//oakland, calif.
//age 33
//permanent mp3s

//tour photos
//the daily photos

(!)ad sandwich chronicles
(!)road noms
(!)listen missy
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:: 4.06.2001 ::

(listening to: Will Oldham: Ode Music)

This cold is kicking my ass, and taking Benadryl at work is not a good idea. My mouth was so dry today that I was speaking as if my mouth had been loaded up with Lidocaine. Nobody could understand a word I was saying, it got quite embarrasing.

The hockey game last night was a tremendous amount of fun. I drank Miller Lite, don't tell anyone. The Sharks won, and I even did the little chomp-chomp motions with my arms as if I were an alligator gnawing on a bone. Good, mass-marketed entertainment.

Looks like we're heading out to dinner soon, and the home for an evening of rest so as to recuperate from the cold from hell.

(6:46 PM) :: (link)

:: 4.05.2001 ::

(listening to: The Psychedelic Furs: The Psychedelic Furs)

So I need to decide whether to spend the $25 it would cost to go see the Psychedelic Furs play at a big 'ole venue in San Francisco. It's cheaper than a baseball game around here, so I'll probably end up going. Perhaps I'll con someone into getting me a ticket.

I'm going to the hockey game tonight with my friend's company. It's bring a friend night, and I get to be the CEO's date. Huzzah! I'm pretty excited, to say the least. I hope there is enough room to jump around if the Sharks manage to score. I am not, however, looking forward to sitting in major traffic on the way to San Jose. I have a nasty cold and nothing good to listen to in the car, what fun is that?

(4:33 PM) :: (link)

:: 4.04.2001 ::

(listening to: Pele: The Nudes)

So I'm in Sonoma County, and finally found a place with cheapish internet access where I could stop in for a brief moment to write something or other every Wednesday. Although technology and the internet has advanced a great deal since I was in high school, I still don't have access in my delivery truck. If you can change this, I want to be your business partner.

Monday night I got off work a bit early to have my arm examined, it seems as if the aching cellulitis which had been pestering me since my accidental razorblade-gash has finally subsided, and I (thankfully) don't have to get anymore painful antibiotic shots in my bottom.

I hurried home, and Miss Rodeo America and I hurried off to the subway station to go see Dave Eggers, renowned 20 (or is it 30?) something writer who has quite strongly taken the quirky writing world by storm with his novel A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. Mr. Eggers has also been the subject of media mockery, critical praise, and internet obsessions. We did the "tourist slalom" down Grant street through Chinatown, stopped in at the vegetarian place for some snack-treats, and joined the already massive line around City Lights (yes, *that* City Lights). I was #96 in line, MRA was #97, and I had a maple bar and some orange juice, those things made me happy.

The first 100 people who showed up crowded into the main floor of the bookstore, and after alot of shoving, trading places, standing on tippy-toes, Mr. Eggers came out and read some letters he wrote to CEOs of big companies from the standpoint of a dog named Steven. He played some of the music from the new issue of McSweeney's Magazine, showed a sad and delightfully emo comic strip involving a frog and a banjo, and politely and patiently answered questions and signed books. I do not own his novel, but MRA got hers signed. Mr. Eggers enjoyed her haiku, which she shared with the rest of the crowd, so he gave us a ticke to ride on his bus. We didn't know where his bus would take us, but we stayed around outside after the reading to find out.

Sure enough, as 10:00 rolled around (I had some raspberry pie to satiate my hunger), a little white bus pulled up outside at the corner of Broadway and Columbus, driven by a quiet guy named Duane, and we piled in along with 30 or so other people who braved the big city wind- tunnels to see if the bus really existed. I had to stand up in the middle of the aisle while everyone chatted excitedly. The bus had created instant comraderie for all who rode it, this was a nice feeling. Twenty minutes later we pulled up outside of The Latin American Club, a local Mission district scenester dive which was a) very small and b) staffed by one really confused bartender. So, we spent the rest of the evening drinking beer that Mr. Eggers purchased for us and talking to a nice girl named Carrie, whom we'll probably never see again. Dave was very kind and made his rounds through the bar in order to chat with anyone who desired his company. What an amazing man, now I feel like I ought to read his book.

Phew. I'm glad those tenth-grade typing lessons and late night chat room sessions allow me to type quickly, I'm at twenty cents a minute here! If Mr. Eggers comes to your town, please go see him read, and if you're lucky, he'll let you ride on his bus.

(3:28 PM) :: (link)

:: 4.03.2001 ::

(listening to: Creeper Lagoon: Take Back The Universe and Give Me Yesterday)

I think I forget what the inside of my house looks like. That's how much I've been home lately. Things have been delightfully hectic. Work is busy, sucking eggs, and wearing me down. Oh yah, and if you want to move to California and live in my house, please oh please let me know. Phew. Yikes. Ouch.

(4:10 PM) :: (link)

:: 4.01.2001 ::

(listening to: For Carnation: Marshmallows EP)

So I bought a ton of records on Friday night. Sue me. It's taken me awhile to update the new arrivals section, so now I'm too tired of sitting here to post much. Well, that and the sun is in my eyes. It's been a very, very busy weekend.

(6:59 PM) :: (link)