8.15.2005

It's my father's birthday today. He's fifty-eight. It's weird when your dad starts reaching ages your grandparents were when you were young. Anyhow, I'm listening to my Ipod (random) and "Electioneering" is about to end. Update to come on the next song.

I'm writing this in an internet cafe that is usually empty. I have avoided coming here ("It Must Have Been the Roses" just came on) seeing as I figure it will be out of business soon. My logic being, if I never patronize the place, I have no guilt if I choose a different establishment to check my internet. I'm also getting tired of spending about as much money on coffee in two days as I would on a big can of Foldger's.

This weekend, I talked to Andrew H., who seems to be having a good time, and hung out with Jayson and Jennifer B., in Santy B. I also helped Alan G. move to Passy D.

I fear I may have some type of flu on the horizon. Maybe if I drink enough coffee and watch enough movies I can push it into remission. On Wednesday I get round two of dental surgery. Round one blew, so I'm not expecting much for round two. Nothing cavity related I must note. I am meticulous with my teeth. They're capping a tooth that came out of my mouth in a whirlwind of a head over the handle bars ("Victory Train" Hoagy C.) fall in my youth. I was pretending that the Russians were coming after me as I peddled hard down the street. Jumping a curb, in an effort to throw the Reds off my tail, my Jansport strap ("Every Little Thing" B. tls) wedged itself between a spoke and fate, sending me on a date with the concrete (code word: DOOM).

out.

("California Boy")