building – slim windows, a heartless exterior. I didn’t realize it when I was reading the book, but when I pictured those headquarters, this is the building I was imagining.

The Bart takes me by this building every day, and when I pass it I see it as the building from the book, almost as if it were the very same place. All of the peculiarities of that book bleed out from there – the couriers with their unstoppable skateboards, the virtual reality Internet, the pizza delivered courtesy of the American Mafia, the katana-wielding hacker extraordinaire of a protagonist.

I enjoyed the book, but it didn’t resonate with me like some others have, so I was surprised to find that it has established itself in my daily consciousness, if only a little.

What actually happens in this building is a complete mystery to me, but until I learn the truth – which may never happen – it will simply be the last stronghold of a government struggling to stay relevant.

tell it by heart

Rubble of the Day #2434

I used to come to this park when I was very little. It was different then, with a concrete sandbox in the back corners, and no synthetic spider-web for kids to creep on. When I returned from college I discovered that it had changed since my time there, and now the place is being torn down yet again, so that another generation of kids will have their childhood playplace replaced by something new. I feel like a sort of grandpa to the toddlers who will come here next, when the new new playground is built up.

For how many people has this place become a blurry childhood memory? Who remembers it the way I do?

I believe in you

Bottle of the Day #2433

We took a long lunch today to commemorate Xiao’s transferring from another team to ours – something like the workplace equivalent of a marriage feast. On the way there I kept staring up at the buildings, wondering at the personalities their architecture conveyed.

The facades of these skyscrapers are all just masks, of course – the lives inside are hidden completely from the street.

The entrance to the restaurant was plain and innocuous; we were met by a welcome desk, who pointed us to an elevator, and the eight of us stepped into a dark box to be carried up to the next floor. The air of both floors was heavy with incense, and we left the sounds and smells of the street behind when we walked to our tables.

Inside I felt like we were standing in a bottle, or a starship in interstellar space. The walls and ceiling were black, and broad ribbons of blue light lined the front desk and bar. Fish-scale bars lined the windows, and outside, down below, the world was still carrying on its busy city life, silent to us.

Each of these skyscrapers is full of microcosms – it feels so different being on either side of the glass.

nyatiti

Knight of the Day #2419

Something about this looks to me like a knight in heavy armor, like a protective spirit built into the city to protect it in Times Of Need.

This place used to be where we went for Christmas brunch with my grandparents. I liked the waterfall at the center of the building, but it (and the chattering crowd) made too much noise for conversation to be comfortable for me. Before I started my current job, the last time I was here was the Christmas when my grandpa had some sort of attack, and had to leave in an ambulance. I saw him only once or twice more after that.

I’ve been here for lunch a few times since then, but I think this place is always going to feel a little sullen to me.

I didn’t know what to eat for lunch, and stood on the corner for a moment before walking in, past the bold eagle statue. In a glass case was an array of historical tokens, displayed with titles but no context: bits of a cigar box labeled CIGAR BOX | WOOD, a rusted lock and key labeled LOCK AND KEY | BRASS.

They’re doing construction on the street outside. When I came out it looked like they were going to start pouring concrete, and for a moment I was excited to see it. For whatever reason it wasn’t ready yet, and I had to move on, but from a distance I did see the workers do some odd little dances to emphasize their conversation.

a musical sense

Station of the Day #2417

One last dentist visit, and after many years my teeth are now back in fighting form. I left the dentist’s office today with half of my face numb, and as I approached the Bart station a stranger asked if I could help him get a hot dog, even offering to trade me a Bart ticket for it. Through what felt like inflated lips I managed to convey that I had no cash, and he asked me if I had the time to go down to El Pollo Loco for a sandwich, since they accepted cards.

I agreed, and as we walked he said that I looked young and explained that his 58th birthday is this Friday. He gave me some life advice about fighting for myself, and said that I was a nice person and that I shouldn’t let people take advantage of me. When we crossed the street he made an effort to make sure it was safe for me; we crossed another intersection before the Walk sign turned on and he made a joke about breaking the law.

El Pollo Loco turned out to be a seafood restaurant with a completely different name. They were out of oysters, so he ordered a catfish sandwich instead, and I went on my way.

I could barely speak the whole time, but he carried the conversation. It was a good moment, and a strange way to wrap up these dentist visits. I hope the man enjoyed his sandwich.

level up

Path of the Day #2377

I no longer walk through the forest to get to lunch like I did while living at UCSC, and I don’t have waves breaking almost in earshot of my front door anymore, but I still live in a beautiful place. The paths I take in Berkeley to and from work are full of trees with dancing branches, and the sun is thick as honey both morning and late afternoon.

I take these lovely short walks every day, chew on a book on the train, and spend the day tinkering with things until they work to my satisfaction. My biggest problems right now are old software, and when I come back to Berkeley I get to see Laurel.

Things are going so nicely here – it feels so strange knowing about the trouble weighing on the rest of the world.

snoozing and muttering

Anniversary of the Day #2369

The company I work at rented out AT&T Park for its 10th anniversary celebration today. Private buses collected us from the office and drove us down to the stadium, where a great mass of employees was slowly funneling in past security. That first crowd, where we’d come together to wait for the party, was the largest collection of coworkers I saw in one place today; once we entered, the group dissolved across the span of the stadium’s halls, and we were never all together again.

We were given food and drinks and access to the stadium seats, where we could look out at the empty field and watch slideshows of employee photos on the jumbotron.

I’ve only ever been to this stadium for corporate events; perhaps the place feels like hallowed ground for the people who organized the party. I sat and ate my confections, and wondered if the stadium would ever have the same feeling of historical weight as the Roman Colosseum, someday in the distant future.

those things had value