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Categories: all aviation bicycle gadgets misc motorcycle theater
Mon, 29 Jun 2009
New bars make all the difference
I installed new handlebars on the CL175 this weekend, as you can see above. I just came back from the first test-ride with them, and it is amazing the difference they make. The bike feels more solid, control feels more positive, my arms are much less stressed due to the levers finally being aimed right. It even felt faster, although that had to be 100% perception, because the bike's performance hasn't changed. Certainly more sporty. So that's very positive news. The bars are the $25 Street Master bars you see at every motorcycle shop, the Drag model. I'll assume they mean drag racing, and not drag queens. I had to drill and mill the bars a bit to accomodate the internal wiring used by the CL175 -- the wires from the switch pods run through the handlebars, plus there's a locating pin in the switch pods to keep the wires from getting pinched due to pod rotation or sliding. I would have been happier with the pods and grips further inboard, for a narrower profile, but as a practical matter, they had to be out that far for everything to fit. My knees are now a bit in the way for sharp turns out of driveways or other slow-speed maneuvers, but I think the peg relocation will solve that pretty easily, so that's probably the next step. I have all the pieces, just have to start making them. I'm very pleased with this change, the CL175 is even more appealing to ride, now, and I think the new pegs and new seat I have planned will contribute even further. It's so nice when a change works the way you want it to! Posted at 13:15 permanent link category: /motorcycle Fri, 26 Jun 2009I just uploaded some new video to YouTube for the first time in quite a while. This time, it was footage from a practice session on June 13th, where I was following a new rider around to see what help she might need. Not much, as it happened, and it was nice to be able to record her as well, so she can see what was happening. Thus, with no further ado: Posted at 11:23 permanent link category: /motorcycle Sun, 21 Jun 2009I had a surprisingly full day yesterday, but I had the camera with me the whole time, and ended up taking a few pictures as long as I was around and about. Let's peruse, shall we?
Posted at 10:29 permanent link category: /misc Sat, 20 Jun 2009I was asked to work on a photo shoot for Spin the Bottle Jr. this weekend, and Bret specifically wanted a fisheye effect they used for a previous show. So I went out to Glazer's and rented a fisheye lens. A fisheye is something I've wanted to play with for a long time, but could never justify. They're pricey lenses: I found a used one for $450, and the new ones run for $650 and up. So the opportunity to rent one was more than I could pass up. So without further ado, let's move on to the pictures, shall we? 
Myself as a terrifying troll-person (photo by Liz Cortez) And that's only what I came up with in the first few hours of my temporary ownership of a fisheye lens... Posted at 08:58 permanent link category: /misc Thu, 18 Jun 2009The following day dawned, and I was starting to figure out which bus I needed to catch to be at the courthouse on time. My daily stair-climb performed, I dropped into the jury room, where we socialized for a while. The court sessions seemed to start between 5 and 15 minutes late pretty regularly, so we usually had a fair amount of time to chat. The big witness the state presented this day was Danielle, the alleged victim of the crime currently under question. There may have been a witness before Danielle, but the even was unmemorable. Danielle turned out to be a 28 year old woman who arrived at the courtroom in a heather grey ARMY sweatshirt and sweatpants, and clearly 8 months pregnant. As we learned, this would be her fifth child. We got some preliminaries out of the way, and then it was down to the story. Danielle's story was pretty much the same one the prosecution had outlined in the opening statements. There were a few little detail differences, but none of them were substantial, amounting to things like confusion about exact times, or exact words spoken: things I wouldn't expect to remember. What was interesting to me was the prosecutor's final question: "And how did this event make you feel, Danielle?" This after she'd described all the things that had happened: meeting up with Larry, chatting, driving unexpectedly to the abandoned house in the alley, the attack, the asthma attack she faked to get him away, and his leaving with her purse. She immediately teared up, and described how she now always looked over her shoulder, and couldn't get close to a man, and how much it had affected her life. The defense attorney of course objected to the question, but was quickly overruled by the judge. The striking thing about this last little bit, and everyone on the jury noticed it, was that Danielle had only gone about four months between the attack she described and becoming pregnant. It couldn't have been that hard to get close to a man again, apparently. When the defense attorney stepped up to cross-examine Danielle, he was almost visibly licking his chops. He barraged her with questions, and she answered pretty well, but several times he succeeded in confusing her (he was confusing us too, which seems like a bad move in a jury trial), and she finally got upset at the treatment. The major points of contention were how she and Larry had first met at 3 AM, whether they'd met at this convenience store ("The African Store" everyone kept calling it, although it was just a convenience store run by Ethiopeans, who had a small section of African products), whether they'd traded numbers, and so on. He certainly produced some inconsistency in her answers. I can't say that I honestly recall any witnesses between Danielle and the end of the state's case. There may have been another police officer or two, but they were unmemorable at this distance of a few weeks from the event. As I said before, all the police testimony boiled down into nearly identical stories from slightly different angles. The practical upshot of this testimony was that I was left with the impression of someone who hadn't told the whole story. She seemed sincere enough, but there were a few little gaps that left me wondering what she was omitting. She didn't come across as particularly smart -- the state attorney had described her as "street smart," (apparently in Danielle's own words), but that didn't really come across. She actually seemed to be a remarkably naive, unintelligent woman, for whom those weaknesses finally settled catastrophically in the form of this attack. At the end of all this testimony, and as the state rested its case, I had a hard time imagining how Larry was going to get out of this one. I mean, really, it would have to boil down to his word against hers, except that all the evidence available supported her story. I hadn't come to a decision, but I was also curious to see how the defense would try to recover from all this. This seems like a good place to stop. Up next, the defense's shocking case! Posted at 12:01 permanent link category: /misc Wed, 17 Jun 2009This is something that's interested me for some time. Take the phrase, "I cried myself to sleep." As a phrase, it's a bit evocative. It connotes sadness, and in the empathetic individual, might give rise to a certain amount of actual emotion. But how does it compare to reality? How do those five words really compare to the hot wash of emotion, the choked-up throat, the burning intensity of eyes filling with tears and splashing, hot and unbidden down the cheeks? Where is the pungent, cathartic unbottling of emotion which caused this event in the first place? How does it describe the slow descent into restless, saddened slumber, or awaking to a bleary hopelessness in the black of night? Even this entire paragraph only captures a shadow of the real event. For all that we have an evocative and flexible language, we rarely actually make use of it. When we do, it really only presents a thin mockery of the actual emotions and events described. How much better would it be (and, also, how much worse) if the full import of emotions and feelings could be described? (Can you tell I've been reading overwrought classic novels again? Really enjoying Jane Eyre.) Posted at 14:04 permanent link category: /misc Tue, 16 Jun 2009A friend mentioned this flourless chocolate orange cake. I have to say, that looks really good. I may have to give it a try... Posted at 16:46 permanent link category: /misc Mon, 15 Jun 2009According to the timing information at mylaps.com (our clever new timing system's website) I've set a new personal record: a 2:14.443 lap at Pacific Raceways. I'm definitely getting better. I just wish I had anyone else to race with -- everyone else is way ahead of me. Posted at 10:57 permanent link category: /motorcycle Tue, 09 Jun 2009In a shocking twist, I've signed myself up to perform, on a stage, without a musical instrument. I've done this before, but it's not a common event. In 3rd grade, I played Schroeder in "You're a Good Man Charlie Brown." I couldn't tell you how I did. It was 3rd grade. I'm impressed I memorized all my lines. The only other non-musical performance I've done was perhaps 5 years ago, at a Neither/Nor cabaret night, a now-defunct event put on by the now-defunct Bald Faced Lie. I did a dramatic reading of the Time Travel Spam, set to a too-loud Yello track (tech rehearsal? what's that?). That went pretty well, aside from the fact that some people couldn't hear me over the music. Other than that, I played and performed cello in an orchestra from 3rd grade on. So, I'm not exactly a stranger to getting up on stage and performing, but it's not something I've done solo very much. The other twist, and the one that I am assured changes the game, is that I'll be reading my own work. It's a story I started writing about a year ago, and never finished. I was writing it on my oh-so-clever Alphasmart Dana (the device on which I wrote two of my novels), and ended up leaving it to sit for a while. Bad choice: the Dana has the old Palm Pilot habit of wiping its memory if the batteries run all the way down. Oops. So that first draft of the story went away. Suddenly, this weekend, I was inspired to try writing it again. This was a good choice: the first draft was getting longer and longer, and I couldn't figure out how to reign it in. I'd imagined a short story, and it was getting into novella territory. When I wrote it again, with a very conscious audience of Spin the Bottle, brevity came much more easily. The final story (which I will publish after I've read it, currently scheduled for September 4th) is only about 1500 words, and includes all the elements of the first draft. A very pleasing outcome for me. That's more like what I wanted in the first place. On top of all that, it times out to about eight and a quarter minutes when I read it aloud, and Spin the Bottle has a 10 minute limit. Perfect. The story is to be read in the final slot of the evening, which is traditionally reserved for smut. What I wrote is pretty tame for smut, but it's much more risque than my normal subjects. It's a nice diversion from my normal topics. But, the problem, I am assured, is that reading your own work is a completely different ball of wax from reading what someone else wrote. I can't see it, but I'm also not a performer, particularly compared to Bret Fetzer, who gave me this warning. He's read dozens and dozens of his own stories on stage, so I assume he's got a slightly better handle on it than I do. So if I get a strange gleam in my eye and dive for my bag when we're hanging out, chances are excellent that you're about to get a preview of the story, and I'm about to try my hand at reading in front of an audience. Assuming we've got eight and a quarter minutes free, of course. Posted at 23:26 permanent link category: /theater Mon, 08 Jun 2009The crunch time came on Wednesday morning: we were seated in the jury box, and there were no more dismissals for cause. One by one, the lawyers dismissed people who they didn't want, for whatever reason. I felt something like my internal pressure rising with each one, expecting to relase of being selected, but with each, "Your honor, the defense would like to thank and excuse juror number 19," that passed by, I was skipped over. Finally, both sides agreed they were satisfied with the panel, and to my amazement, I was still sitting there. The rest of the jury pool filed out of the courtroom, and I assessed the situation: of the original group I'd sat down with, perhaps 8 remained, and another 6 had been added from the extras, for a total of 14. We'd all sit on the case, and two alternates would be selected at the end, and dismissed, to be called up if for some reason someone had to drop out from the primary group. Opening arguments started without any delay. The state prosecuting attorney went first, and outlined the basic scenario: a woman (who we'll call Danielle) met a man (let's go with Larry) at a store called The African Store. They conversed, and she naively traded numbers with him. Larry was sitting next to his defense attorney, and it was hard to imagine who would trade numbers with him, but I'm not Danielle. They met a couple of weeks later, Larry hailing her from across the street at 3 AM on July 5th last year. They talked for a bit, then he invited her over to have drinks at his place in Fremont. She got in his car, and he headed the wrong direction, turned too soon, and was suddenly parked in a dark alley. Finally her spidey sense started tingling, and she walked away quickly. He called after her, got agitated, and followed. She tried to calm him down, and managed to at least get them back out on the main road. Unfortunately, at this point, it all went very wrong, and he dragged her down an embankment, his finger poised to poke out her eye, his arm around her neck. This was the point at which the attempted rape occurred, and he tried to force her to perform oral sex on him. She refused, and was dragged to another spot where he threw her in the blackberry bushes, stole her purse, and ran away. The police found him about an hour later, after Danielle called 911. She got a huge response, eventually having 5 or 6 police cruisers parked along the sidewalk, and a K9 unit called out to search for Larry. He was found half a block away, hiding in the bushes, still clutching her purse. He even tried to wrestle the dog, putting it in a headlock, receiving several nasty bite wounds into the deal. The defense opening statement was considerably less memorable. He didn't necessarily disagree with the scenario outlined, but he raised some important questions, which would become clearer during the rest of the trial. In short order, we had our first witness, one of the police officers who responded to the scene. It was a little strange, the first cop we listened to didn't have a whole lot to do with it -- he was the second officer to respond, and didn't really have any contact with Danielle. He did find Larry's car, and helped out a bit, but he didn't have a whole lot to say. Next up was the investigator who would take over the longer-term case, who interviewed Danielle the following Monday. She talked about how Danielle had acted, and what she said in statements. Nothing remarkable, really, just confirming the story we already knew. The defense attorney cross-examined her, and drove home the point that everything she knew came from Danielle's account of events. There followed a bewildering array of police officers, who have all melded into my memory into one meta-officer who took the stand, explained his or her job to the prosecuting attorney, and stated the same facts over and over again. The dog acted this way. The defendant was found clutching a purse and a $50 bill. The scene of the incident appeared this way. The victim had these injuries. The defendant fought with the dog. And where possible, the defense lawyer stepped in and reminded us that except for the physical evidence they saw, the whole story came from Danielle. We finished for the day, having only been sent away once or twice. The defense attorney repeatedly asked to see the judge at the sidebar, for a quiet conversation out of the jury's hearing (to clarify some point of law, I assume, or to give the defense attorney a talking-to when he was being obnoxious). Finally, the judge gave up and just sent us out when he started asking for a sidebar conversation. Some time that day, I had pulled out the cheap deck of cards that lives in my shoulder bag, and taught everyone on the jury how to play Hosenabe (or Pants Down), a game which was readily accepted, and became our primary pastime when we were sent back to the jury room. It's simple and easy to play, while still being involved enough that it's not brainless. By this time, I'd also cemented my habit of taking the stairs instead of the elevators. Unlike at work, where there are only four floors including the parking garage, I entered the courthouse on the 1st floor, and attended court on the 8th. These are courthouse floors, too, so they're no mere 10 feet per floor: each floor is about 20 feet tall, so I climbed about 160 feet straight up, twice a day. The rest of the jury got used to me showing up winded, and I didn't feel like such a complete slug. I couldn't bike to the courthouse, due to a lack of safe bike parking, so the stairs kind of made up for the 10 miles a day I suddenly wasn't riding. Up next, we meet Danielle. Posted at 17:05 permanent link category: /misc Sun, 07 Jun 2009I was just looking through my pictures from the latest Spin the Bottle at Annex, and came across this gem:
Haven't been to Spin the Bottle yet? You're missing some good stuff. Posted at 10:33 permanent link category: /theater Sat, 06 Jun 2009If you've been following me on Facebook, you'll know that I've been in jury duty for the last few weeks. Since May 20th, in fact. The first few days were uneventful. The most interesting thing that happened was that I was selected for a 5-week trial (yikes) but was dismissed for not being able to reasonably take 5 weeks off work. For all I know, they're still looking for jurors on that one. Then I was selected for another jury on the morning of the second day. I was kind of hoping not to be selected, but such is life. I went up to the courtroom, and ended up sitting in the box. That was Thursday. A bunch (maybe 75%) of the jury pool was dismissed for various hardship reasons, most to do with precarious job situations. There were perhaps 20 of us left by the end of the day, and the judged called an end to things a bit early. We didn't have to be back until the next Tuesday, since Memorial Day fell on the Monday. Tuesday arrived (after an interesing and eventful trip to Spokane for racing, a story which is currently underway, don't worry, I haven't forgotten it), and I was still sitting in the box -- in the jury box proper, and so definitely on the jury unless bumped for some reason. However, by my reckoning, I was also in an excellent position to be bumped. I was undecided whether I wanted to sit on the case. We knew it was a criminal case, so at least it wouldn't be two greedy jerks suing each other for a gazillion dollars over some worthless trifle. Finally, we started on the Voir Dire process, which is where the lawyers ask questions of the jurors to weed out those they don't want to sit on the trial. This was done with the Donahue method, which doesn't actually involve walking around a TV audience with a microphone, but the method is somewhat similar. Each lawyer asked questions of the whole group of jurors (all 50 or so of us, the 12 in the box, and the rest of the pool sitting in the audience). For instance, since the trial was (we now knew) at least related somehow to rape, we were asked about how we'd feel if a man was falsely accused of rape. The defense attorney in particular spun crazy, hard-to-follow theoretical situations then tried to pressure jurors into making judgement calls on them. One such situation was that a given juror had a really nice pen, and another juror decided to take it, then he asked a bunch of questions which were so off-kilter that I don't even remember what they were, but they inspired everyone on the eventual jury to label him as a douchebag, and worse. The attorneys were interesting, in and of themselves. Aside from presenting this douchebag persona through the trial, the defense attorney reminded me of a combination of two Simpsons characters: Lionel Hutz (incompetent lawer), toned down to about 50%, and Dr. Marvin Monroe (a doctor who was killed off in the first few seasons). He looks like the doctor, and acts a bit like the lawyer. His arguments were objected to regularly by the prosecutor, and mostly upheld by the judge. His presentation was somewhat pandering and could be quite condescending. Fortunately, although we agreed in our sentiment for him, the jury didn't let this influence the facts of the case. The prosecuting attorney reminded me of the women you see on local news channels, presenting the weather or anchoring -- blond, skinny, but strangely unattractive. She even had the perfectly straight, bottle-blond bob. Appearance aside, she presented a much more competent-seeming case, and the defense's occasional and clumsy objections were usually overruled. We agreed in the jury room, once we were allowed to discuss it, that her case could have used improvements too. Still, she seemed much more professional and upstanding than the defense attorney. You may have noticed that I've mentioned no names, and I don't intend to. Obviously, some of what I'm writing is not complimentary, and I don't see any reason to connect unkind words like these with people who are doing their jobs as well as they can. I also don't want to refrain from describing the full experience, so this seems like a good compromise. Finally, we reached the point where the dismissals for cause (ie, "I can't be unbiased where rape is concerned") were done, and we got to the pre-emptory challenges. This is basically where a lawyer says, "I don't like that juror," and kicks them off the jury. This was the phase where I expected to be dropped, as I had talked a great deal, including at one point calling back to the defense attorney, in a plainly annoyed manner, "Your question is misleading!" And, this is a long story. I'll be breaking it up into parts. Up next, getting selected, and opening statements. Maybe the first few witnesses if I'm feeling up to it. Posted at 02:57 permanent link category: /misc Categories: all aviation gadgets misc motorcycle theater Written by Ian Johnston. Software is Blosxom. Questions? Please mail me at reaper at obairlann dot net. | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
