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Window display in the Lake Merritt area of Oakland.

March 28th, 2003

A Good Sign
Late Friday afternoon, by gum, the sun shining, the air a warm as blood 73 degrees. This is good. This is a good way to start a weekend.

So what's happening today that didn't happen yesterday or the day before? You want to make comments on the war? No? Well, how's your love life? Or do we hear about the two new lamps at the other end of your living room? What exciting things do you have planned for the evening, bucko? Or do we hear how you've yet to buy a car?

Who's side are you on?

Then again, I suppose those are reasonable questions, neither of which I care to think about - the air being warm as blood, you understand - or answer. The end of month gathering of cyclists is scheduled for six this afternoon in San Francisco, but I've no thought of attending. Under the bay. On BART. But maybe take a stroll around San Francisco tomorrow. The energy's good. Sleep in an extra hour and then poke around Market. Go by Gasser's and examine the new equipment. Buy something. How long's it been since I've done that?

You're just rattling on. You have no idea what you'll do tomorrow.

True, true, but I'll come up with something. I got a call from the Honda salesman this afternoon saying he had a fully loaded four wheel drive model of the kind I was interested in if I wanted to take it for a spin. I could do that. Try it out. Then again I haven't been to Napa in a while. Others may be thinking the same thing, of course, what with this warm as blood air and nothing happening in the city worth thinking or drinking. Inebriated traffic. Maybe I could take in some inebriated traffic.

You've managed to talk about not buying the car. When do you mention lamps? And "inebriated traffic" isn't going to win you the Pulitzer.

I talked with a friend at work today whom I haven't seen in some time (he's gotten the package and will leave the company in April) who thought I'd gained weight. Ouch. I have. I lost five pounds with the operation, but I gained twelve back. I've lost two of the twelve, but still have five to lose to be where I started and another five cause that's where I was headed when the prostate failed. I'm doing it, the walking's the trick, but it's going to take time. Mumble. I do seem to be getting back to the pedestrian crap I wallowed in prior to losing the prostate, though, so I guess that's a good sign.

The photograph was taken through a casket company's display window in the Lake Merritt area near the Grand Lake Theater in Oakland. Yes, that is a painted coffin, and yes, I'm somewhat surprised myself.