the other day

I was flying up the 110 from work and noticed the 10 was worse than actually continuing through the slot, so I risked it. Coming up towards the four-level, a woman with some Midwestern (does it matter?) plates merges right and then back into my lane realizing the 101 wasn't where she wanted to be. Now in front of her I see that she is suffering from traffic depression. She looks around for an escaping faster lane, fiddles with knobs, strangles the steering wheel, nails digging into the gummy rubber underside.

What she doesn't get is traffic is pretty darn good today.

My Zen of commuting requires clarity of mind, sunglasses, air conditioning, and a fresh from the burner CD as I'm iPodisabled.©™ Turn on, Zone out.


Felt overdressed walking dogs in Atwater Village, but dogs do need to be walked before us humans eat dinner. I would love to live here, but would driving through downtown to the south bay take less than my current hour commute?

Sitting at Burger King on San Fernando Blvd eating the free whopper I won and talking about crushes and who is cute with an ex-girlfriend. I tell all, sort of.


Los Feliz to Western to Sunset to Orange where there was no parking due to the BET Awards. Late as usual, but with easy five buck parking at the Knitting Factory, I came in for most of Underwater City People's amazing set.

Up since 4.30 am, I started to slow down by the middle of the show, too tired to be super social. Instead I eavesdropped on conversations and observed people under the guise of having a staring problem. This amused me until a friend called me on it by blowing me a kiss which made me laugh and look away.




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