Sunday, May 10, 2009
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Slughterama 6:
I will get a better story about the whole weekend, but I just wanted to say that they had a bike polo tournament and the halftime show was 4x4 tandem bike polo.
Isn't that imaginative? I am looking for pictures.
ps. On a Cutthroat related tip, I welcome Quinn Vaughn Archibald as the newest purebread Cutthroat to be brought into this world by founders Zach and Noelle Archibald!
Isn't that imaginative? I am looking for pictures.
ps. On a Cutthroat related tip, I welcome Quinn Vaughn Archibald as the newest purebread Cutthroat to be brought into this world by founders Zach and Noelle Archibald!
Monday, April 27, 2009
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Derailleurs are looking for a few good women...
It is about to be bikedance season and The Derailleurs are looking to gain 1-3 new dancers.
Do you have the drive and ambition to join our group?
Our qualifications:
1. Able to make practice 1-2 times a week for 2-3 hours each.This is not including shows, which we get a headcount of availability before we commit.
2. Confident to dance. This doesn't mean you have to be a ballerina. Many have started bike dancing without any dance history. You just need to be able to learn and spend extra time remember the sequences if it doesn't come naturally. This means that you aren't afraid to try out new ways of bodily expression.
3. Be a Team Player. The world of dance has many shades to it. The Derailleurs is a DIY group more concentrated on the adventure than the grandeur. While we do like to have amazing dancers join our folds, we would like them to want to be a part of the organizational aspects and the future goals, instead of just showing up to dance. We want you to be fervent about bicycles or dance or both. No primadonnas.
4. Have something to throw on the table. This is very broad, but we are a collective of able women, and we are looking for more collaboration. Do you network, do PR, know lighting, stage manage, sew outfits, spin fire, play on the trapeze, build bikes, jazz dance, capoeria, gymnastics, acrobalancing, etc
We want you to have the ability to bring new ideas or work on existing ones with us.
Does the idea of Bike dancing excite you?
Do you want to join our team and help continue to puch the boundaries of Bicycle Dance?
More info on bike dancing:
http://agentchaosproductions.blogspot.com/2008/06/modern-history-of-bike-dance-team.html
CONTACT:
Eliza sks Agent Chaos
++++++++++++elizastrack(at)gmail(dot)com++++++++++++
Friday, April 24, 2009
Slaughterama 2009
Every April Fool's, Richmond VA thrown the most savage mutant bike festival for a week. I have gone every other one since the first one. I was entirely bummed not to go this year because I didn't have a job. Sigh.
I have this faint pink bike tattoo on my wrist from the first event of the first Cycle Slaughterama. Everyone thinks its a stamp. I won it on The Cutthroats team for the 6 pack relay. Awww, memories. The first one took place in a culdesac in Oregon Hill. 100th Monkey Zach dug up his backyard and made a dirt ramp with a volcano fire pit and bleachers and a sky chair. I stayed for a month and the water got shut off the first week I was there. There are so many moments I should write down about my nightingale exploits on the edge of the south.
![]()
Slaughterama 6 from Dj Granger on Vimeo.
I have this faint pink bike tattoo on my wrist from the first event of the first Cycle Slaughterama. Everyone thinks its a stamp. I won it on The Cutthroats team for the 6 pack relay. Awww, memories. The first one took place in a culdesac in Oregon Hill. 100th Monkey Zach dug up his backyard and made a dirt ramp with a volcano fire pit and bleachers and a sky chair. I stayed for a month and the water got shut off the first week I was there. There are so many moments I should write down about my nightingale exploits on the edge of the south.
Slaughterama 6 from Dj Granger on Vimeo.
Cougar Run Photos:
The birthday girl:
**These were all stolen from the lovely Mici Monster's flickr.com profile.
Thanks!
**These were all stolen from the lovely Mici Monster's flickr.com profile.
Thanks!
Holy Cow! Camp Tipsy:
In the last year I have been having soooo many dreams about being on boats. All kinds of boats. Junk boats to yachts. That is why I am so pleased to announce adult summer camp worth planning for:
CAMP TIPSY!
Co-conspirator of the Swimming Cities Project, Chicken John Rinaldi is adding junk boat tierra firma to the bay area map of radicalness.
Start amassing floatables.
Does anyone feel cutthroat enough to be on my team?
Here is a blog about the event:
http://camptipsy.wordpress.com/
photos from Chicken John's flickr.com
CAMP TIPSY!
Co-conspirator of the Swimming Cities Project, Chicken John Rinaldi is adding junk boat tierra firma to the bay area map of radicalness.
Start amassing floatables.
Does anyone feel cutthroat enough to be on my team?
Here is a blog about the event:
http://camptipsy.wordpress.com/
photos from Chicken John's flickr.com
Ancient Archives:
Bicycle-dance section of the Marienthal Workers’ Athletic and Sports Club on the tennis court in the Herrengarten park behind the workers’ Altgebäude boarding-house
Photo 192?, original 8,8 X 12,7 cm
Source: Archives for the History of Sociology in Austria (Graz), Walter Dienstl: Marienthal-Gramatneusiedl picture collection, call number 43/429
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Cougar Run Today:
announcing:
COUGAR RUN!!
today!
a 40th birthday celebration of Cyclecide's Auggie!
Wednesday April 22nd
El Rio
7-7:45pm-starting point
Bike ride to different stops with surprises along the way.
WEAR: Animal Print or Safari Gear.
featuring:
The Brakes from Vancouver, B.C. Canada.
The Derailleurs from right here.
The Derailleurs will be performing at 21st and Shotwell, a stop along the way.
Come for the whole ride or show up at the polo courts for the bikedance shows.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Bike Polo Tournament Last Sunday:
Time has been going by so slowly and quick all at the same time.
It feels likes ages ago yet it was just a week.
I attended San Francisco's recent Young Blood Inaugural sun. April 12, 2009. I was so excited to see this Greater Cascadia bout! I feel like I might fight someone for the title of number one sfbikepolo fan. I was exposed to bike polo in Portland in the magical year of 2002. That is when many awesome things happened in the Portland bicycle history. This is a tangent, but two thousand two was a year that not only Zoobomb, but Axles of Evil bike polo, Shift to Bikes organization, and C.H.U.N.K. 666 held a Chunkathalon. Midnight Mystery rides. Everything came out of the year of Bike Summer.
Since then, it has been my viewing pleasure to witness many a West Side Invites, Slaughteramas, Dead Baby Downhills, and NACCC's. Also local teams gearing up with the new bully, Seattle giving Portland a run for their money, introducing us to it, I hear.
There has always at least been a MEGA rivalry between Portland and Seattle. Witnessing how my new homefront held up was key. And I was thougoughly impressed. Kim and Laird with precision shots, and Xian with an ungodly left handed lean.
I spent my first five years being a professional fan of Cascadia bike polo. My friend and I lived mere blocks away from the Sunday games, and frequently went over, Sparks in tow, picking up mallets to make fire spinning routines with while we were cheering on the carnage. These days we just sat in the bleachers and discussed the playing like a fine wine tasting mixed with the set of an urban, street-slanged lisp and sudden outbursts of fury/acclaim.
I was cheering on my homie Casey on Team Cascadia because I know he has mastered the snake style. some have come close, but none have harnessed it like he has. He was one of the original Portland bikepolo kids, and you can tell he has been putting in his work.
I found myself cheering for LA's 818 because I have a thing for cholos and they had some fine latinos representing so-cal. Then of course, who I had thought would win, but didn't, was the bikeshopcrewcrew with Xian, Laird, and Kim's team. They had been practicing and scheming. The last few weeks at polo the courts were tense and huddled, with know teams who used to be together, now beefing up their skills as a team to dominate all. I heard so many little whisper circles about playing styles and tendencies. Bike ninjas honing their skills of awareness for tournament.
I had spent the late night hours before the morning's event using a nose hair trimmer to carve lightning bolts into Xian's sideburns. We also gave him a double handlebar. It took three hours and three girls hacking away. Maybe in hindsight he should have rested up instead of entertained four girls wanting to play beauty parlor. Oh well, the ride there was B E A utiful! Sunny spring day, prizes lined up at the bbq stand, shade perfectly fell on the bleachers for the diehard fans and quick outers.
That is why bike polo players don't have numbers. Because everyone wants both teams to win. We're all homies. If you travel more than a state to play one of the bloodiest, underrated extreme sports, then you are family. Kindred Spirit.
That is what I saw on Sunday. Each team took turns cheering for their homies, then their victors.
I am beginning to see certain moves that really help if you can pull them off in polo.
I will keep them secret until I decide I won't ever play. Until then I will keep them for my own future polo exploration.
I had a fabulous turkey burger, donated towards some chilled beers, and helped carry the champion crystal mallets with large feathers and ninja scroll wrapping, to the prize pile. yeah. That sounds important, huh?
I am going to do some self hazing to prove that I am the number one bike polo fan.
Look for wacky stunts incredibly terribly pulled off.
Probably will manifest in cheers and slang for when people score. Idioms, if you will.
If you think of any, let me know.
And tons of stomp claps. After all, this area birthed hyphy. Let's make like gentrifiers and collectivize culture.
Anyway, the gladiators threw their mallets around, rolled out of the impossible, held every whimper back even when the sun was beating down on the sprinting steed legs. Oh it is my most favorite sport. In fact the only one I am truly able to yell uncontrollably or say funny ironic/moronic thing towards. It is sexy as hell. The stop and go, the ball play, the gnarly wipeouts and incredible leans. Oh it is such a turn on. Some ladies have a thing for football players and I thought I was above that. But now I am knee deep in yearning for the sport. No matter who is playing, as long as it plays. It might become like a nervous person and their chill playlist on I tunes. Protective and addicted. I look so excitedly forward to Monday nights where I can watch my new velofam get better and craftier at this sport that has only caught sail in the last few years. And most of that is due to the awesome network of bikers who are always pleasant to be around, no matter where we are from or where we are going. There is a common place that brings us comfortably close to each other, separated by pedals from another saddle.
Check out http://www.flickr.com/photos/mcas/sets/72157616521440044/
AND
http://sfbikepolo.com/YoungbloodInaugural/index.html
It feels likes ages ago yet it was just a week.
I attended San Francisco's recent Young Blood Inaugural sun. April 12, 2009. I was so excited to see this Greater Cascadia bout! I feel like I might fight someone for the title of number one sfbikepolo fan. I was exposed to bike polo in Portland in the magical year of 2002. That is when many awesome things happened in the Portland bicycle history. This is a tangent, but two thousand two was a year that not only Zoobomb, but Axles of Evil bike polo, Shift to Bikes organization, and C.H.U.N.K. 666 held a Chunkathalon. Midnight Mystery rides. Everything came out of the year of Bike Summer.
Since then, it has been my viewing pleasure to witness many a West Side Invites, Slaughteramas, Dead Baby Downhills, and NACCC's. Also local teams gearing up with the new bully, Seattle giving Portland a run for their money, introducing us to it, I hear.
There has always at least been a MEGA rivalry between Portland and Seattle. Witnessing how my new homefront held up was key. And I was thougoughly impressed. Kim and Laird with precision shots, and Xian with an ungodly left handed lean.
I spent my first five years being a professional fan of Cascadia bike polo. My friend and I lived mere blocks away from the Sunday games, and frequently went over, Sparks in tow, picking up mallets to make fire spinning routines with while we were cheering on the carnage. These days we just sat in the bleachers and discussed the playing like a fine wine tasting mixed with the set of an urban, street-slanged lisp and sudden outbursts of fury/acclaim.
I was cheering on my homie Casey on Team Cascadia because I know he has mastered the snake style. some have come close, but none have harnessed it like he has. He was one of the original Portland bikepolo kids, and you can tell he has been putting in his work.
I found myself cheering for LA's 818 because I have a thing for cholos and they had some fine latinos representing so-cal. Then of course, who I had thought would win, but didn't, was the bikeshopcrewcrew with Xian, Laird, and Kim's team. They had been practicing and scheming. The last few weeks at polo the courts were tense and huddled, with know teams who used to be together, now beefing up their skills as a team to dominate all. I heard so many little whisper circles about playing styles and tendencies. Bike ninjas honing their skills of awareness for tournament.
I had spent the late night hours before the morning's event using a nose hair trimmer to carve lightning bolts into Xian's sideburns. We also gave him a double handlebar. It took three hours and three girls hacking away. Maybe in hindsight he should have rested up instead of entertained four girls wanting to play beauty parlor. Oh well, the ride there was B E A utiful! Sunny spring day, prizes lined up at the bbq stand, shade perfectly fell on the bleachers for the diehard fans and quick outers.
That is why bike polo players don't have numbers. Because everyone wants both teams to win. We're all homies. If you travel more than a state to play one of the bloodiest, underrated extreme sports, then you are family. Kindred Spirit.
That is what I saw on Sunday. Each team took turns cheering for their homies, then their victors.
I am beginning to see certain moves that really help if you can pull them off in polo.
I will keep them secret until I decide I won't ever play. Until then I will keep them for my own future polo exploration.
I had a fabulous turkey burger, donated towards some chilled beers, and helped carry the champion crystal mallets with large feathers and ninja scroll wrapping, to the prize pile. yeah. That sounds important, huh?
I am going to do some self hazing to prove that I am the number one bike polo fan.
Look for wacky stunts incredibly terribly pulled off.
Probably will manifest in cheers and slang for when people score. Idioms, if you will.
If you think of any, let me know.
And tons of stomp claps. After all, this area birthed hyphy. Let's make like gentrifiers and collectivize culture.
Anyway, the gladiators threw their mallets around, rolled out of the impossible, held every whimper back even when the sun was beating down on the sprinting steed legs. Oh it is my most favorite sport. In fact the only one I am truly able to yell uncontrollably or say funny ironic/moronic thing towards. It is sexy as hell. The stop and go, the ball play, the gnarly wipeouts and incredible leans. Oh it is such a turn on. Some ladies have a thing for football players and I thought I was above that. But now I am knee deep in yearning for the sport. No matter who is playing, as long as it plays. It might become like a nervous person and their chill playlist on I tunes. Protective and addicted. I look so excitedly forward to Monday nights where I can watch my new velofam get better and craftier at this sport that has only caught sail in the last few years. And most of that is due to the awesome network of bikers who are always pleasant to be around, no matter where we are from or where we are going. There is a common place that brings us comfortably close to each other, separated by pedals from another saddle.
Check out http://www.flickr.com/photos/mcas/sets/72157616521440044/
AND
http://sfbikepolo.com/YoungbloodInaugural/index.html
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
Exciting News from the Homefront!
As an Original Gangsta of Zoobomb, I am pleased to inform you that the city of Portland will be holding and inaugural weekend event to induct the new Zoobomb Pyle.
May 29th, 2009 history will unveil a new level of Rad America and The People's Bike Library of Greater Portland will get a new home.
City Commissioner turned Mayor, Sam Adams, has facilitated meetings with the Regional Arts and Culture Committee (RACC) to secure a competent fabricator and a visionary artist as guidance. Zoobomb was awarded a grant to accomplish this task.
This is why Portland rocks so hard. The Zoobomb team sent their voted representatives to meetings, visionary quests, and seances. Throughout this process, the only way to get a proper Zoobomb vote is to go to the hill and have a meeting under the stars. I love the stories that led to the final design. 100th Monkey and I got to attend an initial meeting with a few representatives before we both took off on different adventures elsewhere. There were drawings to pass around and structures to discuss. I felt so civic!
Now nearly 3 years later, we will have an induction weekend including a parade with the old Pyle put on a platform with many people carrying it on foot to the new area, 14th and Burnside on a swell of concrete on a weird angled street. Yipee!! There will be a plaque, a storage vault for helmets and lights, and at the top a bike, a mini, all tricked out Zoobomb style. Oh joy!
Here are some pics:
May 29th, 2009 history will unveil a new level of Rad America and The People's Bike Library of Greater Portland will get a new home.
City Commissioner turned Mayor, Sam Adams, has facilitated meetings with the Regional Arts and Culture Committee (RACC) to secure a competent fabricator and a visionary artist as guidance. Zoobomb was awarded a grant to accomplish this task.
This is why Portland rocks so hard. The Zoobomb team sent their voted representatives to meetings, visionary quests, and seances. Throughout this process, the only way to get a proper Zoobomb vote is to go to the hill and have a meeting under the stars. I love the stories that led to the final design. 100th Monkey and I got to attend an initial meeting with a few representatives before we both took off on different adventures elsewhere. There were drawings to pass around and structures to discuss. I felt so civic!
Now nearly 3 years later, we will have an induction weekend including a parade with the old Pyle put on a platform with many people carrying it on foot to the new area, 14th and Burnside on a swell of concrete on a weird angled street. Yipee!! There will be a plaque, a storage vault for helmets and lights, and at the top a bike, a mini, all tricked out Zoobomb style. Oh joy!
Here are some pics:
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Tonight! Lost Vegas @ Cellspace
The deets:
***LOST VEGAS***
Saturday April 11th
Cell Casino
2050 Bryant St.
@ 18th
9:00 $20 or so, 21 +
The goods:
The ENTIRE proceeds of this event benifit the Swimming Cities of Serrenissima project: junk boats made of rubbish crashing the hoity toity Bieanalle Art Festival in Venice, Italy. A project of impossible scale and impeccable timing. Please attend to have fun and support this amazing project.
Lost Vegas is a dysfunctional casino environment with actual games and live entertainment.
It’s got all the stuff the real Vegas has, only it’s right here…
You can get chips, to gamble on the games.
There’s a wedding chapel with rings, for short duration marriages officiated over by Church of the Subgenius founder Dr.Hal Robins and Ben Burke!
Tango #9 featruing Zoli on the mike and aerialist Mirium on the Trapeze
The Secret Room where they will be filming the movie “The Sexy” starring the Wink and Yoni show, a washed up Hawaiian lounge band.
Mark Growden Trio.
Freaktronic with Sean Kelly and 15 hot dancers in wifebeaters grinding to the Miami sound. Freaktronic is one of the most disturbing things I have ever witnessed.
Jesse Roadkill starts our night with her songs of the road and her unique timber.
Mongolounge. Lounge versions of Devo songs. They have a xylophone.
The Cheese Puffs! Burlesque to Richard Cheese, famous Vegas singer!
Sparkle Motion, the 80’s never danced so Phil Collins. Smoke machine.
Shake Well, Eric McFadden and Robin Commer rock out with his cock out.
Contortion by Tara Quinn.
The Naked Fire Babes!
The Photo Boof will be there!!!!
Hosted by John Hell (doing his famous Vic Double-longo)
Our headlining performer Otto Von Danger will jump the Ramp of Death (again).
Inside CELL SPACE, Otto will jump on a real motorcycle over the Ramp Of Death over 20 NAKED CHICKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WOW!!!! Hosted by Chicken John
There is also a photo studio where you can get your photo taken on a bearskin rug in front of a fire. These photos are taken on a super fancy camera and the photographer is amazing. If you want to get your photo taken, I suggest you come EARLY! All proceeds go to the boat project.
All gambling is real. You play with chips, that you cash out for valuable prizes like Ritual Coffee and other stuff. This is less spectacle and more action-oriented.
You place the bets! You race the roaches! You spill your drink! It's all about you!!!!
The games this year:
Cockroach Racing
The wheel of SMUT
Quantum Dating Game
Poke-her
Human Wheel of Death
Rat Roulette
Craps And much much more!!!!!!
LET IT RIDE: Just like the big boys, you can win big! Big! BIG!!!!
ROCK: To the sounds of Shake Well, Eric McFaddin and Robin Coomer!!!
WEEP: Like a baby as our sharks take all your chips!
MARVEL: Mirium on the Trapeze!
VOW: Rev. Hal or Rev.
Burke will offer short duration marriages!
CROON: Freaktronic will confuse you!
SWOON: The Cheese Puffs will steal your heart!
CASH OUT: Take home a nice prize at the redemption booth!
OOGLE: Sparkle Motion is a leg-warm-a-thon!
CRY: Out in disgust at our cockroach racing!
SLUR: Your words, by patronizing our bar!
DRESS: To the nines; Lost Vegas has an un-enforced dress code
Monday, April 6, 2009
This Sat. 11th: Lost Vegas @ Cell Space
photo by Scott Beale/ Laughing Squid
From Chicken John:
photo by Tod Seelie
The idea is to take the junk boats to Venice, to this event called the Beinalle. It’s a super high faluton mosters of rock art thing. If your in the Beinalle, you win. I mean, if the Beinalle curates your work. It’s a festival. It happens twice a year. From what I understand, it has destroyed Venice. Venice is now outnumbered 4 to one with regards to tourists to people who live there. They come from all over, and it’s not the jellato. This festival ignores outsider art. Complelty. We are going to crash it, with out boats and our clown show. Like gangstas. What the fuck are they gonna do? Venice, as a city, is bankrupt. Where there once were beautiful squares there are now giant adverts and billboards for Coke and Cell Phone this or that. The disdain for this festival is growing, and I’m happy to help push.
this photo is by Jag, notice how the junk boats look as compared to a $500,000 sailboat? Interesting... this is by Tap And Zee bridge, Hudson. There are 7 junk boats in total, in that mush.
If they impound our boats, they are embracing a $50,000 garbage liability. I’d like to see the cops arrest clowns in front of all the kids. I mean really, what are they gonna do? We’ll fake some paperwork and start making balloon animals. The boats are in Slovenia, in a container. I was scheduled to go there this week and start building. But there is no money. So I booked a fund raiser. It’s this Saturday, at CELL SPACE. Here is a write up. I’m gonna write more about the boat project this week. It’s a busy week in Chicken Land. Pardon the traffic on the list, please…
******************************
photo by Scott Beale
The roach decided to stop right there. These 2 guys are trying to encourage the champion racer to continue. It's a great photo...
The RAMP OF DEATH, which is on FUCKING FIRE!!!! Otto Von Danger jumped this ramp. Sure he did. Yea, prove it.
photo by Scott Beale
Lost Vegas is a dysfunctional casino environment with actual games and live entertainment. It’s got all the stuff the real Vegas has, only it’s right here… but only on Saturday April 11th. You get chips, to gamble on the games. There’s a wedding chapel with rings, for short duration marriages. Tango band. Trapeze arielist. The Secret Room where they will be filming the movie “The Sexy” starring the Wink and Yoni show, a washed up Hawaiian lounge band. There is also a photo studio where you can gets your photo taken on a bearskin rug in front of a fire. A Devo cover band that plays lounge versions of all the hits. The Cheese Puffs, Sparkle Motion, The Naked Fire Babes… the list goes on and on ...
Caution Mike snapped this photo of Ben Burke doing his wedding chapel thing in NYC's Lost Vegas hosted by Madagascar Institute.
The games this year:
Cockroach Racing
The wheel of SMUT
Rat Roulette
Quantum Dating Game
Poke-her
Human Wheel of Death
Crap
Showgirls
Short duration marriages (with Dr. Hal and Ben Burke)
Live music
Boy rental
All gambling is real. You play with chips, that you cash out for valuable prizes. Ahem. This is less spectacle and more action-oriented. You place the bets! You race the roaches! You spill your drink! It's all about you!!!!
Our headlining performer Otto Von Danger will jump the Ramp of Death (again).
Inside CELL SPACE, Otto will jump (on a real motorcycle) the Ramp Of Death over 20 NAKED CHICKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOW!!!!
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Old (like 2 weeks ago) writings:
Because I want to document this process, I want to keep some of the writings that erupted out my fingers these past few weeks. It's been all of what I have been doing, and here's a taste.
march 7th 2009
Fund raising efforts:
Hollis' story has been circulated far and wide through emails and blogs, as well as two cover stories in the Times of India and The Hindu. Local coverage of the incident has been minimal, and we are looking to expand the scope of information. The website has been a successful tool for information and donations through the paypal button. This week there are four benefit shows planned in three cities. New York City, Portland, and San Francisco are throwing shows and art auctions to raise funds toward our goal of $200k. This money will go towards air transport and medical costs accrued in the past and future.
As her goal in India was to seek a yoga teacher, many Yoga establishments in the bay area and beyond have also set up yoga fundraisers, an alternative to the nightlife option of support. As we stand today, close to 1500 people have donated on paypal, as well as 50 people who have sent checks to the bank account set up for her. We are nearing $70,000 raised through these efforts, but we still have further to go.
As the website administrator and paypal account holder, I have been receiving thousands of emails from around the world expressing well wishes to Hollis. One of every 15 emails expresses the fact that the donator does not even know Hollis, but they have been moved by the story or received multiple emails from trusted community members urging their support. Her story is truly unique in the fact that her base community in the Bay Area consists of artists and activists with limited funds, but big hearts. Her dedicated work in the community has inspired many people to reach out a helping hand, no matter their personal finance situations. The most amazing thing about this terrible situation is the sheer amount of quick actions and the volunteers that have stood forward to be counted in her recovery. It has been a testimonial to the power of the internet and the dedication of her community to provide her with the monetary insurance she is not able to afford in our current economy.
Her story is a study about the viral quickness of the internet community as well as a study of an alternative economic abilities of the world wide web. Her story highlights the catalyst of caring that has caused so many people to organize and throw parties in her honor. No matter the outcome of her situation, the community around her is feeling a sense of responsibility and outward giving that makes our entire world a better place.
We are looking to close the gap on our financial goal, as well as secure airplane help to lower the cost of transportation in order to put more of the money donated to her long term recovery plan. We are working against the clock to get her to Stanford where state-of-the-art neuroscience is waiting. Her community is also anxious to lend a helping hand at her bedside, pledging delicate stimuli, songs, flowers, and kisses on the cheek to encourage her to wake.
march 7th 2009
Fund raising efforts:
Hollis' story has been circulated far and wide through emails and blogs, as well as two cover stories in the Times of India and The Hindu. Local coverage of the incident has been minimal, and we are looking to expand the scope of information. The website has been a successful tool for information and donations through the paypal button. This week there are four benefit shows planned in three cities. New York City, Portland, and San Francisco are throwing shows and art auctions to raise funds toward our goal of $200k. This money will go towards air transport and medical costs accrued in the past and future.
As her goal in India was to seek a yoga teacher, many Yoga establishments in the bay area and beyond have also set up yoga fundraisers, an alternative to the nightlife option of support. As we stand today, close to 1500 people have donated on paypal, as well as 50 people who have sent checks to the bank account set up for her. We are nearing $70,000 raised through these efforts, but we still have further to go.
As the website administrator and paypal account holder, I have been receiving thousands of emails from around the world expressing well wishes to Hollis. One of every 15 emails expresses the fact that the donator does not even know Hollis, but they have been moved by the story or received multiple emails from trusted community members urging their support. Her story is truly unique in the fact that her base community in the Bay Area consists of artists and activists with limited funds, but big hearts. Her dedicated work in the community has inspired many people to reach out a helping hand, no matter their personal finance situations. The most amazing thing about this terrible situation is the sheer amount of quick actions and the volunteers that have stood forward to be counted in her recovery. It has been a testimonial to the power of the internet and the dedication of her community to provide her with the monetary insurance she is not able to afford in our current economy.
Her story is a study about the viral quickness of the internet community as well as a study of an alternative economic abilities of the world wide web. Her story highlights the catalyst of caring that has caused so many people to organize and throw parties in her honor. No matter the outcome of her situation, the community around her is feeling a sense of responsibility and outward giving that makes our entire world a better place.
We are looking to close the gap on our financial goal, as well as secure airplane help to lower the cost of transportation in order to put more of the money donated to her long term recovery plan. We are working against the clock to get her to Stanford where state-of-the-art neuroscience is waiting. Her community is also anxious to lend a helping hand at her bedside, pledging delicate stimuli, songs, flowers, and kisses on the cheek to encourage her to wake.
Friday, March 20, 2009
How it all happenend: My side of the story
Three weeks ago I was at the Independent dancing to Extra Action Marching band. I love their music. I can't stop wiggling about when they are playing. I have almost memorized their set. Well, this time I stopped halfway through and sort of stood there, staring. I wanted to watch their non-verbal communication, watch them posture. I don't know, but I was all of a sudden very heavy. As soon as they stopped playing, my phone lit up and vibrated my leg. It was 11:11 and I was getting a phonecall. It was "Harrison Golden Boy" so I ran outside. He was not supposed to be calling me. He was in India with Holllis. I answered and his voice was shaky. He told me that Hollis had been in a very bad motorcycle accident and was loosing a lot of blood. He asked me if I knew her blood type so she could get a transfusion when the ambulance arrived. Luckily I was only a few blocks from my house, so I ran like that Jamaican sprinter that killed in at the Olympics. I got home and tore through my room. Hollis and I were sharing a room. She took my room while I went to Thailand and Portland, and we were going to share it for a few months because I didn't have a job (she took my place at Last Gasp) and she didn't have a place to stay. We were used to this sort of lifestyle because since I moved here we have had the most tremendous sleepover posse. Most days the week we slept over together, ususally at Jamie Bond's house, or mine, or Frannies. Sleepover crew. To get through the economic crisis we were going to be roomates with special text warnings if we wanted to get any action.
She had a few letters in the mail. I ripped them open to see if her parents names were on her insurance statement. I felt so bad, I didn't even know their names or where to start. There are a lot of Hawthornes in the world. I found a fanny pack with cards a paper, frantically searched for a sign, a name, anyone in Nashville's contact. Then I found her planner and looked in the back and it had her father's address. I called 411 and got their number with the information. I was racing the clock, and it had already been ten minutes since the Golden Boy's call.
It must be 2 or3 am in Nashville when it connected through. The person on the other line picked up with a heavy southern drawl. Oh yeah, Hollis tried so hard to not speak in that drawl, but it came out when drinking. Her father didn't know, so he gave me Heather, her sister's number.
I called her and she had one of those fancy phone services where it plays you a song while it's ringing. She didn't pick up so I called three more times in a row. I figured she would understand that it was an emergency. I forgot my bedside manners and went straight to the point.
"Hello Heather, sorry to disturb you so late, but my name is Eliza, and I am best friends with Hollis. She has been in a bad motorcycle accident in India and we need to know her blood type."
Luckily she is a nurse and knew to spring into action.
She called her mother, Diane, then called me back. That three minutes between phone calls was the longes three minutes ever. I am too full of adrenaline at this point to cry or do much of anything. She calls me back and I relay it to Harrison. In the background of the phonecall I can hear the ambulance siren. That's when it hit me as to how far away she was. The siren sounded different, but nonetheless tragic. I was glad to know she was in the hands of professionals. Oh gosh Hollis, why? She had even said something like, " If I die in a motorcycle crash in India." Don't be a prophet, Hollis!
I wanted to do more. I am a den mother of sorts, always being a medic or making herbal remedies for my sick or fallen friends. She was too far away for me to help Harrison. AHHHHH! This sucks!
I get on the computer, the one Hollis left for me to use, and I look up the consulate. I remember Harrison said they were in Pundicherry Tamil Namu state, so I tried to find the closest one. I sent out emails to them telling them the situation and that they would need a translator at the Hospital. I got an instant reply that said the office was closed at the moment. They had an "if this is a medical emergency" section that showed a couple of Hospitals in the area. I emailed each one and let them know that an American Tourist was on the way with a head wound from a motorcycle and that they needed a translator and possible money assistance.
Then I found a number on the consulate's website and called it. This was my forst international phone call I had ever made, and it turned out to cost like $150 bucks. Doesn't matter. I called them and let them know the situation, and told them they might need financial and language assistance at the Hospital. They took down Harrison's number, and Heather's as a representative of the family.
They called 20 minutes later and let me know they reached Harrison and would take it from here. Now it's about 1:00am and I have done all I can. Now what?
Cry. I cried so hard and loud and unregrettfully. I let out my grief and bewilderment.
Jamie Bond had come home and she was having a hard time too. She called her mom and her mother who is a Reiki Master and she said she would start to work on Hollis right away from her place in Northern California.
After I composed myself and chugged a bunch of brandy, I grabbed these golden mardi gras beads and used them as a rosary. I sat and meditated on Hollis, imagining her skull setting back to where it should be, reconnecting her meninges that houses her cerebral spinal fluid. I also imagined her being surrounded by small balls of golden light, like she was in a ball pit at Chuch E. Cheese. These balls of golden light were the positive healing thoughts I was sending. They began to merge together to form a full protective shield where she could float weightless while she was stabilizing and repairing herself. Then I was aware of Cindy Bond, I felt her presence and I felt the presence of her community. She was pulling energy from them whether they knew it or not. It was a neat moment or realization that someone else was there. That is when I realized that I could use Harrison as a connecting rod to her as well. I knew he was tight by her side, giving her his precious golden light, and I could use him to funnel more love to her, while giving him support in this most terrible moment.
She had a few letters in the mail. I ripped them open to see if her parents names were on her insurance statement. I felt so bad, I didn't even know their names or where to start. There are a lot of Hawthornes in the world. I found a fanny pack with cards a paper, frantically searched for a sign, a name, anyone in Nashville's contact. Then I found her planner and looked in the back and it had her father's address. I called 411 and got their number with the information. I was racing the clock, and it had already been ten minutes since the Golden Boy's call.
It must be 2 or3 am in Nashville when it connected through. The person on the other line picked up with a heavy southern drawl. Oh yeah, Hollis tried so hard to not speak in that drawl, but it came out when drinking. Her father didn't know, so he gave me Heather, her sister's number.
I called her and she had one of those fancy phone services where it plays you a song while it's ringing. She didn't pick up so I called three more times in a row. I figured she would understand that it was an emergency. I forgot my bedside manners and went straight to the point.
"Hello Heather, sorry to disturb you so late, but my name is Eliza, and I am best friends with Hollis. She has been in a bad motorcycle accident in India and we need to know her blood type."
Luckily she is a nurse and knew to spring into action.
She called her mother, Diane, then called me back. That three minutes between phone calls was the longes three minutes ever. I am too full of adrenaline at this point to cry or do much of anything. She calls me back and I relay it to Harrison. In the background of the phonecall I can hear the ambulance siren. That's when it hit me as to how far away she was. The siren sounded different, but nonetheless tragic. I was glad to know she was in the hands of professionals. Oh gosh Hollis, why? She had even said something like, " If I die in a motorcycle crash in India." Don't be a prophet, Hollis!
I wanted to do more. I am a den mother of sorts, always being a medic or making herbal remedies for my sick or fallen friends. She was too far away for me to help Harrison. AHHHHH! This sucks!
I get on the computer, the one Hollis left for me to use, and I look up the consulate. I remember Harrison said they were in Pundicherry Tamil Namu state, so I tried to find the closest one. I sent out emails to them telling them the situation and that they would need a translator at the Hospital. I got an instant reply that said the office was closed at the moment. They had an "if this is a medical emergency" section that showed a couple of Hospitals in the area. I emailed each one and let them know that an American Tourist was on the way with a head wound from a motorcycle and that they needed a translator and possible money assistance.
Then I found a number on the consulate's website and called it. This was my forst international phone call I had ever made, and it turned out to cost like $150 bucks. Doesn't matter. I called them and let them know the situation, and told them they might need financial and language assistance at the Hospital. They took down Harrison's number, and Heather's as a representative of the family.
They called 20 minutes later and let me know they reached Harrison and would take it from here. Now it's about 1:00am and I have done all I can. Now what?
Cry. I cried so hard and loud and unregrettfully. I let out my grief and bewilderment.
Jamie Bond had come home and she was having a hard time too. She called her mom and her mother who is a Reiki Master and she said she would start to work on Hollis right away from her place in Northern California.
After I composed myself and chugged a bunch of brandy, I grabbed these golden mardi gras beads and used them as a rosary. I sat and meditated on Hollis, imagining her skull setting back to where it should be, reconnecting her meninges that houses her cerebral spinal fluid. I also imagined her being surrounded by small balls of golden light, like she was in a ball pit at Chuch E. Cheese. These balls of golden light were the positive healing thoughts I was sending. They began to merge together to form a full protective shield where she could float weightless while she was stabilizing and repairing herself. Then I was aware of Cindy Bond, I felt her presence and I felt the presence of her community. She was pulling energy from them whether they knew it or not. It was a neat moment or realization that someone else was there. That is when I realized that I could use Harrison as a connecting rod to her as well. I knew he was tight by her side, giving her his precious golden light, and I could use him to funnel more love to her, while giving him support in this most terrible moment.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Bike Art Needed in the Mission:
yo dudes, if you make bike art, check this out:
http://velovogue.blogspot.com/2009/03/new-mission-cafe-seeks-bike-art.html
http://velovogue.blogspot.com/2009/03/new-mission-cafe-seeks-bike-art.html
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Surfing the tidal wave...to the shore
It seems like the last 10 days have been a lifetime.
I did my best to stay on my surf board, toes on the nose, sprinting through the swell.
Don't look down. Feel the electricity. The ionization electrifies.
This is what it feels to be alive and on top of it, accelerating forward beyond your control.
The emotions in my head are bouncing around like water molecules.
First and foremost, I am very proud. I am now confident that I can rise to any occasion. And what an a occasion this week has been! Never could I have thought that a week after returning to SF, after my rockstar stint in Portland, would I be dealing with blood types, websites, holy gatherings, paypal, broken ribs, consulates, animated gif's, non-profits, air ambulances, and burners. Lots of burners. (I love you all btw, but I have still never gone.) I never would have thought that I would have to deal with the consequences of a quick$65k in my bank account while I personally just have enough for rent. At least it makes it easy to calculate.
I am so absolutely astonished at how quick everyone sprung to action.
It makes me think of the dew that catches on a web that makes you realize it's there.
This network of doers, performers, thinkers, creators.
It's usually invisible, but the golden threads are found, attached to our crowns, giving us a ground. We are always at the forefront of the storm, shining our glow into the dark, pushing back the clouds with our lightningbolts.
In this tempest I think of you, Hollis. All the little things like drinking tea, watching movies on the victorian fainting couch with the kwanza bench afoot. The way you try to pronounce fancy words with your southern ignorance conciously tucked deep down, trying to get out. I think of every single moment we have had together, like a slideshow in my periphereal vision. Us tap dancing in the livingroom to that video of the lady with uncomfortable stretchpant suspenders. You teaching me how to do the booty quake. Your love of dumpster diving. That stupid car you had that you kidnapped me in. With the huge heart hanging from the rear view mirror that blocked a large portion of the windshield. The silver window shade you always put up because half of the time you were living in your car.
You wanted a place to settle so bad. You were sick of sharing rooms. House sitting. Baby sitting. Ever since we moved out of the willow street house, you had been searching for a home. You thanked me before you left to India, because you realized that you had a pattern of running away, and the reason you were in the bay still was that your family here wouldn't let you go.
Oh god is that ever true now. We've got you whether you like it or not.
Here is where my thoughts bounce again, like water in the sun.
I am chasing something too. I am not sure what I am supposed to do here. I thought it might be The Derailleurs, but now Im not sure. There is something that has been calling me louder and louder, and is now screaming in my ear. I need to go to massage school in Floyd, VA for a year. I can come back, I just need this opportunity. I need to learn chinese massage and I need to cultivate my internal workings. I need to study gongfu intensely. But I have to huslte it. And I just spent a week helping you get hooked up with $65k. I used to be so afraid of money until that moment. That is how much I have made in 5 or 6 years! In a week! I need $8k to go to school without loans. I need $3k to go to school period because my angel of a godfather will give me a competitive loan, but I need to come up with 1/4. In one month. Why does it seem so impossible? Is it too early to move out of this city? How can I make that money whenI don't have a job or any skills? With broken ribs?
Which, by the way, SUCK! This is the worst pain I have ever felt, constantly. Oh how walking the line of yin and yang is such a parabolic adventure. Two weeks ago I am on top of the world. My old job in Portland worked out while I was there. The FUN Movement I helped with is growing new wings. The Sprockettes are all so loveable and they let me perform for them. I saw new mutant bike games. My life highlights were satyrized in musical theater. Of course I needed to come down from that high. But I enjoyed typing away at the computer for Hollis. I didn't have time to get upset or sad or slow and thick with inability to help the situation. And with my organ protector shield down, I have had to stay inside and push out the walls of the blogoshphere.
I hope I can make it on this board to shore. I want to cruise on this wave to shore, away from the curl, and out into the surf, where I can float to sand, calm and at peace. But it seems like the way I have set it up, that I am already tumbling in the gray chaos between sand and water, unaware of which way is up, unable to breath, fully aware of the next wave ready to pounce.
Is this what they call a "Saturn's Return"?
I did my best to stay on my surf board, toes on the nose, sprinting through the swell.
Don't look down. Feel the electricity. The ionization electrifies.
This is what it feels to be alive and on top of it, accelerating forward beyond your control.
The emotions in my head are bouncing around like water molecules.
First and foremost, I am very proud. I am now confident that I can rise to any occasion. And what an a occasion this week has been! Never could I have thought that a week after returning to SF, after my rockstar stint in Portland, would I be dealing with blood types, websites, holy gatherings, paypal, broken ribs, consulates, animated gif's, non-profits, air ambulances, and burners. Lots of burners. (I love you all btw, but I have still never gone.) I never would have thought that I would have to deal with the consequences of a quick$65k in my bank account while I personally just have enough for rent. At least it makes it easy to calculate.
I am so absolutely astonished at how quick everyone sprung to action.
It makes me think of the dew that catches on a web that makes you realize it's there.
This network of doers, performers, thinkers, creators.
It's usually invisible, but the golden threads are found, attached to our crowns, giving us a ground. We are always at the forefront of the storm, shining our glow into the dark, pushing back the clouds with our lightningbolts.
In this tempest I think of you, Hollis. All the little things like drinking tea, watching movies on the victorian fainting couch with the kwanza bench afoot. The way you try to pronounce fancy words with your southern ignorance conciously tucked deep down, trying to get out. I think of every single moment we have had together, like a slideshow in my periphereal vision. Us tap dancing in the livingroom to that video of the lady with uncomfortable stretchpant suspenders. You teaching me how to do the booty quake. Your love of dumpster diving. That stupid car you had that you kidnapped me in. With the huge heart hanging from the rear view mirror that blocked a large portion of the windshield. The silver window shade you always put up because half of the time you were living in your car.
You wanted a place to settle so bad. You were sick of sharing rooms. House sitting. Baby sitting. Ever since we moved out of the willow street house, you had been searching for a home. You thanked me before you left to India, because you realized that you had a pattern of running away, and the reason you were in the bay still was that your family here wouldn't let you go.
Oh god is that ever true now. We've got you whether you like it or not.
Here is where my thoughts bounce again, like water in the sun.
I am chasing something too. I am not sure what I am supposed to do here. I thought it might be The Derailleurs, but now Im not sure. There is something that has been calling me louder and louder, and is now screaming in my ear. I need to go to massage school in Floyd, VA for a year. I can come back, I just need this opportunity. I need to learn chinese massage and I need to cultivate my internal workings. I need to study gongfu intensely. But I have to huslte it. And I just spent a week helping you get hooked up with $65k. I used to be so afraid of money until that moment. That is how much I have made in 5 or 6 years! In a week! I need $8k to go to school without loans. I need $3k to go to school period because my angel of a godfather will give me a competitive loan, but I need to come up with 1/4. In one month. Why does it seem so impossible? Is it too early to move out of this city? How can I make that money whenI don't have a job or any skills? With broken ribs?
Which, by the way, SUCK! This is the worst pain I have ever felt, constantly. Oh how walking the line of yin and yang is such a parabolic adventure. Two weeks ago I am on top of the world. My old job in Portland worked out while I was there. The FUN Movement I helped with is growing new wings. The Sprockettes are all so loveable and they let me perform for them. I saw new mutant bike games. My life highlights were satyrized in musical theater. Of course I needed to come down from that high. But I enjoyed typing away at the computer for Hollis. I didn't have time to get upset or sad or slow and thick with inability to help the situation. And with my organ protector shield down, I have had to stay inside and push out the walls of the blogoshphere.
I hope I can make it on this board to shore. I want to cruise on this wave to shore, away from the curl, and out into the surf, where I can float to sand, calm and at peace. But it seems like the way I have set it up, that I am already tumbling in the gray chaos between sand and water, unaware of which way is up, unable to breath, fully aware of the next wave ready to pounce.
Is this what they call a "Saturn's Return"?
Friday, March 6, 2009
Why I haven't blogged:
FRIENDSOFHOLLIS.BLOGSPOT.COM
FRIENDSOFHOLLIS.BLOGSPOT.COM
FRIENDSOFHOLLIS.BLOGSPOT.COM
Can't talk, saving a life...
FRIENDSOFHOLLIS.BLOGSPOT.COM
FRIENDSOFHOLLIS.BLOGSPOT.COM
Can't talk, saving a life...
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