The story of Bilbao is a dull and rather existentialist one full of ennui and lonesome misery in the endless rain, which I can’t rush through. I will try to give it justice sometime tomorrow, but really think it’s more likely to spark a novel.
Right now, I’m in a better mood after rejoining my friends in Barcelona. I’m even grateful to be back in Raval, because the muslims store owners see no reason to shut down on Easter Sunday, unlike all the devout Catholics driving this country deeper into financial ruin by taking damn near an entire week off for Easter. Speaking of which, I finally went to church in Barcelona! 😉 Paddock Motard Bar (which I happen to live very close to, and you’ve read about before here), was open for Sunday services: to show the MotoGP races. They had set out all the chairs they had in rows facing the TV’s and the place was packed with rabid fans watching the 125 race when I arrived. It was awesome! Everyone was going crazy, and it felt so damn good to be somewhere in Spain where Easter didn’t seem to be bringing life to a grinding halt. However, mother nature brought MotoGP to a slippery halt, as it was rained out. grrrr. It rains like 4 days a year in Qatar, and it seems those 4 days are always when the GP is in town! They actually had to cancel the race because they run it at night to show off some fancy lights. The problem is: bright lights + rain = zero visibility. pffft. do it in tha daytime, people!
I’m more interested in keeping my eyes on the prize. Whenever I need a boost, looking at real estate in LA makes me happy. It’s a pleasant way of daydreaming about what I want in life, thinking about where I want to live next. So today’s entry is this third floor loft in the fabulous Barker building. I went to a party at a friend’s loft there in August (which feels like a million years ago) and fell in love with the place. The sexy rooftop pool/spa, the Urth caffe across the street, the whole downtown arts dist. vibe. Love it. Would sacrifice a private garage for it…
Salvation through water. SPA. cool! I wonder if that’s actually how the word Spa was derived. Anyway, this hotel I’m staying at in Bilbao has the most awesome Turkish bath, filled with circus people. OK, so the circus (du Soleil!) people are hotel guests like me, but it’s still interesting. This Italian acrobatics coach invited me to dinner after the show, but since it didn’t include a free trip to see Varekai (again) I demurred. He’s old enough to be my dad, ok. I did, however, talk up my niece, as she is a killer gymnast, and could totally own Cirque Du Soleil.
More later, gotta get out and enjoy this gorgeous day!
As you can see, there are not nearly as many WSB fans in Spain as there are MotoGP fans. Only about 43,000 people turned up, so the cheap seats were totally empty. And I could hobble up the day before the race and buy one of the good seats. Sure felt good being able to do that.
Wow! So I’m catching up on my horoscopes, and this is amazing. I actually followed Brezny’s advice without even realizing it. The dogma was that I am too cool to ride a scooter. I finally relented and rented one (with a nudge from Britt, if she hadn’t suggested it, I might not have done it). And what’s changed about my worldview is that I can actually enjoy getting from point A to point B even though I am the slowest guy out there. While some of you have survived being passengers in a car driven by me, none of you know what goes on inside my helmet at a red light. I filter to the front, thinking nasty thoughts about what a bunch of tools these cagers all are, especially the idiots in North Carolina who honk at me as I neatly cut through the lanes. Losers. And I am appalled beyond belief at just how excrutiatingly slowly people pull away from a light, especially in North Carolina. In Barcelona, of course, people drive the way people should drive the world over. Fast. No dilly-dallying. So I thought I would need to be on my fast bike to enjoy riding here. But I’m on the slowest thing ever, and I’m actually digging it. AND I actually arrive calmer because I’m not freaking out over how slow everyone is the whole way there.
I’m glad that Pythagoras’ dogma was shattered because everyone knows mere numbers can’t provide the ultimate truth about reality. pffft.
ARIES (March 21-April 19): Ancient Greek philosopher Pythagoras is
known as “the father of numbers.” He taught that mathematics provides
the ultimate truth about reality. His otherwise productive career went
through a rough patch when one of his students found that the square
root of two is an “irrational” number that can’t be expressed as a simple
fraction. “Impossible!” said Pythagoras. His system was built on the axiom
that there are no such numbers. Yet he couldn’t refute the student’s
proof. By some accounts, Pythagoras had the student drowned for his
impunity. The brilliant theorist couldn’t deal with the threat to his dogma.
I bring this to your attention, Aries, because you have an opportunity to
do what Pythagoras couldn’t: accept the evidence that your beliefs about
reality are limited, and incorporate the new data into a revised worldview.
1- It’s a Bodum french press (the Kleenex of french presses)
2- It’s personalized with whatever 2D object(s) you want in there. Mine, of course, is Rossi
But best of all-
3- It’s a travel mug, and not just another BS “only works in a car” travel mug either. This bad boy can be shaken, upside down, and still retain all it’s contents. Which means it might even survive 30 minutes in the trunk of my motorcycle. I’d duct tape the spout for extra security, but just to keep it shut. the seal on it is airtight.
I have been exploring the full line of Bodum ever since I got sick and tired of replacing the damn glass every time I brushed it against a pillow. I guess I’m not the only one who got sick of those fragile things, because the Bodum store in Paris (and their website as well) has a lovely selection of metal and plastic presses.
What will they think of next???