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

//tour photos
//the daily photos

(!)ad sandwich chronicles
(!)road noms
(!)listen missy
(!)daily irkutsk

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:: 1.12.2002 ::

(listening to: The Trembling Blue Stars: Alive To Every Smile)

Lil' Lawman

Oh Lord...: We were stuck in Lodi for awhile today, trying to find the freeway, then trying to find an ATM, and *then* trying to find a bathroom. We finally made it out and ventured up into the foothills a bit, looked at old books and postcards and had a fried lunch in Jackson, got a bit scared by the fog and headed up to Placerville on our way to our end destination: Folsom. You know, home of the Folsom Prison from the Johnny Cash song. But you know what? Folsom, blows. All yuppie shops and worthless crap, so we just drove through it a bit and took off, making sure to drive around in their huge empty parking lot in a big circle for a couple minutes. It got me good and dizzy and ready to hit the interstate home.

While in Lodi, we went to a big truckstop (it felt just like being on tour again) and I picked up this "Lil' Lawman" sheriff badge. That's right: I'm the new law in town. Apparently, I'm a "California Sheriff," so watch your back.

(9:37 PM) :: (link)

:: 1.11.2002 ::

(listening to: Four Tet: Pause)

So, plans are to get out of town for a bit tomorrow, see some sights, listen to some record, and eat an ice-cream sandwich at a gas station. I seriously need to take some new photos.

Speaking of, youlookgoodinblack's favorite photos of 2001 page is quite good, pictures from up and down (mostly up) the East Coast. Oh, and in case you haven't noticed, the daily photo is in full effect. I started it during the top-ten run and didn't want to interrupt the records in order to mention it. Some photos are better than others, but they're all either nice too look at, or a glimpse of something I found interesting that day.

(7:47 AM) :: (link)

:: 1.10.2002 ::

(listening to: Mark Eitzel: Songs Of Love (live))

Oatmeal and Eitzel, a good recipe for a calming morning. I woke up today and hopped out of bed, I wasn't even tempted to hit the snooze button even though I didn't go to bed until late. I even made my own coffee before we took off for work, something I haven't found the time to do in months. I've got the travel itch again, so I'm thinking about taking off for the weekend. I kind of want to go to the mountains, but I'm still frightened by our Idaho experience, I still don't trust the weather to cooporate with my feeble car.

I wasted a lot of time last night with the Typographic Signage Project from Chicago. [thanks Bellmas] I wish someone would give me a grant to do this in Oakland and San Francisco. Beautiful.

(11:37 AM) :: (link)

:: 1.09.2002 ::

(listening to: M. Ward: End Of Amnesia)

Today's big decision: nap in the delivery truck or a find a place to waste time? I've chosen the latter. Today's adventures have been anything but, although the sun is out for the first time in weeks, and my tummy is full of fabulous tamale action. The coolest thing I've seen all day was three llamas sitting high on a hill, apparently sunning themselves in the grass. Yawn yawn yawn.

(2:09 PM) :: (link)

:: 1.08.2002 ::

(listening to: Ted Leo & The Pharmacists: The Tyranny Of Distance)

Help. I can't stop listening to Ted Leo. Join me in addiction by listening to Under The Hedge and my personal favorite, Squeaky Fingers.

(11:22 AM) :: (link)

(listening to: Cave-In: Jupiter)

I don't know what it is with my dreaming-head lately, but last night I dreamt I was actually Bruce Springsteen filming a video sometime around 1980. I was *the* man in my dream, and we had this huge street dancing scene on Market Street in San Francisco, and all the girls wanted to get a piece of my action. Even my brother thought I was cool. I remember running up to a wall and doing one of those backflips off of it. Damn, that rocked my world.

(9:47 AM) :: (link)

:: 1.07.2002 ::

(listening to: Mercury Rev: Deserter’s Songs)

I had a dream last night that Bunny (my cat), my roomate Mr. Ball, Miss Rodeo America, myself, and Bill Callahan from Smog were driving around Oakland in my beat up van. Bill didn’t like that there was only a dent on one side, so he got out and kicked the shit out of the other side so that the dents would match. He then proceeded to drink a bottle of Jack Daniels and started insisting he drive. We drove around for a bit, Oakland was greener in my dream than it is in real life, and I commented on how the parks and the sparkling blue river (again, absent in real life) going through the middle reminded me of Austin, Texas. Mr. Callahan knew of a party somewhere, so we found it and paid our dollar and got a small paper cup full of cold french fries, and another cup containing a strawberry jello shot. It was a hip-hop party that was taking place in the gym of the church where I took Miss Rodeo America to vote last year, and everyone was having a blast. We all danced and sang and drank bourbon from a milk jug. Life felt good.

Of course, I woke up and immediately had to get ready for work. I missed Bill and my van, and the green parks of my imaginary Oakland. But sitting here at work listening to Mercury Rev is giving me a similar escape, and an equal amount of optimism. It all works out, doesn’t it?

(10:02 AM) :: (link)

:: 1.06.2002 ::

(listening to: Snow Patrol: When It's All Over We Still Have To Clear Up)

Took a drive today listening to some Cracker, The Beatles, and The Court & Spark through Oakland, then back up north to a little town called Port Costa. There's nothing much there, except an old building that they used to store grain in, but the town is right on the Carquinez Strait that opens into San Francisco Bay. A pretty view, although the locals wandering around eyed us suspiciously. We went into this old west looking bar to try and get a beer, but the bartender completely ignored us, finally walking out of the room into the kitchen, leaving us standing next to the "Please Wait To Be Seated" sign patiently. Cleared out of there and ran some errands, now at home with a Rolling Rock and new CDs stacked up next to the computer. I've been going crazy with recommendations lately, thanks to some wonderful websites with good taste in music.

MP3 of the week: The most honest song Bill Callahan has ever written, and that's saying a lot.

(4:06 PM) :: (link)