Here are the new outlines that I got on Thursday night. I'm working on a big piece; next we'll add the tentacle/seaweed from the classic illustration of Hans Christian Andersen's "The Little Mermaid," when she's swimming into the witch's lair, and some swirly purple/blue/black wind bar sky.... and color... YEY!! 

Awww; the kitties and stars make me sooo happy!!!

Kitties are from "The Tale of Tom Kitten" by Beatrix Botter...

Stars are from Maurice Sendak's "In the Night Kitchen" 

beees from Mark Ryden! yey! 

Commuting

Riding BART every day, I tend to pay attention to the patterns of flow and class within the trains and at different times. I noticed that there are two full trains of upper-class business folks; the ones super early in the morning who go to the financial district in SF and have to be up for Wall Street and the rest of the folks, who get to work sometime between 9:10 and 10:30.

Just before the super early rich folks are the service workers, who need to open shops and make coffee for the yuppies. I have no idea how those brave folks manage to function that early in the morning without going postal.

Between the two groups of folks working in SF are the folks who come in to work in downtown Oakland by 9 am. It took me a while to sort out the difference in my mind, and to figure that it wasn't just that Oakland was full of sticklers who wanted people to come in earlier than 75% of the San Fran workers because of a lack of respect for a workforce more ethnically diverse and less finely clothed. I kept wondering if there weren't some sort of difference in managerial opinions of work ethic between SF and Oakland. Flexible schedules seem to be more popular in San Francisco, and the work force in downtown SF is decidedly whiter and, from what I've seen on craigslist, better paid. But perhaps there's a strictness in Oakland, I puzzled, a sort of 'you have to do things this way because that's the way they're done' ethic. Or perhaps there is a mistrust of the worker's moral impulse to be responsible about finishing their work if left to their own devices. Was it a cultural issue? Was it a form of reflexive classism?

It occurred to me eventually that those folks don't have as long of a commute, which probably explains most of the difference in commuter destination timing. But it is interesting that downtown Oakland tends to be 9-5, while SF seems to be 8-5 or 10-? ....

And I also notice other ways of getting where you're going while I'm riding the BART. I found myself significantly less interested in the time schedules of different classes of office workers on day in particular when I looked out of the window and saw, under the freeway near MacArthur, a couple sitting on egg crates, facing each other amidst their few belongings. She was tenderly fixing his tie. Only his tie wasn't silk. It was a white plastic grocery bag being used as a tourniquet so that they could find a vein for him to shoot up.

BASTARDS!!!!

Dude; I can' t believe it!
Some fucker posted a comment to my last post that was an AD!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaa!
I feel so filthy, and I can't figure out how to delete the stupid comment without taking out the entire post...
KILL KILL KILL KILL!

Here's the post, # changed of course.

1 Comments:
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filth....
.... pooooo!....

I like to call this my Fergie Hat....

Check out my totally sweet new Kangol angora visor...

My mighty awe goes to: toothpaste for dinner
Worship them, worship them good.
www.toothpastefordinner.com

Holy friggin' crap.

Man.....
Here I am...
I was looking through google image search for some cute little picture to put on my list of managers' meetings, 'cause... well... that's what I'm up to today...
Well, I came across this lovely comic...

www.toothpastefordinner.com

you can't help but love them...

Almost as much as I love visiting my friends down at the coffee cart. I was saying hi to Kim (hi Kim!) one afternoon a couple of weeks ago, catching up, leaning on the coffee cart while she served someone a cafe au lait.
I had plenty of time to observe him, since he wanted to know what every espresso drink was, cafe au lait, macchiato... He was tall; perhaps half a foot over six feet, and skinny enough to be nearly living on espresso products. He was wearing tight black jeans -- they may have had pseudo lacing up the sides -- and a black leather belt that was about four inches wide. The belt had no buckle; instead both ends had eighteen inches or so of fringe, and the fringe was tied together in a square knot under his navel. His shirt was tight as well, and under one eye he'd drawn two black spots of eyeliner, while the outer corner of his other eye sported two swishes of the liquid eyeliner brush like eyelashes.
He was very friendly.
He didn't quite understand that, for a cafe au lait to be a cafe au lait, you have to leave some room in the cup for the steamed milk to fit in.
Other than that, it was a fairly normal transaction. Kin made his coffee, handed it to him, took his money and gave him change.
And then he shared with us a little tidbit about himself.
He said that he'd not become tall until he was seventeen.
He clarified, "My growth was stunted because my babysitter fed me human blood when I was a kid."

He thanked Kim for the coffee and headed off down the street. Kim and I stood looking out across the pastries for a moment.
"Did he just say his growth was stunted because his babysitter fed him human blood as a child?" I asked her.
We stood for another moment of silence.
"Yes. ...yes he did..."

... ahhhh... San Francisco...