Another dang skateboarder, weaving between pedestrians on the sidewalk. His people-dodging wasn't dangerous and he seemed to be expert at it, but his speed and proximity probably pissed off everyone as he whizzed past. It sure annoyed me when he vroomed six inches from my knee.

He was my age, though, so thumbs up from this fat gray lump on the sidewalk to that skinny athletic gray shredding Adonis. It's cool seeing an old man act like an adolescent asswipe, rolling faster on the sidewalk than the traffic in the street.

He wasn't wearing a helmet, either, and hooray for that. Unless you're on a motorcycle or playing football, you're a wussy if you're wearing a helmet. Nobody wore a helmet skateboarding or bike-riding when I was a kid, and I still silently snicker when I see it.

When I see something that might be semi-interesting, I jot it into my notebook, or in the margin of a magazine. The notes are intended to shake a memory loose later at the typewriter, so the system works best before the memory fades — notes two or three weeks old are usually useless.

Here's a note in a magazine I read a month ago, and it only says "lady in black at bus stop," but it launches a memory in high-def in my head:

I was waiting for the #128 bus on a cloudy morning, sun barely up, dew on the grass, not much traffic yet. Looking down the street, I was hoping to see the bus turn a corner and come into view.

Instead what came into view was almost a ninja woman — a silhouette, because she was cloaked in black lycra pants, a skintight black jacket, and a full black ski-mask hiding her hair and everything except her eyes.

She trotted around the corner, toward me at the bus stop, all dark and footsteps, coming toward and then past me, leaving only the green of her eyes behind. Not a dark green, but the shade of evergreen leaves. No notes needed, to remember her eyes as she walked by and glanced at me.

After she'd passed, I turned and watched her jog down the street. The street was SW 116th, and I watched as she crossed the next street and the street after that, until she vanished around a corner three blocks away. Almost missed my bus, because I'd been looking in the wrong direction.

I remember everything about that woman in black a month ago, and in five years I'll still remember.

There's only one other random woman who's stayed with me that way. It was at least 25 years ago, and I was in Oakland, eating Twinkies and walking toward the Grand Lake Theater to see a movie.

She was on a bike, waiting at a stop light. She was blonde, overweight, and beautiful, wearing a mostly-blue mid-length dress that had yellow interlocking rectangles. You'd think a dress on a bike might be difficult, the fabric might get caught in the gears or something, but snags would be impossible for that lady. Also I'm sure her hair never tangled and her legs shaved themselves.

The light turned green, and the lady on the bike pedaled away. I'd only seen her for perhaps ten seconds, and I'm sure she hadn't seen me at all, but if I saw her today I'd know it was the same woman.

Something else to dislike about the boarding house where I live: The water pressure in the shower is so low, lowest in my life, that I don't think I'm getting clean. You need the water coming out with some ooomph to it, to rinse the suds out of your hair and off your skin, but the shower here has no ooomph.

On a cool day I start feeling sticky 5-6 hours after stepping out and drying off. On a warm day, it's maybe two hours before I need another shower. Feels like I haven't had a truly good shower since moving in.

And it's on purpose. Robert and Dean have mentioned it, and I believe them when they say the landlord keeps the water pressure down, to save money. Even at the sinks in the kitchen and bathroom, the cold water comes out full with exclamation points like you'd expect, but the hot water at the kitchen and bathroom sinks is a trickle.

I've complained about Dean, so I guess fairness requires me to mention that he finally took away his moldy spaghetti sauce, just a few hours after I took the giant open-air pot out of the fridge and put it on the counter.

He dumped it down the toilet, which it still slightly orange.

More of the news you need, whether or not you know you need it…

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Sarah Polley, who played the little girl in Terry Gilliam's Adventures of Baron Munchausen (which I saw a few days ago; review soon) remembers it as a hellish and dangerous experience.

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Biden to require electric vehicle charging stations every 50 miles on federal highways

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Is the word 'marijuana' racist? (No.)

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One-word newscast, because it's the same news every time...

• climate • climate • climate

• cops • cops • cops • cops • cops • cops

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The End

• Oris Buckner

• Julee Cruise

• Paul Vance

6/13/2022
Tip 'o the hat to Linden Arden, ye olde AVA, BoingBoing, Breakfast at Ralf's, Captain Hampockets, CaptCreate's Log, John the Basket, LiarTownUSA, Meme City, National Zero, Ran Prieur, Voenix Rising, and anyone else whose work I've stolen without saying thanks.
Extra special thanks to Becky Jo, Name Withheld, Dave S, Wynn Bruce, and always Stephanie...