Saturday. OK, sun today, that's what they said. It's pretty darned overcast for sun, but maybe it will clear up later. There's a street festival advertised over on Telegraph near the campus this afternoon, that particular strip of stores, restaurants and sidewalk vendors evidently adds some marketing spin to the mix and calls it a holiday street fair to draw shoppers, so we'll see what's there.

Tired and so early to bed last night. To bed, get up, get back into bed, get up again before finally zonking out. Still, a decent night's sleep for all that. Up this morning at six without effort or the alarm, to breakfast and the papers, the Chronicle and the local Tribune, thin and little to read on what is for them, I'd guess, the slowest day in their week. Home now, still grey and overcast, but my attitude I'd say is pretty good. We'll see how the day progresses. We'll try that street fair on Telegraph if only because I need the pictures. We use a lot of pictures here in overcast Oakland.

Later. A call from Ms. M just now saying she's in town, let's have lunch today, so we met at Kincaids's in Jack London Square. Nice. I knew she was coming and we'd been talking about having lunch tomorrow, but this was a better fit in her schedule. So a nice lunch, she's out here interviewing for a job that will bring her back to the area, back now at the apartment at two. So much for Telegraph Avenue, but then I wasn't all that excited about it in the first place. There's another affair of some kind going on in Berkeley tomorrow, so we'll pick it up again Sunday in the afternoon.

The sun has finally arrived, by the way, they're saying sun through Monday, so whatever soul dampening the grey skies bring along with them is gone. Which is good. We'll sit down with the guitar for a while and figure out what to do, if I want to get out for a walk, if I want to vegetate here inside. We're heading into the week before Christmas and the old train is starting to pick up speed. Yes it is, here in Oakland.

Later still. Foggy, actually, the sun poking through, but just every now and then. A walk down the hill and across Grand to look out over the lake, a photograph or two that could have been better had I been more sharp, more on the ball. But that's good, best to know when you're dogging it, we can turn that around.

A walk then down to the local convenience store to buy a Snickers ice cream bar, taking a picture of the Old Crow Tattoo Art Gallery truck as I approached, and then noticing, when I walked on to the store, they were painting the opposite side of the truck. I'd wondered earlier about that: why is was white. Interesting to watch. When I came to San Francisco the art thing at the time was rock and roll posters for the Family Dog and the Fillmore and the then emerging underground comix. Now it seems to be tagging and tattoos. Not an exact analogy, but close.

I noticed they were spraying without a mask. Best not to spray without a mask. Cost Stanley Mouse a liver, I seem to recall: all that time spent over an air brush. Takes time to come, but it comes if you inhale enough of that stuff.

And you mentioned this to them?

Christ, all they need is some old fart walking up and giving them unsolicited advice. They're familiar with the issue, this isn't the first time they've picked up a spray can (maybe the first time they've done it during the day out in the open just like regular folks), but there's lots of information bouncing around out there and more than a little (I suspect) unsolicited advice. They probably haven't had anyone they know lose a liver or a lung yet. One hopes they won't.

And that's the way your ending this?

I suspect.