327 Market

I smell like a smokey ember and my eyes are a bit irritated. I just got back from the beach. Met this guy who is a guitarist for a death metal band and he let me play his ax (it was really a tiny Fender, with nylon strings... I regalled the company with "Father Abraham" and a song I made up on the spot about the Celestial Being coming to the beach-- she asked for it. I am a follower of the tracy chapman school of lyric writing).
I discovered its difficult to find salmon in the West Side. Neither the Food bin, nor the Esperanza market had it. (they were playing Nuetral Milk Hotel at the Food Bin... not exactly the most apetizing music, "the father made fetuses with flesh licking ladies while you and your mother were up in the trailer park..." but made for a very surreal shopping experience). These are the moments that I will treasure forever-- looking for something grillable whilst listening to songs of incest and cannibalism.