jc blog - tales of a modern-day nomadic hunter-gatherer

Follow jcomeau_ictx on Twitter This is the weblog of Intrepid Wanderer. You never know what you might find here; graphic descriptions of bodily functions, computer programming secrets, proselytizing for the antichrist, miscellaneous ranting and kvetching, valuable information on living off the land... if you don't share my rather weird interests you may want to try slashdot instead.

You can consider my Del.icio.us links an extension to my blog, as are my LifeTango goals and my other to-do items. My to-buy list is also public, but only for sharing any useful ideas that might be there; I'm not requesting charity, neither do I offer it.

You can find me easily in google searches, as jcomeau, jcomeau_ictx, or jcomeauictx. There are lots of other jcomeaus, but AFAIK I'm the only jcomeau_ictx out there so far.

If you want to comment on anything you see here, try the new Facebook comments, reachable by clicking the "[comment]" link at the end of each post. If for some reason that isn't working, go ahead and email me, jc.unternet.net. You know what to do with the first dot. Make the 'subject' line something reasonably intelligent-looking or it goes plunk! into the spambasket unread.

This RSS feed may or may not work. Haven't fiddled with it in forever. RSS Feed


Cops woke up me and some other guy in the park yesterday afternoon. "No sleeping in the park". Yeah, right, whom was hurt by it? Just harrassment of those who don't play the game according to the golden rules. I'm supposed to be paying a hotel $50 to $100 a night for the privilege of sleeping. Today I slept on the beach -- so far they're not enforcing any such law there, if it exists.

Crossed the border again, having run out of dollars but still have $700 pesos to last me till Saturday. Sitting at the Taco Bell in TJ drinking Pacifico, eating their microscopic 3 for a dollar tacos, and waiting to meet Daniel Charles Thomas, poet and author of the tijuanagringo website. His poetry and webpages capture the mystery and magic of California in general, and of Baja in particular, better than anything else I've seen. "But it's a convoluted hodgepodge" you rightfully object. Yes, it is. Both the website and Baja California. Rivers of raw sewage may run through the valleys, but there are jewels hidden everywhere. You just have to dig a little.

Damn, I drank way too much yesterday evening, at a place called The Local, or something like that, I think on 3rd avenue near the trolley tracks. Lots of pretty chicas there, but missed any opportunities I might have had to score. Crass I may be, but not yet enough to walk up and ask "You wanna fuck?". And forget making small talk, I never had the skill and am unlikely to learn it at this stage of the game. It was interesting watching the complicated mating riduals of this society, seeing the winners walk out arm in arm and the losers, like myself, leaving alone. Anyway, the acidosis resulting from too much draft beer might be to blame for my cough taking a turn for the worse today. Bottled beer doesn't seem to be nearly as bad.

There was a pretty big fire in TJ this afternoon, you could see the smoke as soon as you got onto the footbridge across the Tijuana River. It looked as though the bombaderos had in under control, though. [comment]


Got turned down by another Social Security Disability lawyer. If you aren't playing by the rules, they won't touch it; that means you have to be seeing a shrink and taking medications. Fuck that, I'll take my chances at the ALJ hearing by myself. [comment]


Happy hour just ended here at the La Jolla Brewery, but that's OK, I got my second pint in under the wire. The calamari rings appetizer was half price and much better than the $12 seafood kabobs I got yesterday; the shrimp was borderline, with a slight ammonia taste. This chef is one of the few who knows how to bread seafood lightly; most give you something with twice as much bread crumbs and grease than the seafood. The black guy at Chauncy's in Pembroke Pines is one of a few others in the world who does fried seafood right. I forget his handle, I think it's JR. I'll never forget the time I asked for the fish and chips and got fried fresh dolphin (mahi-mahi) instead of the usual frozen whitefish; what an exquisite pleasure. I asked him about it and he just said he ran out of the halibut, and he was surprised because, he said, nobody else seemed to have noticed.

Spent the afternoon, again, at Black's Beach. I printed a Google map of the area and finally found one of the alternate routes in, along La Jolla Farms Road, almost completely unmarked but a much easier descent than the footpath I took before (and took for the climb back up). Lots of naked chicks there today, most with guys, but what the heck, the scenery is improving. A guy passed me on the way up the path while I was leaning against the handrail catching my breath, and gave me a bottle of water. Nice people. I like this town.

Over the past two days at Kinko's, I've re-downloaded all the mp3's I had erased in my efforts to clear space for development tools for a RAC job last month. Listening to Hall and Oates's Kiss On My List right now. [comment]


Sitting here at the (recently renamed and refurbished) La Jolla Brewery and Restaurant, enjoying my second pint of their red ale, $2 a pint. They've got 2 brews, Raspberry Stout and Pacific Dark, for $1 apiece but they don't plan to continue dollar specials forever, too bad. And these are happy hour prices, normally they're $4 a pint, but Rock Bottom only takes a dollar off during happy hour and these are half price. Once the microbrew fans find out about this place here at UTC, maybe a mile or two away from Rock Bottom, the latter place will reach its namesake in a hurry.

A note on the figs yesterday: bad move, as in Bowel Movement. One is the limit. Of course, the carbs and Guinness didn't help either, but I had a real mess this morning, and it's a good thing I finally made it to Black's Beach this afternoon and took a good though brief bath in the Pacific. It seems a little warmer there than in Rosarito but it's still bitter cold compared to the Atlantic in Hollywood Beach about now, where it's probably like bathwater. Today finally a naked babe walked by, or at least someone with prominent breasts, a nice bush, and no penis. She probably thought I was getting an eyeful, but due to my myopia I was barely able to ascertain his/her apparent gender. I tried (for the umpteenth time) staring directly into the sun for brief periods today and noticed significant improvement in my vision shortly thereafter, but, as usual, short-lived. I think what happens is that it makes my iris clamp down to maximum f-stop, which simulates the pinhole effect until it dilates again.

Did you myopics ever notice that your vision is not just blurry? That in fact there are multiple identical images, all fairly clear, but overlapping one another at various positions that make the net result a blur? That is my case, at least. If I could train my brain to take all those images and combine them at the proper offsets, my vision could probably be 20/20 again, or even better.

The front-door greeter here looks a lot like the (female half of) owner of Barandas down in Rosarito. I told her as much but she didn't seem too interested; I'm working on my 3rd pint, fantasizing about inviting her to Rosarito on her day off, renting a hotel room... Oh, well. As I said before, young chicks don't much dig old full-bearded nomads. They don't know what they're missing, do they? OK, maybe they do. 30 seconds of furious copulation followed by a heartfelt "thank you" and sleep. Hey, it could be worse! At least I'm grateful! [comment]


I came across the border early this morning and decided to try a shortcut walking to downtown; first took the shortcut across the overpass at the end of San Ysidro Boulevard, then right into the housing development, left on Brando and left again on Wardlow; follow it to International, then right onto it and follow it around and out. Then you're on Tocayo, hang a left; follow it to Hollister, then right. On Hollister somewhere between Iris and Coronado you'll find, in a vacant unfenced lot, a lemon tree and a fig tree side by side on the right side of the road as you're walking roughly North. I picked three of the figs, they were soft, plump, and purple, just perfect. Wasn't desperate enough to eat the lemons; a little further down, on Saturn between Coronado and Palm, there was an orange tree within reach of the sidewalk; I picked a small one, ate half of it, and used the juice of the half remaining to wash off the figs, which were already falling apart in my pocket, and ate them. Yummy. The orange was very sour, but the sweetness of the figs was a perfect complement. Rounded out my diet with a dollar Whopper Jr. at Burger King. Jack in the Box has a better dollar burger but for some reason I didn't stop there, I think it was on the wrong side of the street.

Anyway, I walked up the Silver Strand peninsula; I was almost dehydrated by the time I got to the state park, but there were plenty of water fountains once I got there. Sacked out on the beach for a few hours after quenching my thirst, and moved on. The sun was getting low by the time I reached the fancy, expensive shops of Coronado, and stopped at McP's for a Guinness and the cheapest thing on the menu, the clam chowder for $3.95. When the server came back to ask if I wanted another pint, I asked the price: $5. I said no thanks and handed her a $20 to pay my tab; when she came back with the change, she brought me another Guinness on the house! What a sweetheart. I probably should have tipped $3, considering, but I left $2 which turned out to be a good thing.

By the time I reached the bridge from Coronado into San Diego, the sun was already below the horizon but it wasn't yet dark. I saw the signs saying no pedestrians, but as far as I knew there wasn't any other bridge so I was going to go for it anyway. As I continued up the ramp, it became obvious that it was suicidal to try it, as there was no shoulder whatsoever, not a single inch of space. Maybe that's why there was a suicide hotline sign partway up the ramp! Major suckage, especially for a city and a state which usually provides excellent bicycle and pedestrian ways. The cops were waiting for me when I got back down the ramp, but they didn't hassle me much. I had just the right change, $2.25, for the bus to take me over the bridge, then used the transfer to catch the Blue Line to Hazard Center, where I'm typing this at the 24-hour Kinko's. But this Kinko's doesn't have free net access at the laptop workstations, so I'm going to have to wait to upload this; I don't want to guess an IP as I did here once before, and knock one of the paid workstations offline.

Anyway, that's not a workable pedestrian shortcut. Stick to the old reliable Beyer to Broadway to Main St. method. [comment]


Finished Nature's End today. I couldn't find a single character with whom to identify in the whole book. Everybody in Strieber's world is so goddamned weird. After reading Orson Scott Card, this was a big letdown. At the same time, the possibilities of massive desertization and atmospheric damage within my lifetime are quite real, so what it lacked in entertainment value it made up for in pushing me back to my permaculture experimentation. This time I hope I don't forget to take some Carpobrotus cuttings with me from San Diego to Deming. [comment]


Getting ready to head back to the desert for the rainy season, hope to get some cactus and other succulents planted and hopefully get a decent hole started this time. Just waiting for my latest SSA appeal to happen, then I'm outta here.

Finished Silmarillion a day or two ago, started Whitley Strieber's and James Kunetka's book Nature's End. First impression is that it reads like a teenager's impersonation of Heinlein. All the moreso because this was published in 1987, for christsakes, Heinlein's tech gaffes were made 30 or 40 years prior. Not much to say about Silmarillion, classic Teutonic fantasy stuff.

I've been striking out consistently with younger women. Not quite ready to give up, but I'd better widen the playing field a little if I'm going to improve my chances of getting laid any time soon.

Lately the line and if they stare... just let them burn their eyes on you moving... from Argent's 1972 hit Hold Your Head Up has been running through my head as I walk the streets of Rosarito in my black leather topcoat on these hot days of emerging summer. People look, and stare, as if I'm some kind of outer-space alien, they don't quite know what to make of me. It seems to be a lot more socially acceptable than the serape I was wearing last year, though. I just hope it's gonna keep me dry enough and warm enough in New Mexico next month. I doubt I'll be able to afford a $1000+ Gore-Tex drysuit by then. [comment]


Strange dream. I was trying to teach people how to levitate and fly, but I couldn't understand how I myself was doing it. I just kept, by way of example, flitting around in a supermarket above the heads of the shoppers. Just realizing as I type this that that particular supermarket is a familiar dreamscape, one that recurs often. Anyway, I was trying to come up with some sensible way to explain what happens between two bodies when one either decreases or increases its gravitational pull. Not sure now if that tied in with something else in the dream, the realization that, as Gurdjieff and others have said, one should choose a teacher not far advanced from one's own abilities. But now I don't know what in the dream clinched that for me.

Did I mention that the description of Eros and its tunnels, in the book Ender's Game, matched another of my common dreamscapes? The sense of vertigo and the low gravity were instantly familiar when I read it.

While some dreams are probably just nonsense, others seem to be doorways into other worlds, whether in another time, place, or universe I have no idea. [comment]


Finally walked south of Rosarito Beach Hotel for the first time today and found the famous Rene's restaurant and bar. They actually serve draft beer there, both Tecate and Dos Equis amber ale. For a dollar and a quarter a (twelve-ounce?) glass, too, not bad at all. Burger was nothing to crow about though, next time I'll get something to eat first.

Bronchitis is improving slightly each day, but I've probably got a couple of weeks to go till I can claim some semblance of health again. I have to admit, this could be a serious indictment of my paleolithic diet; being sick for over two months sucks. But I still think it was the mildew that hit me first, and then inhaling the chemical I used to kill the mildew was what really pushed my lungs to the breaking point.

That long black leather trenchcoat I won on eBay for just over $30 including shipping is really, really nice. I'm probably the best-dressed goddamn gabacho in town; I don't get nearly as many catcalls as before. Doesn't seem to impress the chicks much though. Maybe some dark sunglasses to round off that Matrix look, hmm... [comment]


OK, catching up on the last few days... finished Nabokov's Glory; the antihero Martin Edelweiss represents, to me, what I consider one of the worst of my shadow selves: vain and shallow, chasing adventure primarily for the purpose of impressing some chick who won't likely give a shit anyway. After Ender's Game this book was a good way to deflate my ego again. Picked up a hardcover copy of Tolkien's The Silmarillion at the Rosarito Macy's for 50 cents and am wading through it.

Oh, you didn't know there is a Macy's in Rosarito? Well, it's just off the main boulevard, behind Waldo's. Better known as the Red Cross Thrift Store. Someone jokingly referred to it as Macy's to me one day, and the name stuck. Brand-name jeans for 10 pesos a pair (about 90 cents), can't beat it. Hardcover books for 50 cents, paperbacks for a quarter. In most cases they'll take 10 pesos for a dollar, giving you an additional 10 percent savings off their excellent prices (the actual exchange rate more often hovers around 11 pesos to the dollar).

The diarrhea, after a few days respite, came back with a vengeance yesterday. I almost didn't dare go to the bar last night, but finally went later and had a few beers and a game or 3 of billares with the lovely Karina.

Paid the electricity today at the CFE-matico. All you need is any old bill with a readable barcode on it; pass it in front of the laser scanner near the bottom of the front of the machine, and it will pull up your account info and you can pay. It takes up to 200-peso notes, and prints a receipt when you're done.

Last Friday I was in San Diego most of the day. Went to Casa Guadalajara in Old Town to meet someone, but she never showed up; had only a few sips of the margarita because it tasted so incredibly toxic, and even then I threw up as soon as I reached the trolley station. Lost maybe $3 to $5 worth of my expensive sashimi lunch; can't remember the name of the sushi place but it's right across the street from the Hard Rock Cafe. Anyway, stick to Casa de Bandini for margaritas, that's my advice. All for now. [comment]


I guess not too many people have had this problem; I was getting an ArrayIndexOutOfBoundsException inserting into a List subclass beyond the first element. The stacktrace showed the problem occurred at javax.microedition.lcdui.ChoiceGroup.insertImpl(), which doesn't even appear in my version of the API docs. And the only reference to this error I could find on the web was at this Brazilian java BB; and it just had the question, no answers. Anyway, after hacking on it all day, I finally figured out that you can't mess with the fonts on the List elements as you're adding them; append them all first, then loop through and tinker with the fonts or whatever. Bleah. [comment]


Finally got to this page on herbal remedies, buried several pages deep in the Google results. Basil and Garlic look like my best bets as expectorants. OK, so I'm not a horse, it still ought to work.

I think this is the first time I'm mentioning this recurring dream, because until this morning it just seemed so realistic based on the stupidity of the typical American that up to now I just figured I'd seen it on TV or something. And these dreams were otherwise "normal", that is, nobody flying or morphing. But when I woke a little while ago I realized how surreal and Orwellian this is, and just had to write it down. Too bad I've forgotten most of the details, but instead of just putting question marks, I'll make up something that seems to fit into the following descriptions...

Over morning coffee, the familiar Public Service ad comes over the TV: "Do you know where your next Secured Point is?". A birds-eye view of a three-by-two block area appears on the screen, showing curious color-coded square posts at various points along each sidewalk, about 8 feet high and in groups of 4 in a 3-foot-square square pattern at each placement. Then connecting lines are drawn in by computer-generated overlay, from doorway to destination, parallel right-angled line segments joining the color-coded areas at the top of each post, showing a safe path which a briefcase-carrying businessman now obediently walks.

For the first few weeks of implementation, employees at businesses across the U.S. are using substantial parts of their workdays oohing and aahing over the relative dangers of each others' walking routes, downloading and printing computer-generated Secure Maps from the Department of Homeland Security website for their own daily forays to and from the mass transit stops between home, work, and shopping, and employers not only don't care, they encourage it. These maps have the Secured Route, as generated by the TV ad, already overlayed onto the street diagram. People are supposed to stay within the parallel lines at all times, and most do. Secured Crossing Points are well-marked, and scofflaws who jaywalk are whispered about by the Good People and routinely ticketed by cops, who are, of course, "only doing this for your own protection, sir".

Areas such as Miami-Dade's South Beach and San Diego's Gaslamp District are, naturally, Secured Areas where the wealthy can feel safe from the vaguely-hinted-at-but-still-unspecified terrorist activities that most certainly will happen someday soon in an area with a lower Security Code. The glasses clink, the fajitas sizzle, and life and laughter go on for those with jobs or inherited wealth; meanwhile the poorer parts of town (terrorists want to target the poor areas, of course! right?) are increasingly empty, and the mom-and-pop businesses are gradually being shuttered up as cops capriciously declare "curfews" at various times of night whenever they see someone walking along streets with no (or coded-low) Secured Point posts.

That pretty much sums up the overall idea, although I've probably spent many dream-hours already in this radical New World observing the details of how these changes are absorbed into the American lifestyle. I can't imagine many of my friends at City of the Sun ever falling for this crap if it ever hits the fan in reality, but I always associate the dream with people like my old neighbor in Florida, the musclebound fool who sang "Heeeeere Kiiiiitty!" in a falsetto voice every morning at about 6, just as I was trying to get to sleep. Yes, I'm talking behind his back in a sense, but he knows pretty well what I think of him by now anyway. Don't you, R__?

So, anybody else having these dreams? Or did I really see this in a movie or such at some point? [comment]


I finished Ender's Game today and man, I'm telling you, go find a copy, this is good shit. Ender lived the life I started but wimped out on. Doesn't matter, I'll finish in a blaze of glory. His boyhood experiences were something like mine, except when I decided to confront the gang of bullies, they all just laughed at me and walked away; I had many nights of recurring dreams in which I savagely attacked my enemies and killed them with my bare hands and feet, but it never came to pass in the real world.

All day today I've been improving on my coughing technique and now rarely carry a cough to completion unless there's a substantial amount of phlegm coming out as a result. And one of my regular customers at the internet café said she had bronchitis for 3 months after inhaling Easy-Off while cleaning her oven; that clinched it for me. All this is because of that goddamned chemical mildew killer I bought at Waldo's. I should have just used a broom as a "paintbrush" with a clorox solution, which is how I finished the job, from the start. I thought I needed the convenience of a spray bottle, and as a result, I'm suffering this nasty cough. Mind you, I had gone to the dollar store with the intent of buying an empty spray bottle, but all they had were bottled products; I chose the one that matched most what I wanted, and used it, even though I suspected it would hurt me. I did consider dumping it down the sink and filling it with a diluted clorox solution, but I was too concerned about the fish, knowing Rosarito just sends their raw effluent into the Pacific. Ender understands, even if you don't. [comment]


Reading Orson Scott Card's Ender's Game reminded me: hey, I'm smart. Ever since sometime in High School when I decided it was better to be popular than smart, I sometimes forget that (even though I never managed to become popular anyway). So I've been training myself to cough only productive coughs; that is, when there's no more phlegm tickling the back of my throat, stop coughing. Avoiding useless dry coughs helps keep the throat from becoming raw. It seems to work but it requires constant effort, and I can't always accomplish it.

These so-called "natural remedy" providers are so fucking devious it isn't funny. I was googling "herbal expectorant OR expectorants" and found this Naturade product. Note that the first paragraph makes no mention of Guaicum nor Guaifenesin, though that's what's listed as the "Active Ingredient" in the 3rd paragraph. Turns out Guaifenesin is an over-the-counter drug, and though it perhaps originally was extracted from the Lignum Vitae tree, it probably now is synthesized artificially, that's why Naturade wimped out on listing it with the "natural" ingredients. I've seen this many times before, of course, but the brazenness still shocks me at times. Stuff like this only goes to show how goddamn useless the FDA is. I only buy the herbal products that come in a clear plastic envelope and all you can see are flowers, leaves, twigs, wood chips, etc. Of course that's not foolproof either but at least you aren't trusting some fuckwit bunch of marketroids who like making neat little pills or syrups in pretty little plastic bottles, and attempt to mislead you about what is in them. [comment]


Yesterday, the previously dry cough loosened a bit, and since then I've been spitting up copious amounts of lovely green phlegm. However, the frequency hasn't abated much if any, so it's too soon to say I'm improving. Even if this is pneumonia, I'm going to ride it out as I did the last time, in Florida maybe two years or so ago. It might take another month or so, but I'm pretty sure I'll make it. It's putting a serious damper on my flirting with the barchicks, though. [comment]


My physical health has gone to shit, and I can't figure out for sure why. It may be the mildew in this house or something; I'm in the process of killing the molds with clorox but I can only take so much of that every day too. I got rid of all traces of my "cold" (what a silly term) maybe two weeks ago, but then had diarrhea for a few days straight, and now I've got another "cold" plus intermittent diarrhea. Lovely.

Living in a house has its advantages, but more than ever I want to try living in an underground shelter on my desert lot in Luna County, NM. Once the molds are gone, I'm going to give my body two weeks to recover; if it doesn't, I'd better head back out there and start digging. The spring winds should be dying down by now (I hope), and the rainy season doesn't start for another month. Outdoors. Clean air, no chemicals. The way mankind lived for millions of years before this "civilization" experiment put us all in our own little boxes. As we get older, most of us move into progressively smaller boxes until we make a final move to one that's about 8 by 3 by 2 feet. That ain't for me. I'd rather die from a rattlesnake bite and get eaten by coyotes, completing the food chain in a more normal way.

I met a girl on Orkut who lives in Mexico City. Smart, sexy, and she says she likes me... 3 big turn-ons. Let's see how long this can last before I "go and fuck things up... just like I always do..." [comment]

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