I VOTED FOR KODOS

What Venezuelans may remember most about last month’s presidential campaign is the moment right at the start, when Nicolás Maduro Moros, the late Hugo Chávez’s chosen successor, told a television audience that the supreme comandante had come back to him in the shape of a little bird and, chirping, urged him on to victory. There was also the time he promised that an ancient Indian curse would fall on those who voted for the opposition candidate, Henrique Capriles Radonski, and the rallies at which Maduro, seeking to give substance to the slogan “Chávez lives!” produced a hapless little man, or boy, who was indeed the spitting image of the departed comandante. There was the sight of the hulking and excruciatingly self-conscious Maduro—by some accounts a sober and thoughtful man in private life—trying to channel the spirit of the man he now calls “father” by singing, dancing, and even rapping in front of equally embarrassed crowds.

We can have many pasts, just as we can have several identities at the same time, or be in two places in our mind without actually being in either. For every life we live, there are at least eight others we’ve gotten close to but may never know. Maybe there is no true life or false life, no remembered or imagined itinerary, no projected or revisited moments, no worthy or wasted days, just as there is no such thing as mask or face, truth or lie, right or wrong answers. Can something be and not be at the same time?

There is no answer. The only possible out is the one my mother taught me: that there is a pleasure, something so unspeakably thrilling, in uncovering the other version of our life, that, given a few days, a few weeks, a few years, this version will be the only one worth writing and, therefore, worth remembering.

We have 1 bedroom starting April 10th in a 4-bedroom apartment to share with two ladies and a gentleman in their late 20s and 30s. Our fourth roommate is going on a long trip to the other side of the globe for a few months and we’re hoping to find a friendly, laid-back gal or lad to take her place. The room is a reasonable size, has a closet with a dresser, gets tons of light and has a stellar view of twin peaks. It comes with a full size bed, desk, and resident sewing machine, typewriter, and record player. Also included is a beach-cruiser bicycle (with helmet!) for you to ride around the city. The house is really nice - 2 big living rooms with a bay window bench seat, 2 bathrooms, wood floors, all sky-lighted, marbley open kitchen, green backyard, washer and dryer downstairs. The neighborhood feels neighborhoody with lots of families, but we’re also just a hop from 24th street full of bars, coffee shops and cheap mission produce.

Us: We’re into sharing, caring, respecting each others’ needs, and communicating openly.

Lady 1 - Singer song-writer with a slice of acting. Has secret penchant for Blink-182 covers. Wonders about: the difference between gut, heart, and mind; how to be vegan; the ways we communicate. Strives to do it: from the pit of her stomach; often with tofu. Built for: the sea.

Gent - Self-made man. Bikes: around. Loves: a good wager; getting away with it; the promise of Indian buffet. Firmly believes: solidarity is a 10-letter word. Laments: the future; the present; the internet; the passing of our collective youth. In possession of: transportation equipment for land, sea, and sky; plans for the apocalypse.

Lady 2 - Wildlife/plant ecologist. Mostly found: traipsing about the wetlands of the bay area, muddy and driving a red toyota pickup, grinning in the kitchen. Always knows: that weird board game, this amazing hike you could go on. Loves: plants, animals, npr, nerdistry of all sorts. Relentlessly cheery and kind.

Rent is $850/mo all included. Dates are ideally April 10th - June 15th, but we are flexible.
Write us a little bit about yourself and we’ll get back to you with the deets! Thanks!!

In the last few days, Henderson insulted the National Invitation Tournament (“I know I wouldn’t wanna be playin in the NIT,” he wrote during Kentucky’s first-round N.I.T. loss) and praised the charismatic Wisconsin forward Mike Bruesewitz, the one with the red, Art Garfunkel-style Afro. “That dude got some serious swag!!!” Henderson said on Twitter, meaning swagger, or moxie.

Vitamins and Roughage
BY KENNETH REXROTH
Strong ankled, sun burned, almost naked,
The daughters of California
Educate reluctant humanists;
Drive into their skulls with tennis balls
The unhappy realization
That nature is still stronger than man.
The special Hellenic privilege
Of the special intellect seeps out
At last in this irrigated soil.
Sweat of athletes and juice of lovers
Are stronger than Socrates’ hemlock;
And the games of scrupulous Euclid
Vanish in the gymnopaedia.

Burglar alarms and pit bulls to protect your pot stash? Sure. But an alligator?

That’s what Alameda County sheriff’s deputies encountered about 1:30 p.m. Wednesday when they conducted a “probation compliance” check of a home in Castro Valley.

While at a home on the 19000 block of Mount Jasper Drive, they found 34 pounds of processed dried marijuana and a live, 5-foot alligator in a Plexiglas tank in the bedroom. The reptile, named “Mr. Teeth,” acted as a deterrent against marijuana thieves, said sheriff’s Sgt. J.D. Nelson.

Mr. Teeth’s owner, Assif Mayr, 32, got the alligator in 1996 “to commemorate the death of rapper Tupac Shakur,” Nelson said.

Mayar was arrested on suspicion of possessing marijuana for sale and was taken to Santa Rita Jail in Dublin, where he is being held in lieu of $160,000 bail. Mr. Teeth was taken to the Oakland Zoo.