BARTdropping
"I really like your dad's car. I really like it when he talks to it.
That makes him seem totally insane."
portable three ring binder, a three ring circus on the road. history and photos and daydreaming. journaling, maybe. trip reports, book reports, food reports, life reports, kid reports, day- or night-in-the-life-of reports.
"I really like your dad's car. I really like it when he talks to it.
That makes him seem totally insane."

Sun dress, sun hat, water sandals, smock dress, two pairs of pants, and
a turtleneck. All at once.

What the SF Chinatown Y lacks in plumbing, it more than makes up for with frank talk about anatomy.



I write from the lobby of a large, charming, funky and nice lodge in West Lebanon, NH. Three hours on the red eye for my past day's sleep has me so far not too much worse for wear. Calls home tell me K hasn't gone off the deep end flying solo with the children - there's still time.
Tonight's lovely welcome dinner in Woodstock (just back over into Vermont) was a perfect mix of catching up with old friends and getting to know new family. Good wine and absolutely great food. (Vermont is a bit like Petaluma and Sonoma in that it seems to have the same enlightened rural vibe as well as a foodie streak. Artisanal foods abound.)
It is POURING outside.



Waiting with my luggage for a train into the city. After work, I'll make a couple connections: flying out of San Jose tonight with Mundeep, then meeting up Saji and Nina at JFK in the morning, from where we'll all fly to Vermont.
It's strange and cool to look back on all the years I've known Shyam and to get to see him in his new habitat. The Jenny Thing certainly is in diaspora now with none living closer than 90 miles of another. (That's me and Ehren; we see each other every month or so.) Folsom, San Diego, New Hampshire with Missouri on deck... I'm the last Bay Arean standing, for now anyway.
Still, my fondness for the boys is surely deeper than our salad days, which, in addition to notable camaraderie, were filled with at least one giant ego, miniature senses of self, and much artistic angst farming. The good parts now stand in well-lighted silhouette. And so, something worthwhile is transformed into something priceless and lifechanging.
Plus, if we were still in close quarters, surely we'd have killed one another by now. So, you know, there's that.
My first note on this thing. As a... sheeyit, 9 year (!!!) user of Palm Graffitti, I'm not yet sure about the thumb keyboard... Well, better on ellipses! Sticky shift and alt are rad. Is it somehow less creative, less organic?
Who am I kidding. still writing what I'm thinking, and thinking the same old hooha... :)