Friday 2am sight: Illegal activity.

Biking home from a Latino gayclub where me and my one Asian-Canadian friend had gone to have a drink at a new bar and see the show, I was taking this shortcut past a warehouse and over a bridge, and as I was passing the wall outside the warehouse, there was like 12 cars lined up parked on the side of the road, some w/lights on, and almost all w/people standing next to them or sitting on their hoods.

Most were younger and Latino, though there were some older (white) folks.

I hopped off my bike since I saw a(n old grizzled redhead white) guy in a baseball cap and dirty clothes walking his bike towards me on the sidewalk, and I asked him what was up.

He was very drunk and had red skin like a drunk and had a bit of blood streaming from a cut on his upper cheek.

He said that it was dragracing, and his explanation made a lot of sense since it was a quarter mile uninterrupted by sidestreets and a relatively quiet road, as he pointed out.

“Are you okay?”, I was like, then.  “You have a little bit of blood on your face.”

“Oh,” he was like.  “I fell.”

“Gotcha,” I was like.  

Then, I was like, “Now are you walking your bike all the way home, I hope?”.

“I sure am,” he was like, “That’s why I’m walking now.”

“Okay,” I was like, “Please do that.   Take care of yourself, there’s a lot of people out tonight and you should be safe.”

Then I said bye to him and hopped on my bike and road off up the sidewalk and over the bridge.

In the background I could hear cars revving and doing short drags up the street.

Kiddie piano recitals.

The other weekend I texted my one friend who teaches modern Czech literature to see if she wanted to do something, but she was going to her young daughter’s piano recital.

At the last one, she said, a boy sang Adele’s “Skyfall” while accompanying himself on the piano.

Reflections of my one Asian-Canadian friend (2 of 2): Me.

Like a year ago, we went to the undergrad year-end exhibition opening night at the art school where I have taught and will teach, and we enjoyed wine and hors d’oeuvres and wandered around and looked at all the different pieces.

I mostly remember a potato mounted to a wall that ran around on an irregular squiggly path, likely through some magnetic track embedded beneath the plaster.

He doesn’t remember that at all.

That said, he remembers this entire wall covered carefully in someone’s planner pages and posted over with endless notes on things-to-do.

There, he was like, “I hope that never’s my life.”

“That’s already my life,” I was like.

I don’t remember that artwork or exchange at all though, though he does, vividly. 

He says it was a moment of revelation about me.

Reflections of my one Asian-Canadian friend (1 of 2): The United States.

In relation to subprime mortgages and the cost of healthcare and whatnot, and how that can cause people to face major setbacks like losing their house:

“The basics aren’t guaranteed here.”

Me, a braggart.

I’m showing everyone my letter that I got published in that puzzle magazine.

All my life I’ve avoided bragging, but I really am very pleased with myself over this, and think my letter’s quirky and fun and cool, so I show it off.

Summertime's here!

It's really interesting how quickly my complexion changes during the summer.

On the one hand, my skin darkens up a bit if I stay out in the sun for a while.

On the other hand, my hair lightens up, esp. since I always slap on some juice from a lemon or a lime or an orange or a grapefruit if I'm going to be out walking or sitting in the sun.

My color doesn't exactly flip, but it's interesting how my hair gets lighter as my skin gets darker, after all winter of the opposite happening.

Conversation with the lady at the bakery near me.

The other week I was at the bakery near me, and I was chit-chatting with the slightly eccentric (white) woman in her late 40s who runs the place.

She said she was so happy about the weather, since she could garden more.

We then began talking about annual vs. perennials, and she said she just had to plant Shasta daisies, always, even though she could never get them to come back.

Then, I was like, "You know what's nice and re-seeds really easily, it's those bright orange flowers, they look a lot like a daisy, what are they called, chlamydia..."

"Coreopsis," she was like.

"Oh," I was like, laughing.  "I meant that."