I'll go running in a minute, trying to find my tone(  for follow up letters )

There are a lot of doors that are open to ugly but closed to stupid... and if you're both, then that's a problem, isn't it? But their is a flaw in my logic, that being that halfway to ugly is really stupid, which is actually worse than where I started. Not all effort has any intelligence associated to it. And partial intelligence is only useful to someone else, not who has to learn it themselves. Helping someone to fail is not exactly a rescue mission. And if you accept it, then you probably didn't really need help out after all. But these things can surprise you. Even when you think you know the outcome, what comes after that is more difficult to anticipate.

Wow.

I joke about the US finally losing the Cold War this year, but this....

And this woman's facial expression is beautiful.

Now I'm going to check Urban Dictionary for 'stay as long as you want'.

Thanksgiving cometh.

running... more at 3.


We're in your heart. Heart or head, people, heart or head? I want to install a mike in your machine to steal all of your code. In your headlight. I'm over it. Over your headlight? You're damaged. (Whatisthematterwithme?) I'm over it (duplicate). My heart?

When I was young, I would stay up all night, he said. But when I became a mature, responsible person, I realized that I could carry the night within me during normal hours.

I don't remember where I read that.

Ok, I think the bartender got my apt credits which I owed to my sister, though if everyone is now assuming their accepted gender roles... no, that doesn't makes sense. Bookkeepers are often women, the simple side of non-predictive... ha, you know you'd lose a slipper, didn't you. No. Ok, someone didn't get to the chai in time. No ( trouble )

You may call me Awkward. May I call you Inconvenient?

Life is full of games that ought not be played, according to the laws and guts of risk. It was the stock market during the 60's and 70's, when people were willing to pay whatever it cost.... Worth is... too smart in the perfect way. Now dying of impatience with myself.

I was ready to head home, having spent hours sitting in the chilly winter sun for community service. I was pleased to get my paperwork signed, to head back across the Bay before the air cooled more, dreading more of a chill.

Bernard called me(  as I paused )

I think i may have met a blind guy last night... or he certainly had a good stare. He played a good role in my life. That seems pretty perfect.

The degree I wish to pursue is not an addendum to the job I have- I just happened to get that perfect job. I wouldn't say I'm particularly good at it, which is disturbing.

There is always going to be someone better at what you are doing, unless you are successfully unique.

Salesforce scares me. On the levels that I have been exposed to it.

Last night was my idea of fun, except for the going to a bar and dinner part. Reality isn't that difficult to find, you don't have to chase it everywhere. I don't change course halfway unless I get lost. And I'm not a bull. There was no body behind that cape.

Do you know how to kill? he he, giggle scowl glance backward, no. What do you do under the knife? Talk to anyone and run around and fall down or regret not doing it. What do other people do under the knife? I don't like thinking about that. Actually I do, it's delicious. I am what I am, and I have no appeal as a haven, but what a delight to pretend.

I'm sure he's had many long conversations with impossible to talk to people.

I dreamed this morning that I was walking down the street, so enormously and thoroughly stoned out of my mind that I was more dancing than walking. Yoga on the street in a slow progressive movement. Which isn't terribly unlikely but I was doing it in a white neighborhood and for some reason I wasn't immediately blown off for being an asshole. This shocked me. People along the block were dancing a little bit too, though far more productively, with little paintbrushes on the fences or what not, just tiding stuff up or talking to their neighbors.

Then I walked into the house and my girl the sister was there. She was watching TV in her room, with a friend. It seemed so bizarre to me, stranger than the people dancing. Except her things were all tidy and in better condition and clear than mine. I couldn't help but notice that.

you have a pointless knife, and a broken 50's radio the size of a small table. you are on an island surrounded by natives and Russian Novels personified riding on monstrous machines. Do you stab someone for their skin, seal up the table as a raft, and absurdly attempt to set sail? Or do you sit under the table for hours, peaking at the Russian Novel, trying to fix the radio which doesn't have an outgoing signal nor ... good luck.

Nov 10
Fillmore, SF
Opening for & accompanying Imogen Heap
(call venue for times, and get there early!)

Nov 17
CAS Planetarium in Golden Gate Park, SF
TEDx SF
4pm to 8pm
(a few tickets left at http://www.tedxsf.org)

'I'm going to get you a car. Just stick with me a little longer and I'll get you a car. Maybe a Prius'. Repeat. You live your life a certain way.

Then, after 8 years, he didn't come home for 3 weeks.

When he does, he says 'Never mind. Go sell it'.

Very shortly, he's gone, leaving me with a 2 bedroom apt full of accumulated stuff. He helped with the rent for 2 months, was it? It took me 6 to be able to open his room's door, figuratively speaking.

He went and bought a house, by himself. Why am I a jerk?

Don't believe what you read on the internet. What next?

see, it was supposed to be a joke, but i decided it didnt seem very funny. Even if i do love that coat.

Only managed a mile this morning when I woke up, most of that leaning against buildings thinking 'this is for everyone, anyone can have this, and it is beautiful' to cheer myself up. Yesterday I laughed like a gull and actually kicked my own motorcycle. Figuring I was just too melancholy to stand myself, I headed out for the 5 miler.

As I set out an older black man yelled out 'how many?' and I held up my hand. 'Stick with me and you'll do 15, without stopping!' he yelled back. When I got near a small group in the serious blocks, I started to slow down. One of the older guys held up his hand and I nodded and kept going. Not to say I didn't walk on the way home.

Around the corner there was a small mob of women and children. A lot of people to get through. 'Hey rat, they don't open till 12' one of the well painted ladies said. I smiled and peaked around them at the motorcycles lining the curb, the gates still locked, and smiled again, swinging one arm as - yes - 'turn right around and go back! that's a good one'. Zoom zoom. Feelin a little better.

I decided that the only reason almonds are supposedly good for you is that they give you energy to keep going through the day, running from the devils.

After working on a paper ( all day )

I pulled off the thruway into Emeryville, which I found to be a pleasant experience. I enjoyed the underpass, which had an articulate and comprehensive mural and a statue of some kind. Pretty cool. Emeryville has long been a comfort zone after SF for me, as that's where the Amtrak station is. Disregarding the complicated torque qualities between SF and PDX, the sheer pleasure of taking Amtrak after a serious of bouts with the Embarcadero Greyhound... overnight... can only be measured in gallons.

The Bay Bridge was closed. Unnerving, sure, that's easy to say if you live on the same side of the Bay as almost everyone you bloody know.