transformers valentine

Saturday morning ritual: coffee in my cup and a scone at Peaberry's. Ten minutes before work and look at all the white liberals with children. I'm sitting outside, euro-style and it's cold, but I don't mind. I used to be really afraid of the cold, but lately I've been loving it. Ice cold fingers and I'm ready to push that black cart around, ready to scan some barcodes, ready to sneak peaks at thousand page books. Some guy gives me a Valentine's Day card. He says, here you go, dude. I think he was with his girlfriend. I guess he was just in the spirit. Later I'm shopping with Frank. Somehow we always manage to shop. I indulge and buy that "truck ornament" from Bangladesh at that high-camp store Castle in the Air in Berkeley. Love and hate that place at the same time, but my truck ornament is shimmering.



more on the play about the castrati: http://www.ciertoshabitantes.com/index2.php?idioma=ingles&ira=galeria&menu_datos_obra=1&id=6