Flashback to Summer 2002...

So, last month I was texting a friend about the time that we were roommates back in the summer of 2002, and I had a flashback to what life was like back then:

1) VCR tapes were around (since DVD was just beginning).

2) Cell phones were just starting to get used in a big way.

3) Blogs were odd and new and only strange people did them (e.g. Diabolique, which isn't even accessible on the web anymore).

4) People were just starting to digest and talk about September 11th.

How far away that seems.

People ran into each other instead of being hyperconnected, and there was more mental space to chill and just let things happen.

Downstairs stoner neighbor's perspective: Rock vs. Jazz.

So, I ran into my one stoner neighbor from the first floor front apartment the other week.

"My dad said he was talking with you," I was like.

"Who was your dad?", he was like, and after I told him, he was like, "Oh, so that's who that old guy smoking outside was, I couldn't figure that out."

"And you just talked to him anyway?", I was like.

"Yeah, bro," he was like.  "He was nice.  I mean, like, why not, bro."

He then said that my dad was interested in how he was a musician, and I asked him about his gigs.

He started telling me about how they got someone cool to sub in, which confused me since I thought that his band had a stable line-up, which also included his roommate.

He said they do, but with jazz groups, you work your way up by getting known to be quality and having better and better people coming to play with you.

"That's why jazz is so much better than rock," my neighbor was like.  "You hear all these people, one person quits and their band breaks up, that never happens with jazz, people just rotate in and out."

He added that that variety was a lot of fun, too.

Humor from my mother: Phone convo.

Every once in a while, my mom tells me that I bitch too much on the phone.

The other day we had just started talking, and my cheek accidentally hit the side of my smartphone and hung up, which happens sometimes.

So, I called her right back.

"You were just saying something good," she was like, facetiously.

Update: Kids in my apartment's backyard.

So, the other week I was going inside, and there's the tenant from the first floor apartment rear.

"Hey," I was like, and I told her how I had taken out recycling and there were all the kids staring up at me.

"Yeah," she was like, "Those are my nieces and nephews, they're over here a lot during the summer."

I then told her how they showed me a bunch of bugs.

"You wouldn't believe it," she was like, and she told me how her niece has a worm collection and always collects new ones and wants to keep them inside.

Moral Dilemma: Lost Shoes.

So, the other week when I was at school, I had to get so many books out of the library that I actually had to take my gym shoes out of my backpack and tie them to the side strap of my backpack, so that I could fit all the books in.

Then, after the gym and when I finally get home, I'm walking from where I park my bike to my apt., and all of a sudden I realize that my gym shoes aren't tied on to my backpack anymore, though I had registered them there and hanging down at some point on my ride home, as they dangled off my backpack and under my right handlebar.

It was already like 9:40pm at night and I had had a really long day and I would have had to bike back probably 10-25 minutes in one direction, to find where they dropped off, if they were still there.

"Ugh," I sighed at thinking that, and some artists standing outside smoking nearby asked me what was up.

I told them, and then also told them that these were gym shoes with just the right amount of support for my arches, and also that it was environmentally very wasteful to just not care about them like that, then I asked if I should retrace my steps.

"Yeah, I think you should," said this (white) (late 20s) (over emotive) (overweight) (female) artist.

So, I went home, dropped off my crap, and then slowly retraced my route by bike.

I expected that a couple places where I hit bumps or an incline they might have dropped off, but they weren't there... and then all of a sudden there my gym shoes were, in the middle of a quiet street where some pavement had been torn up and I had been forced to bike over some very bump-y bumps.

I got them, noted that they had been run over and were a bit dusty, and wrapped the laces around my hand and biked on home.

By then, it was almost like 10:30pm, but I decided that the artists should know.

So, I walked over to their gallery, and there they all were working on some installation behind the big plate glass window facing out front.

I tapped on the window gently, and as soon as 3 of the 5 there saw me they knew exactly what was up, and the (overweight) (over emotive) artist was like, "Uh, yeaaaahhhh!", as I held up my gym shoes in celebration.

"I thought you should have narrative closure," I said loudly and distinctly from outside, in response.

Awesome name of a (black) (female) customer service worker I saw the other week:

AQUANETTA

Park-cleaning compliments through the roof...

...from my walk the other week where I picked up trash again:

1) A (30-something) (white) (male) jogger grunted out "good man, good man" as he went bye.

2) A (monolingual) (old) Chinese couple were very interactive; the old guy gave me a thumbs up and the woman pointed out pieces of trash way out beyond an elevated walkway, and made a gesture with her arm like she could jokingly pick it up from so far away, and both were approving when I ran into them again as they were leaving the park.

3) Another (old) (Chinese) person said "good job, good job", as I was going up the hillside.

...I really have no idea why I'm getting so many compliments this summer; I cleaned up some last summer too, and didn't get any...