So I’m in San Jose.

For that group of you rooting for my Mad Biking Ski11z, hold your applause.

A week ago, I was in Portland, which was pretty cool. I think of someone held a gun to my head and said I’d have to move to an American city, it might be the one. Unfortunately, on that Thursday, everyone else in the world also decided that Portland is cool, and reserved rooms ahead of me. I called five or six different establishments and simply could not secure housing. Also, the giant network of Buddhists eager to house me bizarrely failed to manifest, so I was out of luck there too.

I tried a new, more nonviolent type of panic: I took inventory of my needs. What did I want then? Well, I wanted to continue feeling some sense of progress–I definitely did not want to abort, though I was feeling quite discouraged. I wanted familiarity (is that a need?), and I wanted the ease that comes of not having to check constantly to see if I have a place to sleep.

My steadfast, tolerant, and loving friends in San Jose, A– and M–, fit this bill. I checked Amtrak. Oh, look–a train to San Jose in two hours. I could just make it. I called A–. “Do you mind if I show up tomorrow at ten?”

“Sure,” he said. I could hear a slightly bemused smile in his tone. Aaaah. I felt more relaxed already.

I stuffed my things into my panniers and made for the station, not far at all from the hostel. I cast about for a pedal wrench (you have to take your pedals off and slightly box up your bike on that route). There was none to be had. I got to the station, and hauled mightily on my pedals with a 6 mm wrench. Ha ha! That fitting is on the pedal for purely cosmetic reasons, apparently.

The people on the phone lied, and the station has a pedal wrench after all. I proceeded to loosen up the headset on my bike, which does absolutely nothing to let you twist the handlebars to get parallel with the front wheel. That’s just a single, handy bolt. Oops.

So I got my bike boxed with about five minutes to spare, and got on a very long train ride (about 20 hours). As usual I was left feeling dizzy from the motion of the train and lack of sleep, so M– kindly picked me up from the station.

A– and M– have been excellent hosts, including me in their lives generously, sharing not just space and food but also a lot of hard-won wisdom. I’ve been really impressed particularly by their skills in having a polyamorous marriage. I often talk to them about such things, and it’s nice to have it be a much richer thing that just giving or getting advice. There’s a mutual reaching into our shared resources and experience, an exploration of what amounts to largely unmapped territory.

After a lot of lying around and reading comics when I’m left to my own devices, I finally mounted my bike again, after putting it back together (turns out you can use the hex key to put the pedals on, at least). As usual it feels weird when it’s not got 60 lbs. of stuff on it (I finally measured). And my wrists and knees are complaining noticeably about it. I’d had a massage a couple days after I got into town, and the masseur supported my idea that perhaps I should quit torturing my body and do what I’d been considering (but branding myself a wimp for): get a bike that doesn’t do that to me.

I ordered a Volae Expedition, after a lot of research, and determining that, surprisingly, the in-stock recumbent options in the south bay aren’t very good. Since it takes approximately forever (one week) for things to get here from Wisconsin, I will be in SJ for a little while yet.

It’s a good thing I defined this as kind of a spiritual journey as well as a literal travelogue or I’d have not much to write about.

In other retail-therapy news, people who worry about me will be pleased to know I also ordered some roadid.com dog tags, which will link to my medical and contact information in case I turn up somewhere unconscious. As long as my head remains on my body, I should be identifiable.

Other topics: I’m still trying to stretch myself here and there. I learned to jump rope with A–’s help; he’s a great teacher, motivating without being harsh. I was able to laugh at my mistakes, something that’s kind of new and kind of on purpose. I recall being at the Deception Pass campsite, and starting to get all over my case about forgetting something or other–I forced myself to laugh at it, basically faking it. But even so, it broke the cycle of self-recrimination.

Sex: I’ve meeting a variety of incredibly attractive women (lady touring bikers: they are independent-minded, very fit, and wear lycra; tourists from other lands: often fit just by being young, and they have hot accents). I normally put some energy into feeling bad about this, as being sexually attracted to attractive people is an obvious sign that I will spin into some kind of horrendous moral degeneracy where I callously use women only for sex. Because, you know, I have this long track record of treating women really badly.

Oh, wait.

So anyway, this is a stupid thing. In conversation with A–, I dug out some patterns. That foolish story has some other factors, which it is perhaps designed to “protect” me against. These would be wildly conflicting desires and stories that say (this is not an exhaustive list) that relationships “should” a) be totally fulfilling on every level, preferably immediately; b) be without effort and centered completely on my needs; and/or c) somehow heal all my hang-ups about my story that not getting laid means I’m a worthless and ugly person.

Now that all sounds sort of complicated, and it is. But of course, just going on a date is not actually all that complicated, and for all that I’ve got baggage, it is not in fact necessary to fix all of it before I am allowed the, after all, somewhat pedestrian human behaviour of courtship, dating, sex, etc. Contrary to what certain internal persons might maintain, and supported even by my own experience, when I have managed to get out of my own way for a little while.

In fact I did ask on a date someone I met at a party last weekend. She’s busy this weekend. Shoot! Oh well. I did get complimented on my email, so progress there, at least.

Reading Buffy comic books today I realized that my style of dialogue has been indelibly marked by Joss Whedon’s writing. Spooky.

But JB, oh my God, is your trip over now or something? Nope. I still have money (my corporate masters are finally disbursing my last cheque), and I still want to see my family in Los Angeles, and San Diego apparently is really nice. So assuming the new bike works out, I’ll be heading out in a little over a week or so, with about half the baggage as before.

I’ll keep having experiences and posting about them, even if I’m staying put physically.