I'm a lasagna boy!

A world in which MUNI is on schedule.

Riding MUNI and staring distractedly out the window, I imagined the multiverse, that in some orthogonal world the driver had sped up and whizzed past these buildings (are they there in the other world?) a little faster, we'd hit a different sequence of lights.
... or that the buildings were slightly taller, the light hadn't distracted the driver, causing him to slow down. Or that the buildings were painted a different colour; that the cars hadn't changed lanes, forcing the trolley to slow down; that I had caught a MUNI driven by an auto-pilot; that MUNI had precedence over autos; usw.

Walking home, I found a copy of Michael Crichton's "Timeline", a novel with quantum mechanics as its trope.

Always a Siren, steering you to ship-wreck

Caltrain's much-heralded "Baby Bullet" service made its début last week:

Caltrain spokeswoman Rita Haskin, described the Baby Bullet's premiere as perfect except that the commuter railroad had to turn away a couple of dozen bicyclists after the bike storage areas, which have half the capacity of normal trains, quickly filled.

"We had room for all the bicyclists but not for their bikes,'' she said. "But for commuters ... we think their expectations were met.''

Today, I arrived on the platform a full fifteen minutes before the train, but already a line of 12 cyclists had gathered. One was trying to arrange a queue to board the train -- only 16 cyclists per! -- and others, like me, disorganisedly waited on the platform. Ten days after services started, Caltrain shows no indication of improving service: mobs milled about the platform, but the handicapped ("mini-high") ramp impeded the flow of traffic from the platform entrance to the ticket-vending machines. And the impromptu queue of cyclists blocked the entire area between the platform entrance and the passenger area.

The train arrived; the conductor hopped down from the train, announced "We have space for ten bikes," and a mad rush ensued. I stood back and watched as some cyclists ducked in one door while the conductor was trying to count bikes at the other entrance; when he walked down to help a wheelchair-bound passenger board, yet more cyclists leaped on.
(And why, despite having new rolling stock and new platforms, platforms specially made for wheelchairs, do conductors need to intervene and help passengers board from the handicapped ramps?)

Caltrain's sanctimonious press release shifts the blame for the rush to cyclists:

Some cyclists did not seem to be aware of the bike capacity on Bullet trains and were not able to board these trains. Initially, we also had a problem when the Baby Bullet equipment was used in non-Bullet service during the commute and some waiting cyclists had to be turned away. Caltrain’s operations staff reallocated equipment so we can be assured of having at least 32 bike spaces in non-Bullet peak service.

Caltrain held public hearings and conducted extensive surveys in preparation for this train's launch; surely they knew that demand would be heavy?

Two things about this Caltrain project impress me favourably: that it was completed on time, and that it was undertaken at all. I hope that Caltrain reëvaluates the level of service on the Baby Bullet, and is able to accomodate its ridership.

In order to meet the demanding growth within the state, we need to focus on massive public-transit infrastructure and not encourage the use of inefficient private transit.

Palo Alto town fathers are stolidly considering high-speed rail across the Dumbarton, the stinkiest of bridges (the Golden Gate is the most beautiful, the Bay Bridge the most aggravating, the Richmond-San Rafael the most under-construction, the Carquinez the most industrial, and the Al Zampa the most engineered. The San Mateo isn't a bridge, it's a causeway, a causeway for alarm if you ask me).

The Transbay Terminal has received final approval from the San Francisco Board of Supervisors, and requests for complete funding are underway, even though the railroad alignment and right-of-way are under dispute.

Music: "There There" by Radiohead.

It works on two levels!

Cutting remarks from dullards.
... and speaking of which, how about them bicycle-mounted sidewalk-printing dot-matrix printers?

I know why the MUNI trains lock up

After an exhilarating morning cycle -- the breeze was delicious against the warm sunlight -- I took the train home this evening.

The Embarcadero Shuttle was in full effect, minus the ticket machines (2 of 3 on the platform were out of order; 1 was cheerlessly rebooting).

Can you bounce with me?

Listening to "Tusk" from the album Greatest Hits (European) by Fleetwood Mac. On the bus to work this morning, I patiently waded through the 700-odd songs by The Fall that turned up on the iPod. "Big New Prinz" is probably the best song ever, and it has what, two notes on the bass riff?
Dug out my CD of Otomo Yoshihide's dynamic trio with David Moss and John King, and I'm bumping that against the Jay-Z Unplugged CD.

With forked tongues

Irregardless, speaking more than one language keeps your brain sharp.

Sudden organ

I forgot my iPod in its cosy dock this morning, but remembered the "Radio" feature in iTunes; imagine my joy (and surprise) when I tuned in a station described as "Vintage Punk Rock" to hear the kick-off of The Fall's "Rowche Rumble."
I got an addiction like a hole in the ass: note to self: go home and listen to 4 tunna brix EP.

Good for the dIeT

A trade publication ran a story on story on Iceland's drive to bring fiber to all 65,000 residences in the capital, Reykjavik. Wonder if this means that GarageBand files will transfer easily amongst the budding indie-rock bands.