//oakland, calif.
//age 33
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//the daily photos

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Blogger: The One-Man-Company

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:: 6.19.2002 ::

(listening to: The Sea & Cake: Oui)

:: today in human form ::

National Road Construction Day or Why The Fuck Is There So Much Traffic?: Today has been one of thoes days. Nothing bad happened, just everything seemed odd. I finally snapped out of it, when, laying on the couch watching TV, I asked why Mike Piazza was wearing a Dodgers hat during his photo shoot as one of the sexiest sports figures on Entertainment Tonight. Why the hell was I watching E.T. when I had Native American stew pots to clean?

There was a large amount of traffic today, unusual for my usual delivery run on the way up to Sonoma County. The backup for the bridge itself set me back a good half an hour, and there was a blonde lady in a black dress with black sunglasses handing out flyers to stopped traffic...ON THE SIDE OF THE FREEWAY. A highway patroman came by and chased her down an embankment after that, but first I noticed that he took his gloves off and put them in a sidepouch on his bike. I wonder what the flyers were for.

Later, I turned a corner on the highway to find all the cars stopped for no apparent reason, so I had to turn around and get to my destination another way. Throughout the day I think I saw a dozen or so of those flagmen, directing me into the other lane of traffic while they trimmed trees, paved roads, swept the streets, or were did nothing at all. The odd high number of cars on the road made me wonder if I were accidentally driving on a Saturday instead, since that's when the city folk flock to the wine country.

Up in the mountains about six miles from the nearest town, I turned into my deliver recipient's driveway and was confronted by a large, unfriendly Benji looking dog who would not, under any circumstances, allow me to traverse the dirt driveway to the house I needed to get to. He barked a lot and lunged at my window, so I turned the car around and drove down the road a ways to figure out my plan of action. I ended up throwing the package somewhere towards the house, hoping it would be found in an unbroken state.

Off to fulfill my Amelie watching duties at the bar/theatre. Trust me when I say that it's been one of those math-rock days.

(8:34 PM) :: (link)

:: 6.18.2002 ::

(listening to: Boards Of Canada: Geogaddi)

Mike & Alyson
Muir Beach, California

(10:11 AM) :: (link)

:: 6.16.2002 ::

(listening to: The Mountain Goats: Ghana)

Trader Joe's was good to us this afternoon. We returned with a bounty of strange Czech beer and multiple $2.99 bottles of wine. When we got home I opened the windows and turned the baseball game on the radio and began the chore of cleaning out (and scrubbing) the freezer. You wouldn't believe me if I told you how many bags of frozen okra and broccoli were in there, but lets just say I'd need a wok the size of a spa to stir-fry all the contents.

On top of our recently departed lizard's cage we place a white shirt box so that Bunny, the cat who is baaaaaaaaaaaaaad, would not jump on top of the cage and stare menacingly down at Bruce while sharpening his claws and licking his chops. When Bruce died, I put the box on the floor and Bunny instantly sat on it, knowning that something was just a bit *different*. The box is still there, and it's become Bunny's favorite place to sleep, although I sometimes wonder as to the level of comfort in his chosen sleeping position.

(2:34 PM) :: (link)

(listening to: Nirvana: In Utero)

The Byrd claps for the wrong team.

Mr. Sinus Infection is kicking my ass. I swear, I haven't heard anything correctly or felt, balanced, in a few days now. I've ceased being a thinking human being and have become a snot factory. My daily routine now includes my cocktail of two Tylenol sinus pills and an Aleve, twice a day.

Although under the weather, we got a posse together yesterday and went over to see Oakland play baseball against the San Francisco Giants. There's really no rivalry, and the best any Giants fans could muster as we walked to the park in our yellow shirts was a guy who rolled down his window and kinda meekly said "Oakland. Boo." Wow guy, you freaked me out there for a second. Our seats were way, way, way out in the center field bleachers where we couldn't see the scoreboard at all, so half the time we were just wondering who was batting. It was fun times though, even thoug Oakland lost. As we walked back to the subway after the game we saw a girl showing off her big glossy fake breasts busting out of a barely concealing top. It was horrendous and funny at the same time as she stood there like a toad while her equally glossy boyfriend attempted to hail a cab. It's a baseball game, not a slinky nightclub.

After that all I remember is the pressure in my head, and being really hungry, and just sort of wandering through life like a zombie. Nothing on the menu today except a trip to Trader Joe's and another dose of sinus medicine.

Hey Dad. Happy Father's Day.

(12:04 PM) :: (link)