May 9, 2011
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"When a man sits with a pretty girl for an hour, it seems like a minute. But let him sit on a hot stove for a minute and it's longer than any hour. That's relativity."
---Albert Einstein
The Daily News
1 Albert, well said; that one was laid on with a trowel.
2 So it wasn't my imagination on Friday. Time has been flying by at a ridiculous rate lately.
3 Relativity rears its amazing head.
4 Well, as they say: time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana.
5 Friday flew because of my own design, which is to say, converting my classroom into the newly immortal Café Verona. My students did poetry readings with awesomeness, enthusiasm, Miles Davis, and Frank Sinatra.
6 Absolutely wonderful, followed by a wonderful afternoon and evening.
7 Saturday flew by so fast I couldn't tell you what I did.
8 Actually, I can. I waited a while for Caitlin to get into town from Sac, but after eleven I decided to go to the Flea Market so that I could walk briskly for a couple of hours while searching for that one amazing treasure.
9 It worked, actually. I hadn't been to the Flea Market in years. I thought of some talk show moron declaring that the only thing San Jose has is the Winchester Mystery House.
10 There's some Marin/Burlingame snob who is clueless.
11 After years of survival, the Flea Market worked for me. It is SO funky that it becomes almost like a strange sort of world marketplace. The second I went in the west entrance, the smell of hot churros hit me right in the nose. Within seconds I got hit with a curious breeze spinning with the subleties of corn dogs and smokin' barbecue chicken.
12 Within seconds the entire Flea Market persona drew me in, with all of its funk and simplistic world marketplace charm.
13 I walked straight in, looking at flower stands, sock stands, and household items' stands, when I finally looked up and saw this counter with Elmo holding a sign that said, "Caca for Sale". Only in America. And REALLY only in Sannozay. Right next to Elmo stood about nine or ten ceramic dog poops, with the proprietor smiling behind them. The guy was a perfect cross between The Joker and Dick Van Dyke.
15 It was a great start. I walked up and down the aisles and the exoticly odd array of foods, merchants, and different things lifted me. I stopped at a hat stand and they had an embroidery machine working on a hat. I looked across and saw flags of the world snapping in the light winds.
16 My original intention was to walk for about an hour, look for a cheap microphone, and head home. I had left my mic at the school, and I thought Caitlin might want to sing later in the eve.
17 The smells of barbecued chicken sizzling over smoky fires and of fresh fruits and vegetables surrounding me on all sides caused my nose some welcome dear perfection, and my tummy a tantalizing temptation: I walked straight to the fiery barbecue and just as rapidly moved into the barbecue stand completely prepared to eat half a chicken.
18 "Can I help you?" came a voice from behind the counter. I looked up and saw about four or five people in a smoky barbecue haze.
19 I said to the figures in the haze, "Just looking." That always works at the flea market. No real hustling, you're just looking, then have fun.
20 I loved it in all its earthiness and unpretentiousness. The Flea Market is a real world where any moment you could turn the corner on a dime and find the spaghetti bowl of your dreams, or the most beautiful guitar in the world hidden amidst all the garage stuff, cheap clothes, oils, trinkets, and amazing fruits and vegetables.
21 Each aisle sent me reeling, because I hadn't been to the place in a while. What struck me was how simple it all was. No fancy rides. No overpriced foods. Just families enjoying a day at the arguably the strangest place in the world, but definitely exotic and fun. I used to go to the Flea Market when I was in high school for that very reason.
22 My friends and I would ride up from Millbrae and San Bruno and search for underground records, illegal tapings of rock shows, and alternative music. Stupid white boy stuff. We were stupid white boys. Now we're stupid white men. Just as stupid.
23 In many ways, the FM has kept it real, despite moving into warehouses of cheap toys and clothes' warehouses jobbing their stuff out to a bunch local vendors.
24 Didn't matter. It still retains a lot of its funky appeal by the smells in the air and the music in the ears, as well as the laughter of people walking around enjoying something that is clearly an acquired taste, but certainly a part of a lot of all things Sannozay.
25 It's been rumored to be closing for the past four or five years, so I was glad to walk around and appreciate it. I thought of all the families who make a living working there who will be hurt when/if it ever closes. It wasn't a pleasant thought, because these are some of the most genuine workers around, many of whom now have generations who have lived and loved the place.
26 I wound up buying a really cheap mic for twelve bucks. It worked fine, although we never got around to using it. I also bought three CD's for ten bucks from this guy who must have been out there since my own senior year in high school, which was when rocks were invented. He asked, "You want to give them a listen?" I said, "Nah, I'll just take them." I somehow knew that this guy would not have a scratched CD. He had been there far too long, and was clearly a guy who knew to sell clean, scratchless music. The guy had one card table and a portable CD player. Folding chair. Easy in, easy out.
27 Lots of fun, and almost impossible to let people know. It was the simplicity and funkiness that made the entire thing come to life. I wound up walking for two-and-a half hours, great exercise, and my sore feet barked all the way home.
28 Really fun stuff. Sometimes being alone is an awesome thing. Not being lonely, mind you, but being alone. There is a huge difference. I was enjoying a day to myself.
29 I never did get that half-chicken. I wound up buying a cup with cucumbers on the top, pineapple in the middle, and watermelon on the bottom for three dollars. Meal of the week in the midst of a nice walk. Healthiest fast food out there, and deliciously cold and refreshing.
30 I'm going to go again really soon.
31 By the time I got back to the T000000NDRA, it felt that I walked from one end of the Earth to the other. I popped in Parachutes by Coldplay, one of the three CD's I bought. The T000000NDRA isn't set up for an iPod, so I still enjoy the company of CD's. It cost me three dollars, thirty-three and a third cents. And then some. Report: nary a scratch. Clean. Pure. Clear as the sky.
32 My Saturday walk throught the Flea Market rocked. I didn't expect it to, just thought it would be pretty boring and routine. I went home having spent a little over thirty bucks: twelve for the mic, ten for the CD's, three thirty-threerounded off, got parking, a mic, three CD's unscathed, a fruit cup, and a grand afternoon that included two hours of exercise. I popped Parachutes into the player and rolled down the windows before heading toward the East Hills, still lush from the recent rains, and backed by a backdrop of slow-shifting cumulus. As I said, clean, pure, and clear as the sky.
33 Sort of works against Einstein in a way, because I felt that I had walked forever.
34 The walk seemed to take forever, but the weekend still shot by in about one second. Caitlin came down, had fun at the Berryessa Art and Wine Festival, and we spent Sunday fixing a sickly cat and having barbecued chicken. Later she found someone had broken the back passenger window to her car. Without a beat we swept it up, popped the remaining glass out, vacuumed it out, and put a temporary Sannozay window in, which consisted of a garbage bag and duct tape. Classic.
35 With all due respect, a Burlingame white boy would have come unglued and cried and screamed at his parents all night. Caitlin knew it simply needed a Band-Aid, a call to a glass shop, a couple of Benjamins, and that she'd have a brand new window AND a vacuumed car to boot later today.
36 We are old pros at all things Sannozay. She's sleeping soundly as I write, and all is well. Cat's fine, and so is the "window", which will turn magically to glass before sundown.
37 Well, it's Monday. We'll see how this week flies. I'm expecting another great week, because that's the way I roll at the end of the school year.
38 Have a great day. Go out and support the families and community members who have built their lives around the good ol' Flea Market. It's free on Wednesday-Friday, and just a few bucks to get in on weekends, when there's more stuff to enjoy anyway.
39 As a long-time resident of Sannozay, I'd like to say something on behalf of Patrick Marleau: Jeremy Roenik is a jerk. Play to win. We gotcher backs boyz. You are our Sannozay Sharks, and we'll believe to the bitter end. Roenik has no loyalties because he has played on about sixty different teams. Hmmm. Wonder why? Sharks fans, patience at the plate. Learn from the Giants. Patience at the plate.
40 Love your Monday. Sannozay rocks. Fly low.
41 Peace.
~H~
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