Life of Kai!
September 19, 1999


Hello!  Back from, well, a lot of life that I have not had time to
spew to this crew.  A move to a new cube environment at work and other
changes have made it less convenient to take an hour or so to write
these up.  But Kai's they are a-changin'!  It is definitely time to
pass on some of the good words, so here they come.

Now I'm not what one would typically call a "fan" or even "proponent"
of what we call "time" or "order" so don't expect that from this
letter!  Let's start with a random event from earlier this year.  As
most of you know, I have been living in my world travelling friend
Dave Gerold's house for the last year and half or so.  In the fashion
I find most beautiful I received a sudden phone message from a
mysterious and lovely Australian woman at a hostel in Austin asking if
Dave was back yet.  Apparently he was on his way from Houston in a
rusted truck he picked up for a dollar in Miami.  It's always good to
have this kind of warning before a guest's arrival.  It gave me plenty
of time to kick a path through the debris in the living room that had
become my nest over the former months.

As it turned out, before I could finish chugging my last fruit juice,
send my last email and zip home in the Miatarod, my house had filled
with Dave and a gaggle of travelling folk.  Two Australian teacher
chicks, a crazy ex-military Brit, and, later, his girlfriend.
Knapsacks, sleeping bags and sarongs filled my once messy home.
(Sarongs became the only dress anyone used.  Light, simple, stylish,
great in the heat, and you just crawl off the futon in the morning and
throw it on!)  Luckily this crew came with cooking skills and tales to
tell.  Every arrival home from work became a festival of music, food
and stories.  The porch was never empty.  It was heaven making house
calls for a scattered, blathering scamp like myself who was just
starting to find himself trapped in a more and more corporate job.

Of course, it then became my turn to dash off for a nice long weekend.
My friend Bob Holling (who many remember from my performance art
stories) zipped by in the new VW and off we went to Jazz Fest in New
Orleans.  Of course, he had managed to track down a copy of the Orb's
cool cloud music for me.  Mandatory listening if we were going to
drive his VW of course!  (As a side note: the sweet VW ad that used
that music revived so much interest in the original Orb CD that it was
recently re-released.)  We had a blast driving out, and made a lot of
new friends on the way.  Many jovial officers of the law were eager to
meet us and made every effort to do so.  They typically jostled us a
bit and then encouraged us to get after it.  "Oh!  Going to Jazz Fest,
eh?  Hell, most people are doing at least 90!  Have a great time!"
Or, my favorite, after Bob was actually checked for DUI in town (no
sweat.  One beer two hours before) and then informed the officer that
we were on our way home: "What?!  You can't go home!  This city is
going to be hopping for hours!"  He then went about suggesting how we
might continue bringing our partying to new heights.  In New Orleans,
they really are the finest.

So Jazz Fest was a wonderful thing.  I chilled and dug tunes while
wolfing down piles of pour-cleansingly spicy decapod crustaceans.  I
did have to assure Bob, however, that the crowd and atmosphere had
nothing to do with how Burning Man would be.  (That's called
foreshadowing, by the way.  I could use those silly literary tricks on
Bob 'cause he's a playwright.)

Returning home after a ten hour drive to a 6:00 AM crew on my front
porch was sweet, and sweetened all the more when John (the Brit)
jumped up to immediately make me breakfast while I showered for work.
Ah yeah!  Good houseguests!

Speaking of long cruises, the next event that pops to mind is my spur
of the moment drive to New York.  Upon suddenly realizing that I had a
three-day weekend thanks to the first official pcOrder holiday ever
(Memorial Day), I was stuck with a dilemma as to where to go!  No
worries.  My good friend Jenny Dubin (Nepal fame) was kind enough to
suddenly appear in town on her way to bring her car on a non-stop
power cruise to New York.  Never one to miss an experience that
involves a lot of pain and sleep deprivation and, well, just doesn't
make any sense, I managed to wrangle a one way flight back and jumped
in the Saab.

Needless to say a random 48-hour non-stop trip to New York is destined
to be fraught with adventure.  Things like locking your keys in car in
the middle of nowhere Virginia and trying to get a hold of a locksmith
by giving the name of the gas station to the STATE police is pretty
standard.  Luckily finding a legendary pancake house with rum sauces -
of course.  Pushing through an immense throng of people waiting to get
in just brush our teeth in the bathroom sinks -- average.  Discovering
the site of the Superconducting Super Collider (SCC) was bit more
unexpected, as was the giant, crooked, sloppily painted "tours" sign
in front of the slick governments buildings just a short distance from
an 1800s town.  That, and the fact that Jean-Claude VanDame was
currently shooting a film in the very same town.  Waxahachi, Texas:
future and current hotbed of feature filmmaking?

Now, as a tip for travelers going to New York, there is really no
better way to figure out your place of lodging than by calling random
friends from the road.  Not having spent much time in New York, there
was also no better way to be introduced to the city than by a butler
opening the car door and leading us up to a massive, art-ridden pad
overlooking Central Park.  No better way.  Of course I could only
respond by waking myself up enough to stay out another two hours at a
sweet little pub sipping Hogarten on tap (yes!  Really!) babbling with
another good friend of Jenny's.  Then it was time for a quick nap and
a beautiful morning on the balcony sipping juice and eating toasted
bagels with the truly cool couple who had made the crash pad possible.
I was even able to catch a couple of photographs of the people-scape
below.  A couple kissing before one left on a fully loaded motorcycle.
A little boy running naked through the park, his parents attempting to
sprint nonchalantly after him with his clothes.  Ah.  New York.

The Memorial Day celebration itself wasn't really quite what I
expected, however.  As I yawned and stretched on the balcony I was
informed that the handful of people being escorted by two bicycle cops
was, well, the Memorial Day Parade.  They made a little stop in front
of our building, paused to say a few words at a statue, and then
continued on.  Traffic stopped politely for about two minutes.

Much more exciting was the activity in front of the building the night
before, where the only vehicle or people anywhere in sight was a van
full of FBI agents watching the Yugoslav embassy next door.  We tried
to strike up a conversation but they were not very friendly.  They
seemed to think that staying aloof would maintain their cover.
Harumph.  Public servants indeed.

Well, this has gone on long enough for one blast.  For many of you
this was the first "Life of Kai" brain dump.  I hope you enjoyed it,
but I imagine that anyone who didn't would have slapped the 'ol "D"
key a long time ago.  As always, if you are looking for a more
personal update on my life, you are going to have to send me an update
on yours!  Nothing elaborate required.  "Hello.  I'm in study hall and
I'm bored," is fine too!

Next installment: Burning Man 1999!  Was there a shortage of clothing?
Stay tuned!

As always, love and lunacy,
El Kai