In a 20 hour fit of self-interested geeking I created a new little collection of websites for myself. Most notably (but not all that importantly) I’ve moved this blog from a WordPress install at meatmachine.info to Tumblr, with a shiny new domain of jonodavis.info.

Here’s the new address: blag.jonodavis.info. I even set up a friendly homepage for stalkers.

If you’re keeping up via the RSS, you may want to update your reader with the new feed. If you were already following my blog/tumblr/twitter/flickr I’m sorry for any duplicates that may have spammed your reader during the transition.

Almost everything is in place at the moment. The new setup pleases me with its organization, and will hopefully demand less of my attention to maintain. It might even lead me to spend less time twiddling the Internet and more time actually making things.

Alright now, back to work.

The last time any of us Chicoan polo players had a chance to play with a collection of other teams was in 2007. Brad and I plus Ryan and Nathan went down to San Francisco for the polo tournament attached to NACCC. We showed up with our home-brew wooden 6 lb. mallets and got thoroughly beaten by a Portland team that went on to win the day. I remember coming home and thinking “we’ve got to make some lightweight mallets out of golf clubs and ABS piping like those guys had.”

Since then our game has been improving, and our mallets have gotten much lighter and quicker. We’ve gone through generations of polo mallets. But this Sunday we saw once again how out of touch our little team is with the cutting edge of polo technique and technology. Hardcourt polo is not a rigid or standardized sport just yet, and Sunday’s games proved that we country bumpkins still have a lot to learn from the city kids.

So we got our asses handed to us, but it was still awesome fun. We met some really nice people, learned some new tricks, and in general made some big strides toward great polo justice.

It was funny to realize how much disdain I can spontaneously muster for players on an opposing team. All this contempt for their superior skills, for their energy and commitment, even for the bikes they ride. And then suddenly, as soon as the match ends, I love these people.

“Oh, you take polo way too seriously also? Oh, you take it even more seriously than I do? Oh you are so rad.” Everyone we met was another bike dork like us who didn’t mind a few dents in their frame.

The court they played on was perfect. It was an abandoned parking structure with polished smooth cement floors, an enclosed playing surface with walls and little angled corners, and they even had plenty of lighting for night play. The sky was dumping rain but we all stayed dry inside that warm little polo building.

There were plenty of teams from out of town, but Sacramento has a pretty big pool of players on their own. They have pickup games three times a week and generally play from noon ‘til dark on Sundays. They were very well practiced on the court.

We’re definitely heading back down for the next tournament they host, and will likely try to check out some pickup games too. It was really cool to find out there’s such an awesome community of players so near.

That’s a terrible excuse. Here’s what’s new:

Tomorrow morning (later today, technically, urgh) I’m going to go to the farmer’s market, eat some tamales and drink some Chico Chai, and maybe go for a bike ride. In the evening my friend Emily’s having a birthday and a big group of us are going see Ira Glass (swoon). After that we’re going skating, or mini-golfing, or just out the bars.

Last week Emily, Carson, Suzy & I played some music in a basement. We kind of just plinked around, and I broke my guitar, but fun was had. Trenton & I have also come up with a great concept for a band. Chuck Yaeger: the fasted band on Earth. We’d play speed noise metal, with songs like Sonic Boom, Pushing the Envelope, and X-1. Great idea, right?

This Sunday the bike polo team/gang/kids is driving down to Sacramento for a little mini tournament. We’ve been itching for some competition for a while now, so we were very excited when we heard about the nearby opportunity.

The semester is almost over with only five weeks until finals. I feel pretty good about it. I’m still riding the wave of “actually getting shit done” from last semester, that is to say, I’m no longer slacking off and fucking up in all of my classes. I just sent out my transcript in an application for a scholarship, and there were far too many F’s.

Almost immediately after finals week I’m going to be splitting from Chico for the summer. First stop is my mom’s place in the bay are for a week. I think Im going to be helping her with some remodeling or something along those lines. Maybe building/fixing a porch? Could be fun.

A lot of times when I’m down at her house there’s very little to do, and the fact that it’s up in the hills leads to feelings of isolation and lethargy. I mean, it’s nice seeing fambly and all, but it feels like I’m just floating there doing nothing. Hopefully the week this summer will be filled with enough labor to keep that particular variety of brain rot from setting in.

At the very tail-end of May I’m going to be flying out to see Xue. This will be our forth cross-country rendezvous, and the longest yet. I’m going to be staying with her for the whole summer, and flying back to Chico in the fall.

I don’t really know what to expect. I’ve never lived with someone I’m dating before, but I’m very excited. It’s a big thing.

While I’m there I’m going to be working an internship with the Dutch Bicycle Company. They’re a shop in Somerville that imports Dutch/Danish city bikes and has recently started designing their own for manufacture in the US. The owner seems really cool, and I’m looking forward to working for them.

That looks like a lot of words. Nearly two AM now, so I’m going to hit post, hope I didn’t misspell too many words, and fall asleep.

I remember sitting on Ryan’s floor, back when he lived in a second floor apartment just off of 10th and Ivy. His bike was up on a stand in the kitchen and we were trouble shooting his rear derailleur. It was some evening on the floor of that apartment that he told me he didn’t just want to go on bike tours, he wanted to build them. Build isn’t the right word, it’s not big enough.

The tour that left today was the third of its kind under for Wheeled Migration. The excitement this morning of the two dozen riders was contagious. Bikes just look awesome when they’re packed to the gills. Every time someone who knew me asked why I wasn’t riding my answer of, “Because I’ve got work” felt smaller and smaller, and the tour seemed bigger and greater.

Before he left the plaza at the head of the group, I told Ryan that I was proud. It felt strange to say at first, but it’s very true. He’s doing something very challenging, creative, inspiring and evidently fulfilling. I have great admiration for him. And it is certainly not only the efforts of Ryan that make me so glad; for certain the Wheeled Migration wouldn’t be happening without the dedication of many other dear friends.

I hope they have a safe trip.

On my third lap I got a pretty fast start into the BMX course, but only made it over the first ramp before crashing into the ground. I remembered the rear of my bike lifting up behind me as I started the descend from the first riser, and then the ground came rushing up into my face.

I say I remembered because I do not anymore. I know I told the people around me about what happened, but right now my memory from the moment of impact to maybe 10-15 minutes after is kind of, well, absent. I’m pretty sure I didn’t black out at any point.

My helmet was pretty thoroughly smashed, and I’ve got some healthy road rash along my right flank. I’ve been told that after I dragged myself out from under my back and off the course I started saying “my head feels really loud”. My brain and my skull had a little fight.

When I got home a few hours later my head felt a lot better, but it still seemed as if my skull was one or two sizes too small. I took a shower to wash the dirt out of my cuts and scrapes, and found them to hurt something awful. I’ve never had to scrub out such a large abrasion before, and I hope I never have to again.

When she heard that I was experiencing memory loss Xue, being a neuroscientist who likes me, told me that I needed to go to the hospital. I checked myself in and within an hour or two I was being carted down to Radiology for a CT scan.

MY BRAIN IS FINE THANKS

Now I just need to get myself a new helmet and for this damned road rash to heal up.

This morning I scrambled three eggs with some cheese, made two pieces of toast, and sliced up a big orange. I bought five pounds of oranges at the market last Saturday and I don’t think it’ll last me through the week. I cut this morning’s fruit into sixths because I like the way you can pull back the corners of the wedge and the peel just falls off. Good eats.

In my Pre-Calculus class I found out I did a lot better on Monday’s surprise exam than I thought. Rather, everyone else did nearly as bad as I and the curve makes us all look smart. Either way, the B- made me feel better. After class I spent an hour or so in the library working on the homework. It was hard, but it made sense to me by the end. I think I might be finally wrapping my head around the idea of school-as-work-as-something-valuable. About time.

At noon I had an anthropology lecture. Normally this class is pretty dull but today it was engaging. We talked about Bergmann and Allen’s rules about the relationship of volume to surface area in body sizes and proportions.

When I got home I started looking at Google Apps. I think I’m going to pitch it as a better email solution for PAUL. I think it could make a lot of things easier, but there’s still a good amount of research to do.

My last class of the day was a double lab for Manufacturing Processes, from two until eight. We talked about the wide variety of abrasive techniques and tools, from saws to polishes, and were then given plenty of time to work on our assignments. Today I tackled the pin braze. The pin braze is a very simple assignment, the objective is to brass braze some 3/8” round stock steel to a plate with a nice fillet the whole way ‘round.

The way this class works is you get to practice as much as you want for each assignment, but when you think you’re ready to be graded your materials are stamped with your number and you have one shot to get it right. I did a half dozen test pieces before committing to be graded. It was really nice getting to try the same process repeatedly, tweaking one element at a time. Different gas flows on the torch, different size flames, different amount of heat applied to the materials, etc. I was definitely nervous when I did my final graded piece, but it came out really well. The professor said it was one of the best he’s seen and that made me really happy.

The afternoon gave me faith that A) brazing is something I am not doomed to suck at, and B) I can get a lot of satisfaction out of a steady improvement of my technique. Last night Brad and I got together to design the bottom bracket and rear axle fixtures for our frame jig. Tomorrow after work I’m going to talk to Jim about the best way to machine those parts on the manual lathe and mill. It’s all coming together.

For dinner tonight I drank some root beer and some chai, and ate about a dozen cookies. Also, today’s song has been The List by Defiance, Ohio. As Xue said, this song is about everyone’s life, always.

I didn’t know much of the different species of mud before this race. Thankfully the course designers routed us through plenty of shit, and my internal wet-dirt-dictionary has expanded.

Right off the starting line the ground turned to Velcro. The floor of the rodeo was fine grained and rained upon just a few hours earlier, and though it packed down relatively well under a wheel it also tended to fly pretty well of the back of a knobby tire as it was ripped from the ground.

After about a hundred yards the course made a sharrrrp right turn around the end of a fence. Here the ground turned to chocolate pudding, and most riders put a foot down to make their way around, killing much of their speed. My teammate Scott said that on the last few lap he had been able to grab the post at the end of the fence and whip himself around it.

The course then wrapped its way through a series of paddocks behind the announcer’s stage. The ground there was very well fertalized, and I tried to keep my mouth shut.

After seven laps I finished in sixth place of the eight riders in the single speed category. I napped readily on the drive back to Chico, and ate greatly when we reconvened at the brewery.

There are five more races coming up in the next two months, and I am very excited about that.

I left Chico before the sun had fully risen, and touched down after it finished setting in Boston, where it was bitterly wickedly cold. When I got to Xue’s apartment I was rewarded for braving the airports and the cold with a blindfold, sparkly party hat and the best belated birthday (pan)cake I’ve ever tasted. Also, kisses.

The next day we rode through the city on fendered and salty bikes. We went to museums and gawked at robots that ran, stuffed mammals, machines that moved like birds, and plants made of glass. We both got into MIT and Harvard, but only because they leave their doors unlocked.

When Xue had work I slept. Occasionally I would get up to eat or play with her tiny nylon-stringed guitar, only to fall back into blankets. Eventually I rose to explore the city a little, and to meet her at work.

Part of her job includes performing a variety of tests on patients, and for fun, I had her test me for color blindness. I’ve known for years that I see some deep blues and purples irregularly, but not how else my vision might be divergent from the norm. It turns out that I have common deutan color blindness, which mostly affects my perception of greens. Xue was very entertained “Hey Jono, what color is this?”

We spent most of Friday in bed reading sci-fi eating delicious bread and baked sweet potatoes. In the evening we rode to a potluck and enjoyed even more food and good company.

We took the Chinatown bus to New York on Saturday. All of the bare trees on the side of the highway that we passed were very familiar. and walked across the Manhattan bridge to my cousin’s apartment in Brooklyn.

As a late celebration of my cousin Alden’s birthday we went out with a group to a really fancy restaurant. I tried bacon and pork and steak, and they were all delicious, but I decided to continue my vegetarianism.

The next day my dad and Karen came up from Pennsylvania and we went out to breakfast. The place where we ate had a photo booth, but it stubbornly refused to accept our dollars. So, more iPhone photos of X & I.

That night Xue went to another birthday party in Williamsburg while my dad, Karen, Alden and I went to the home of one of my dad’s old friends from when he was young. More good food was eaten, and stories were told. Afterward I spend about three hours making what should have been a half hour trip to meet up with Xue. I still really don’t know how subways work, but I didn’t die. We made pancakes, danced and sang.

Xue took the bus back to Boston on Monday afternoon, and I flew out of JFK on Tuesday morning, arriving in a rain-soaked Chico in the early afternoon.

it's like 9pm here
i took a three hour nap after getting home from work
and now I'm up and I want to make dinner
i've found this strategy
along with leaving for work at 8am
allows me to NEVER EVER see my room mates
i can pretend I live alone!
except for mysterious things that happen in my apartment
who put the dishes in the sink?
Ghosts
who does all that food in the fridge belong to?
Ghosts

I’ve been living alone since the Fall of 08, and it’s been a pretty fruitful experience. I didn’t lose my mind, I didn’t become a complete hermit. I didn’t keep as tidy as I would like people to think.

On Tuesday I’ll start moving out of my studio and into a house where friends Mica and Trenton live. The two of them are going to be off traveling until the 20th of January or so, giving me time to settle in on my own. Then it’s back to living with the dead.

So I’ve been playing through lots of my own songs and a few covers, trying to figure out what I want to share, trying to figure out what I want to sound like. I play for an audience so very rarely, it’s not something that feels very natural or comfortable for me. I know that being on some kind of stage, real or just symbolic, really messes with me. I get nervous, clammy, forgetful, mumblesome. This wasn’t an issue a few years ago, but now it’s a seemingly incurable malady.

I’d like to blame my nerves on the changing nature of the music I’ve been writing, but I know it’s probably just because I’m out of practice and insecure.

Anyway, here’s a cover I recorded today. It is ‘Up The Wolves’ from The Mountain Goats’ album The Sunset Tree. This album has been sounding really great to me this past week, so I recommend it furiously if you haven’t heard it yet.

Download Up The Wolves