327 Market

I am writing from my sister's computer in San Hoe. I have been computer deprived for the last few days.

Friday night, the Mster and I went to the poetry reading at the wired wash. I half expected to see some black turtlenecked, conga banging beatniks, but alas, it was dominated by classic flip-flop town self-rightous hippy types bemoaning the war. (I agree war is hell, and there is a lot to bemoan), but poem after poem gets old. The Mster totally stole the show with her poem about the take-out taxi (one of my personal favorites). She became an instant mini-celebrity, all of the other poets gathered around her at the end to touch the hem of her turquoise coat. Then we went to the Poet and Patriot (a nice young man bought me a drink, Score!) and I didn't get too smoky.

On Saturday I dragged myself to an inservice at San Hoe State. We all collectively got in touch with our inner artists (ART CONNECTS PEOPLE TO UNIVERSAL TRUTHS!) and danced around the lecture hall embodying art-truths. Then we went upstairs and banged drums in a circle. I actually had a hard time, its difficult to do rhythmic activities when not every one has rhythm (including [gasp] moi!). I got paid, too. I love mah job!

Question, why are there two garages called "The fourth street garage" that have absolutely nothing else to do with each other? Only in San Hoe. Currer's Grandpappy wouldln't have done something so unoriginal.

This morning I went to a Lutheran church in Milpitas (its becoming a theme, eh?). BTW, Luther did not support the Peasant Wars. Later, I shall be heading North to HMB and my father's windows (that need plastering, yeah family!).

I feel like celebrating the first rain of the season. Good-bye brown, hello green.