2003-09-03 - 12:38 a.m.

GBV tomorrow. Fuck. That's gonna be a good show.

Today was kinda odd. I went to bed early last night--I got home from that party (where I talked the ear off of the singer for the Anchormen and for no reason kept mentioning the Frogs) and it still wasn't 10:00. I mean, maybe it's just having that much time off. I dunno. We did (the Roommate and I, mind you) have a full weekend.

Got up mad early, did some crazy floor-washing and a buncha other stuff, left feeling levelheaded and aware, and hand-delivered my rent check.

At work, I realized about fifteen little mistakes I had made shortly after I made them, but before I ultimately left. (Note: I make stupod maistaikes here all,teh time, that'sdifferent(. Stupid, obvious mistakes, and it made me wonder whether I was being stupid today for making them but at least I had the brains to catch them, or if I always make little stupid mistakes and that, by catching them today, I was being uncharacteristically focused.

On the train ride home, I realized two little stupid mistakes, but it was too late. Tiny, stupid mistakes, maybe nobody will notice or point them out, but same question.

Pissed that I had earlier forgotten my book, I waited for the bus to board and take me home. I got on and the bus seemed different, and it was--instead of one row of single seats and one row of double seats, there were two rows of double seats, which made it almost impossible to move to the back, so I didn�t. I�ve never seen a bus like this. I know I�ve never been on a bus like this--I�d remember that.

And there was a bizarre dude calmly telling a story to the bus driver. He was big with a big head but small eyes too close together. He was carrying a walkie-talkie radio thing that made no noise, and was trumped out in athletic gear. He also talked to passengers getting on, and I couldn�t tell if he worked for the T or just wished he did. He seemed pretty knowledgeable about what shifts and bus lines the drivers worked.

She was in Dunkin� Donuts, he said to the driver, and he was blind. In Dunkin� Donuts. Was blind, he was blind, and he was crossing the Dunkin�, the street, he couldn�t see. And he was crossing Broadway and was blind with the shopping cart. And she was in Dunkin� Donuts! He couldn�t see. And I said, what are you doing in Dunkin� Donuts? And he couldn�t see well.

And he was blind, and there was this car coming up the shopping cart, the foggy hill, this shopping cart, and he couldn�t see. With a shopping cart. Because he was blind, crossing Broadway with his shopping cart. Up the hill. And there was this car coming up the hill, and it was foggy out. And the car couldn�t see because it was up the hill. And I said what are you doing, you�re his mother, you�re supposed to be helping him with his laundry, and you�re in Dunkin� Donuts! You�re his mother, and he can�t see well because he�s blind, and it�s a busy street and you�re supposed to be helping him do his laundry.

The way he told the story was as muddy and loose as a dream is, and I had to pinch myself. I had a roll of paper towels I was playing like a drum, on this freak bus with the seats assembled the wrong way, I and got off before I normally would because it wasn�t the bus that takes me all the way home.

As I was walking home, I thought about when I was in high school, and the wind was cold and had just turned that way, and a few trees were newly bare, and I was walking around West Roxbury, and I looked up at a tree because I wanted to remind myself of how beautiful a grey sky is when seen through bare tree branches, and there was a loaf of bread.

Up in the branches. A grey 6:30 pm sky, magically blustery winds, and a plastic wrapped loaf of bread nestled in the otherwise bare tree branches above me.

Nobody believed me. But it happened.

So just as I was thinking about that, walking a little slow and enjoying the weather, occasionally peering at the rain-soaked September 1st (moving day) Somerville garbage, I looked up and then took two quick steps to my right to get out of the way of a Spectra-guard night watchman (in uniform, of course), running full speed past me.

I have no idea why. He wasn�t chasing anybody. Nobody was chasing him. There was nothing to (Spectra) guard anywhere nearby save the Somerville Hospital, a mile away. There was no logical place to which he might be running.

I�m fairly confident that I notice just about everything of note that�s around me. So I guess the question of the day is do I? Does stuff like this happen more than I realize, and for whatever reason I�m noticing it just today? Or was today just a quirky day to file away?