Division Of Ground.

You would think that without the benefit of Los Angeles public transportation and semi-organized prostitution I would run out of stories to tell. Not the case. The local merchants on 15th Avenue have a knack for keeping me on my toes.

This morning was ss lovely I just had to get out and run errands. I went to pick up my jeans from the tailor. I had asked them to take up the cuff 2 inches, but to keep the original cuff. Needless to say they did not keep the original cuff, and they gave me my jeans as stiff as a board. They starched my jeans. Why would they do this? When I handed her a twenty she asked me if I had six cents change. I was like bitch, it's taking all the happy power I can muster to not rip your effing lips off.

Then it was off to Victrola for some coffee beans and a tall drip. The lady at the counter who had no kind of voice for customer service did manage to talk me into buying something I never wanted. That's talent.

Yesterday Anonymous D took me to a Farmer's Market. Pony could tell D stories about how I really only tolerate the idea of egalitarianism, and even at that I fail half the time. What I'm getting at is that I don't talk to people. I certainly don't talk to people that make a living smearing goat=shit over turnips.

Speaking of turnips. Derek has made a new entry in his journal where he discusses this long travel stretch that I was fortunate enough to be a part of. Click here to read about it. He was also good enough to answer some of his fan mail. Click here to read.

And since we're on the subject, who does this little girl the she is? David Wright dove into the stands to catch a fly-ball and made such a fuss over the whole incident. Please. I'm sorry David. You're cute, but it's been done. Click here to watch the shameless display.