~ our day lacked spectacular happenings. we went shopping.

~ when my speedometer stopped working, it was no cause for concern, for los angeles traffic demands that you drive at your car’s maximum possible speed at all times, which doesn’t pose a problem legally, for the mazda 323se’s top speed can never approach the legal limit without shaking itself into pieces.

after two years of climbing through the passenger side door–due to driver’s door being un-unlockable from the outside–i just gave up and stopped locking the door if i would be back at the car within forty-eight hours. however, now the door lock is broken from the inside, as well, so i can’t exit the car via the door, with the inside or the outside handle. after leap month, i’ll be returning to the bike.

~ my sixth-in-sixteen-months roommate moved in about four o’clock this morning. i am pretty sure that it is a temporary arrangement; she wants to live someplace else, and i have other plans for the house in april.

~ in studio, michael rotondi is telling people to describe what space means where they are from. he points around the room and calls off various people’s homes: ‘singapore…puerto rico…south america’. he stares at me for a minute, and asks: ‘where are you from?’ i answer: ‘georgia’ everyone laughs, until i ask: ‘what’s so funny, do y’all see anyone else here from georgia?’

~ it doesn’t matter now, for, as i was telling my new roommate – she happens to be from munich and was lamenting her position of having to talk to ‘losers’ because they are the only germans she knows – we are all from los angeles now.

~ this is a fairly self-conscious endeavor. the reader probably imagines that something amazing must have occurred and inspired me to create this log. today, though, i spent most of the day in the library doing research or laying out photos of the site i found for this semester. well, i went down to the marina for lunch, and i was walking through the shopping center, wondering if i should buy bad coffee that is convenient or good coffee that is out of my way when i was passed by a man in white lycra shorts; i wasn’t going to ‘look’ at his penis, but i couldn’t help it. it practically jumped out at me. i thought that i’d been around a bit, but even ‘snag this’ and ‘the rustler’ paled in comparison. i don’t know how to describe his member without just admitting that i was frightened. what was this guy doing out in public? for that matter, what would this guy do in private? his johnson seemed better suited for a mule than for another human. i feel sorry for his partner, who no doubt regrets what probably was once considered a fortunate novelty.

~ well, telling stories that make me appear to be obsessed with a stranger’s genitals is perhaps an unfortunate way to begin the latest feature of the angry red planet, but my feeling that this won’t be going anywhere relieves me from investing too much.