Not a Monday but feels like one,what with the stress and the blues. Hop in my hoopty and head to Berzerkley to try to trade in some clothes. They’re old so my hopes aren’t too high. I love that I have a pair of Manolo Blahniks, three Tiffany necklaces, and a couple of designer power suits but some twentysomething tattooed granola in secondhand kitsch can turn her nose up at my old crap.(okay so I shouldn’t try to trade in things that are over three years old but a girl needs all the cash she can get.) Still, the sky is blue there. Near the parking meter, the toothless man with the cowboy hand puppet keeps asking if I want to buy an “Oregon board” but continues a different conversation before I can respond. Drop into Pegasus but their Psychology section only has old Freud case studies and textbooks. I revisit Girl Interrupted, one of the more famous borderline cases but I won’t learn anything hearing about outdated electroshock treatment and asylum stays. Drive away and both the 880 and 580 are backed up so I sneak through Alameda, drive along the beach, sneak over to Shoreline Park where the fog shrouds the City and the Golden Gate. The water is as gray as the sky. Try to head home but even 61 is a mess, construction everywhere.
Wish I had Marvin Gaye’s “Inner City Blues” on the iPod. Cuz it makes me wanna holler.