Written last night on 2.5 post-its (normal-sized, yellow). First 2 sentences written at Slabtown, NW Portland, the rest written on the MAX on the way home. If you read until the end, it's self-explanatory. All [sic], and barely legible.
It's halftime & the score is 1-1. We'd better fucking score in the 2nd.
The MAX is so lively tonight - full of people telling lies - it's almost cute. I'm totally getting a kick out of all the different people who ended up here - Almost a full train, in fact. Black guys from NYC, local girls, transit authorities - on Tues I sat next to a Homeland Security guy on the way downtown. I've never seen on persay, though I'm always on the red train from the airport.
The druggies got off @ Skidmore. I'm enjoying the convo. of the NYC black kids & the local black kids (early 20s). My birthday starts in less than 2 hours. Literally, I was born just after midnight. This is the first time I've celebrated my birthday in the same time zone as the one I was born in - since 1994? Kind of weird thinking about it that way. I played w/ an iPhone @ the Apple Store today. I can't type in there. I'm tired & slightly maybe a tiny bit drunk (?)
White boys trying to sound cool speaking urban & spanish. Sad. Also in Californian. I am guilty of the same, esp tonight. Fuckin Warren G Regulators.
Anyhow, 2-2. Disappointed.
So yay, happy birthday to me, I guess. How depressing.
