Sight on my commute in the other day:

A car slowly edging up the street in the bikelane, going the wrong way on a boulevard.

As I pass, there's a(n old) (black) lady in turquoise sitting in there and looking to her left, like she's going to do a U-turn and get into a parking space.

She doesn't seem disoriented, per se, but more like she made the wrong choice, and should have been backing up to do what she wanted to do, rather than drive the wrong way down a one-way street.

Sights at a New Age fair the other weekend:

1) At a pyramid power booth, a (fat) (slow-eyed) (hispanic) man sitting underneath a pyramid made of metal pipes, next to a sign that says "$20 for 10 minutes."

2) At that same pyramid power booth, a (thin) (Asian) woman lying on a small bed with a thin mattress, in the midst of a frame that goes over her and forms a shelf on which pyramids of various sizes are laid end-to-end, all over her about a foot from her body.

3) Behind a row of vending booths, a man standing in the middle of a metal bowl that's about two feet across and a foot or two high, and another man whacks a long metal pipe against it and sets a low tone off, and then slowly moves the ringing long metal pipe around all over his body, just a bit over it, here and there in broad swipes, all very slowly, all over his body, just a bit over it.

4) As I pass by a booth that has a "TOE READING" sign out front, two young women pass by, and one says rather nonchalantly but still quite seriously, "Toe-reading, I've never seen that before."

5) As I walk past the area of the grounds with a labyrinth, there's all these people pacing very slowly and looking very seriously at the ground beneath their steps, and occasionally people bump into each other, and they look up and look confused and like they're not quite sure what to do, and two people are walking by me, and one is like to the other, "I think they laid that out wrong," and the other agrees...

A sight on my bikeride into work the other week:

As I cross the highway and get down onto the other side, over in the tall dead trash-filled weeds by a bus stop by the viaduct, a(n old) (Chinese) man in a floppy white hat with his back to the street is looking up at a(n old) (Chinese) woman in a floppy white hat sitting on some forlorn concrete steps that for some reason are in the tall dead trash-filled weeds, and I think to myself that they're waiting for the bus there, and that they're the only ones there, and also that I never noticed the steps or the weeds or the trash at all ever before.

Compliments from some neighbors.

The other week on a Sunday I was sitting out on a chair on my stoop and reading a book, and every once in a while people would walk by, sometimes with a dog, and say hi.

At one point, a (white) couple in their early 30s strolled by with their dog, and the woman was like, "Is that your sign?", pointing to my "UNIONS ARE THE SOLUTION FOR A RIGGED ECONOMY" sign taped up in my window.

"Yes," I was like, "I got it at the march downtown on Labor Day."

"I like it," she was like.

It really is like the gum that you like, is coming back into style.

You know how I know when fall truly hits, every single effing year?

One day it's sunny out but a bit cooler, and I'm biking on my usual routes like I usually do, and suddenly it's just like one bad driver after another after another, like all of a sudden everywhere you look no-one is looking out for bikes any more.

Then, I know it's fall.

Lemons to lemonade.

You know what's helped me deal with my endlessly precarious work situation?

Reframing that as worthwhile experience, that helps me understand what people are going through, and which make my efforts at unionization and social change all the more impressive, since I did them despite my endlessly precarious, time-sucking work for shit wages.

It really is a biography for today, that people respect.  In a way, without knowing it, I developed integrity and a narrative.

"Who woulda thunk."

A dream the other week, of musicians.

The other week I dreamnt -

I'm in a diner, and at the stool by the end slumping a bit against the wall is this (light-skinned black) (male) musician, very thin and with a pencil moustache, and I see him and he's strung out and I know that he got back onto heroin, which is why he isn't in the studio right then like he should be, doing a songwriting collab with Bob Dylan and Moby, and I know that Moby made an effort and ended up making it to work with Dylan, but heroin kept this other guy from doing the same thing.

. . .