MY LIFE AND THOUGHTS

All three of the readings were really fun, but the highlight, for me, was probably Berkeley. First of all, I got to take the BART, which is always a pleasure. This time, for example, the train stopped in the Powell St. station for twenty minutes. What a treat! All too often, commuter trains are in such a hurry to get from one station to another, that the individuality of these stations just dissolves into a kind of blur. Now, for once, I was able to give the Powell St. station the attention it so richly deserves, drinking in that easily overlooked je-ne-sais-quoi which differentiates it from stations like Montgomery St. or Embarcadero.

Powell St. BART	Embarcadero BART

Eventually, a BART official came into the car and said the train was broken. An old guy started yelling something about a secret conspiracy not to tell passengers when they have to get off the train; this was bad for him because he needed advance notice to move his clothes. Old guy (shouting): “Why is it a secret?” BART official: “It’s not a secret, sir—it’s a protocol.”

Over the next forty minutes, a drunk guy was forcibly carried out of the next car, the broken train was removed from the tracks, and the teeming populace, including me, managed to pile into the next Richmond train. At last, I was on my way to Berkeley! Berkeley, where Mario Savio exhorted the masses to put their bodies on the gears of the machine—where Alan Ginsberg strode down the supermarket aisles with Walt Whitman, sampling the artichokes and pursued by the store detective!

I reached the university just as it was getting dark. The reading was in McCone Hall, which is right off of Hearst St., and theoretically easy to locate. For me personally, however, it wasn’t so easy because, instead of just walking down Hearst St. like a normal person, I wandered onto the university grounds and almost fell into some kind of wooded creek. Spotting a human figure in the distance, I ran to ask him for directions. The figure turned out to be a very young and alarmed-looking man with a fluffy beard. Alarmed-looking young man: “McCone Hall? Is that the engineering building?” Batuman: “No, I think it’s Earth and Planetary Sciences.” Alarmed-looking young man: “I only know the engineering building!”

By the time I got to the right group of buildings, total darkness had descended. A faceless pedestrian was striding through the murk towards me. I managed to intercept him—he also had a beard—and asked where McCone Hall was. Bearded guy: “I have worked here all my life and have never heard of such a building.” Batuman: “I think it’s the Earth and Planetary Sciences building.” Bearded guy: “Well, that’s the Earth and Planetary Sciences building” (indicating the closest building). “But it’s not Mc—what did you say it was? Why do you want this building anyway? What’s there?”

I hastened to inform him what was there, namely, a reading by writers for the exciting new literary magazine, n+1. The bearded guy immediately assumed the tense, worried expression of someone keen on avoiding a literary reading. “Sorry I can’t help you,” he blurted, and started walking very quickly in the opposite direction.

Wondering what to do next, I looked up at the closest building—and noticed the letters emblazoned high over one of the doors: “MCCONE HALL.” “Hey, this is it!” I called after the retreating bearded guy. “This is McCone Hall!”

The bearded guy didn’t slow down. “So it was the Earth and Planetary Sciences building!” he called over his shoulder, and vanished into the distance.

To be continued…

Tags: academic life, Bay Area public transportation, beards, events, n+1

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