- Yesterday morning, while waiting for the bus in the "cold for the
Bay Area" 37-degree-weather, a young, well endowed woman ran past in a
white halter top (no bra), white hot pants and white tennis shoes. She
jogged past us to the corner of Telegraph and MacArthur, where she turned
around and headed back up the street. When we passed her later on the
bus, every man on that bus turned and watched her jogging. I have no idea
what the hell she was doing wearing next to nothing, bouncing up and down
a main road like that. It irritated me beyond reason; the story I've made
up is that the prostitutes in the neighborhood need to drum up some
business, but then why so early in the morning?
- A man gets on the bus and sits directly across from me in the back
(where the seats face in towards each other). I notice his leather pants
because I've been wanting a pair of leather pants myself. Then I notice
his fly is undone. Through an averted glance I see him cup himself,
letting his hand move with the motion of the bus. I change seats.
- My badly-needed massage last night was given by a woman in her 60's,
with long gray hair, making me reconsider the idea that I'm going to grow
ridiculously long hair when I'm older. The short (30 min) massage starts
with a lecture/demonstration of pressure points I can use to relieve
stress during the day. Ok, but I'm not here for that, I need a
massage! It was cold in the room. I was trying to be chill about her
shitty massage, but then she tried to tell me to wear a magnetic bracelet
to help my arms. Uh, yeah. right.
- A guy on a unicycle rides down a busy street near Berkeley campus. He
rides erratically, as if he is, at any moment, going to spill dramatically
down onto the pavement. People scatter as he approaches. He grins
maniacally. I'm not sure if this is meant as street performance or as a
Statement.
- A woman who is missing most of her front teeth approaches me at the
counter at Subway and watches as I pay for my sandwich. As I leave she
asks me for the exact amount of the change I just received. I feel
invaded, manipulated and pissed off. (I was also in a terrible
mood.) I tell her, "Sorry." I feel bad and guilty and pissed as hell
about it for days. I should've bought her a damn sandwich.
PS: See the end of yesterday's entry for that quick update about my
shitty weekend. Or don't, if you don't care to. I wish I didn't have to
live it. Sigh.
| Exercise log:
Lifted weights: shoulders and calves. 15 minute abs class. 15 minutes on
a fitness machine that works both legs and arms (sorta like skiing) that
kept nagging me about my heart rate being 2 beats above my "targe" heart
rate; annoying.
Writing log:
I'm currently
reading:
Unlocking the Air and other stories by Ursula
K. LeGuinStarlight 2
anthology edited by Patrick Nielsen Hayden
My new PO Box is: Heather Shaw
P.O. Box
13222
Berkeley, CA 94712-4222
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