at work.

eating lunch.

fuck the soup nazi, he fucked my order up again. that's the last time i order a sandwich there. if it weren't for the fact that the 1/2 chicken ceaser salad was so good, i would give him the finger, turn over his potato chip twirl-about and be done with it.

but that salad is like the stuff, man.

it's really beautiful outside, high california clouds against the oakland skyline and the green hills behind it. i love the way everything is on top of each other here, and how oakland is a big strange mix, like a garage sale of styles. things people gave up, they found their way here.

oakland (and its trains) makes me think of jack kerouac a hell of a lot more than san francisco does. at least the jack kerouac that i carry around the most.

and all i really want is to be in bed, listening to the rachels, watching my curtains kick at the air like synchronized swimmers.

i'm dreaming of you, bunnies.