What’s quite surprising is the way the Queen Mary 2 vibrates, eight stories above the water and 10 stories above the engine room. For a technical nincompoop like myself, what’s even more surprising is the reason. Stabilizers. The little underwater winglets that work like airplane stabilizers actually make the ship vibrate. Perhaps a more technical person might say that they convert the ship’s rocking into vibration. Perhaps they wouldn't. Perhaps they would say that Poseidon’s trident had Read more [...]

If you have any doubts, just stop showering for a moment and watch the plastic curtain sway. It knows. The shower curtain can’t be fooled. It even knows the difference between port and starboard, one of those generally obscure distinctions. Nope, no question, you are all at sea. I confess to limited interest in matters nautical. The Queen Mary 2 is big enough to convince you that you’re not afloat. Stabilizers control the lateral motion, much like an aircraft. As for the longitudinal, by the Read more [...]

Night fear is the worst. My bladder woke me at some undefinable hour, perhaps 3 AM. Right away it was apparent, I was a bit too awake. And thinking about what? Well, 'thinking' would be overstating it. I was immersed in the repetitive anticipation of my upcoming traffic accident en route to the next day's lunch. Why an accident? No particular reason necessary, of course, for it is night, the time of anxious imaginings. Oh, the drive would take me into the center of town, to the edge of the Financial Read more [...]

“This car was owned by a little old man who only drove it once a day to run errands in his neighborhood.” Sounds pretty good, doesn’t it? And if you are selling used cars, and can verify this tale, it’s a perfect pitch. It’s also my reality, these days, if one substitutes ”lunch” for ”errands.” All this occurs to me as I crank up the Dodge and head to Noe Valley, not quite my neighborhood, but the adjoining one. As all my intimates know, I have to keep moving. Moving the car, Read more [...]

I recall it all with remarkable clarity and, let us note, cringing embarrassment. There is really no call for the latter, yet it is somehow part of the story. Which, incidentally, isn't even much of a story. All by way of turning off the reader, which I seem to be attempting. Where was I? On the 88 bus, of course. London Transport was my home in those days, even after I had lost my little job. And, yes, it was a job. Without it, I was slightly lost. Though, it must be noted, I had another. My Read more [...]

I do have a new neighborhood, but it's not entirely clear if I have neighbors. People trudge up and down the street on a regular basis. We smile here and there. But they are pretty thin on the ground, these people. At times, the neighborhood gives every impression of having been evacuated. And, of course, it is, every morning...refugees returning every evening. Silicon Valley is freeway-close, as they say, to this part of San Francisco. Corporate buses mass by the subway station each morning. Many Read more [...]