it was about 70 degrees and i was not dressed in white.

There were some people standing outside in their driveway having a BBQ and I parked a few feet away. I averted my eyes because of the way the man was standing there with a hose, pointed out toward the street.

"Hey."

I looked over. "yeah."

He said, "Come over here."

and I said, "I do not know if that's a good idea."

and the other party people there with him said, "Yeah, cross the street!"

so I was like, "ok."

I went over and said, "Hello."

and he said "Let me spray you with this hose here."

and I said "No. I have groceries and I will also get wet."

and he whined, "C'mon. it's hot as shit."

the sun was indeed out in force.

and his friends said, "C'mon!"

and one held up a boogieboard with the ocean on it and said,

"You can pretend it is the spray of the waves."

So I said, "ok." and a girl took my groceries

and then the man sprayed me with cold water mist while his friends cheered.

Then I took my groceries, thanked them, and went to the house to make fresh basil pizza.

pretty good shirt.

i snuck down to ameoba music on my break and saw this dude working there wearing a shirt that said:

ELIOT SMITH'S

HOLIDAY BASKETBALL CAMP

with a tiger in the middle.

with his paw on a basketball.

with a santa hat on.

So I was all, "What is your shirt. Where did it come from. Why is it."

and he said, "Got it at a thrift store down the street."

Then I bought a terrible album by some local asshole named Ty Segall for fourteen fifty six. Yeah, no. Good job, Ty. Way to sing through a filter so distorted your pathetic, one minute and thirty second masterbations almost sound like passable songs when played through the din and clatter of a coffee shop.

One who did not know any better would probably invest fourteen fifty six in your album, hardly expecting to experience one of the most truly insipid, played-out, echo-fuck, power chord, mumbledrumcrumblecore bullshit albums ever excreted.

If I ever see you in public I am going to ask you for money.

true stories from across the divide.

Today I ignored a crackhead who had an important message.

It was so important that he rasped, "miss!" multiple times even though his voice was surely almost spent. He tapped on my window after I'd run to the car, locked the door, and turned to scream, "I DO NOT KNOW YOU! GET AWAY FROM MY CAR! I DO NOT KNOW YOU!" through the glass.

He held up two fingers- not a peace sign. he had two teeth. he tapped again. two fingers. I drove away as his friend waved traffic into my now open spot.

I know I missed something.

meanwhile:

my father is in the locker room at the gym and a large man approaches him, trying to include him in some joke about lawyers.

the man says, "didn't mean to offend you, buddy. If you're a law--"

and my dad yells, "FUCK that SHIT." and proceeds to towel his head dry.

and the man has not talked to him since.

what the world needs now

is more simple people. 

not long now

When Good Things Happen to Bad People

Specifically, people who have treated you poorly.

These are the times when God might as well be whispering (as you learn of their happiness),

"Crawl back into your mother's womb."

Certainly, no one deserves anything.

And fairness was not promised by anyone.

(Justice is a pretend idea.)

But to know that somewhere that person is happy

while you are still caught in their terrible wake

is more than enough reason to face the fact that

The Universe is Indifferent,

and we are all just stuck here

shitting all over each other

and the last roll of toilet paper is out.

Dandy.