a caltrain vignette

Harold, as I like to call him yells "there's two bike cars on the train to a group of riders who all want to start their weekend." I am sitting across from Phil who has got his ray-bans in his collared shirt pocket, a beer in his right hand, playing The SIMS with his left.

Dianne with the uneven pixie cut is bitching to her sister about Tracy and Johanna's PDA in the apartment. We've reached Menlo Park and a family of four is running with backpacks full of Giants gear. Harold has re-filled his little pink nalgene with ice cold water. I bet it feels slippery when it mixes with the sweat. "TICKETS PLEASE."

Johnny on the spot with the boxer glove, arm-band tats and board shorts looks up at me, interested in the blonde. He disregards Harold's announcement about sharing seats and leaves his bad on the one beside him.

Everybody excuse me: Joe with the paper-bagged bottle is coming through. Harold can't stop checking tickets today. He has seen my September pass three times. We're moving faster than the cars on El Camino. Joe's stuff is blocking an escape route, I wonder if Harold will notice.

Jody walks upstairs chewing gum wearing an I :I New York shirt on, how very Silicon Valley of her. I text Sami to see if he is on the train.

Flip top. New TXT MSG TO: add PQRS, scroll down, choose Samuel, OK: are u on the train?

Five seconds later... REPLY: Yes. Second car from front.

ME: shut up r u serious, me too, i'm upstairs.

Shit, I hope he doesn't find me here. This is creepy. I can't see behind me.

My fears realized:
Samuel: No, you shut up, I'm in the back half.

My stomach hurts, I think I am starving.

So, where's the hot dog stand?

made in the USA

I wore leg warmers today. I caught several people staring at them in wonder. It made me wonder: have these people never seen a pair of leg warmers before?

Were they quietly judging me or quietly envious of the warmth of my calves?

Watched the Oscars tonight. No acceptance speeches of note. Abby and I flooded our netflix queue with the Classics. I can't believe I still haven't seen Brokeback Mountain or Taxi Driver. I should be ashamed. Sorry Heath.

Cleaned the apartment. Put the boots away. She lit a candle three times. Picked up a picture. Read an old letter. Ran it off. Listened to the voices of my little ones at home on a saved vmail.

Looking at a cherry pie sticker attached to my sweater. Thinking I may have arthritis at the age of 22.

Does this need to be coherent, or whole?

Not sure why I own movies. I rarely watch them twice.

That's the recycling again.

Rediscovered my black and purple stripped sweater. I would say it has 7/8th length sleeves. Gem of thriftown with gold buttons. Made in the USA.

local on the eights

I'm staring out of the window at my San Franciscan flat just aching from a evening of dancing. I can't wait to get under the sheets. I wish I had taken them to wash n' fold (my new obsession) this weekend. The service provided by the lovely people at the French cleaners across the street couldn't be more magical.

My clothes come back smelling like bouncy perfume and I can't stop thinking about how good I smell all day long at the office. The folding job is immaculate too, completely worth the $18...

Yes, I realize that going to the laundromat (granted, the name of the laundromat is pretty killer - Wash This!) is more economical, but can I feasibly argue that the advantages to having actually clean and yummy smelling clothes far out weigh the advantages to having eight more bucks in pocket?

What can you buy with $8 in San Francisco anyways?

.A burrito from Ricos (Chile Verde) (YUM)
.At least 4 pairs of earrings from Thirftown
.8/9ths of a drink from Bourbon & Branch
.Muni fare for five days
.Eight mornings of coffee (from the cool guy working the magazine stand) at the Caltrain station


Maybe I should do this exercise with all of the major purchases I make on a monthy/daily/hourly(it seems) basis.

Hmmm... All of the sudden the evidence for having eight extra bones is strikingly convincing.