In conversation.

Among my many annoying habits, I talk to Woody the dog throughout the day.

When feeling guilty about leaving for work, I pose philosophical questions, “What does it all mean, buddy? Am I just another rat in the race?”

Or when getting ready for a walk, I try to position a quick trip around the block where the expectation is a prompt poop and pee as some kind of adventure, “Do you want to go outside with me and explore the world?”

And we spend a lot of time debating the pros and cons of electronic devices, “Silly me and this cell phone—all this texting back and forth for what? For what?”

Treats are cookies. A bowl full of kibble is breakfast (or dinner). And our life together is just like any human relationship.

Right now, for example. He’s had his breakfast,  I’ll be leaving shortly for my day among the rats, he definitely wants to explore the world and I’m sitting here wasting time on an electronic device. He has needs and I’m not fulfilling them.

Off we go.

Mr. Woods.jpg

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Expanding the enterprise.

Need even more hipster bullshit? When I’m not typing up my random thoughts, I also like to draw random things. Particularly buildings. Which led to my new fake Bay Area real estate sketch blog Houses I Can’t Afford. Go now. Tell your friends. I’m talking to you mom and Aunt Linda…you’re my most loyal followers.

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Everything in the wrong place.

Considering the last year of my life, it occurred to me that I really like rearranging things. And fortunately furniture and lamps don’t fight back.

The chair never says, “I’m not comfortable with this.”

The strange painting from a Missouri flea market doesn’t mind which nail its hanging from.

The small folding table could serve as a nightstand, but would be equally happy folded up nicely in the closet with all the jackets that rarely come off their hangers.

Best of all, once everything has been reassigned it kinda feels like new stuff. And the dingy place you call home becomes a different version of itself. A place a little less predictable than the last. Unfamiliar and exciting, but without any address update paperwork from the postal service or utility company phone calls.

Rearranged without making a scene. Redesigned without negotiation.

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Nice Shot: Fifteenth NorCal Installment

'34 Ford Truck'57 Chevy'54 Ford

I can’t fully explain why other people’s junk makes me wish I had more than twenty bucks in my checking account, but the shots above should help you fill in the blanks. A big thank you to all the Craigslisters with spare parts and spare time to post. Without you, the Nice Shot series would wither away and I’d have to spend my time doing something productive—like cleaning house or reading poetry.

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This or that.

Outside.JPG

Inside.JPGI woke in Yosemite on Sunday and headed into the snarled mess of downtown San Francisco first thing Monday. Opposite in so many ways (minus all the rich people running around), I found one view that reminded me a lot of another.

Happy Friday, friends and random readers. Whether you’re among massive walls of stone or reflective sheets of glass, please make sure to enjoy yourself.

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Layers.

There was a pretty island. We put a prison on it.

There were wide open spaces. We built factories.

We had feet. We came up with cars.

We had food. We brought in a focus group and introduced Hamburger Helper.

We had ideas so we invented TV and that’s what led us here.

To screens. To staring. To stale air and filthy floors.

This is how we land. And this is how we live. Layer upon layer. From here to eternity—at least until we return to the ravaged earth just below the filthy floors that are just below our feet.

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