A small night in Jet City, a fine dinner of fish and vegetables prepared by my girl, some reading, a bit of writing. Nothing to write home about, so to speak, but certainly worth mentioning, if only to point out to myself that while I might bitch about not having to struggle against death and dismemberment every day here on the West Coast as I keep telling myself I did on the East Coast, the only time I came home to supper and a pretty girl and a kiss was...hmmm...never, I guess. So stop yer whining, Billyhank, and understand that it's important to enjoy good things while they're there. Just go and enjoy, ya whiny fucker.

Today was cold & bitter & sad, weatherwise, one of those days that turned my hands red while I was waiting for the bus to roll up. The 74 pulls up to a spot near the shore of Lake Union and there's very little in the way of natural windbreaks, so the wind comes whipping across the water from the north or tunneling up Westlake from the south and man, that's the kind of cold that just sinks into you.

But yesterday, my God. A day of utterly astounding beauty. Blue skies and so warm that I had to stuff both sweatshirt & windbreaker into my bag and listen to EELS and just hum and sway and smile at the other folk waiting for the bus and just generally make an ass out of myself. But, well, fuck it. It was just a nice day, the right kind of day to make an ass of one's self, yah?

And, y'know, since I've been in this town I've found myself even more thoroughly out-cooled than I ever was back East, so I've given up. I grow my little facial hair, cuff my jeans, tuck in my shirt and fuck being cool. I'm done with that. And if you're done with being cool, then you're cool to make an ass of yourself by enjoying a beautiful day down at the bus stop. And so, yeah. I'm cool to make an ass of myself, and my God, that's a lovely feeling.

All right, that's it. Billyhank keeps oversleeping, so he needs to head for bed. Sweet dreams, y'all. I'll talk to you soon.