An autistic man walking in front of me:
“A cigarette butt on the sidewalk. A napkin. A straw.”
3:08 p.m.
Tag: overheard
OVERHEARD
Subject: New Economy moment on Muni.
Characters: Young, hostile woman having a loud public conversation on her cell phone.
You didn’t send them yet?! Send it. Send it now… Yes! Now… OK, what else? I’m about to go into the tunnel… What do you mean?… No, we haven’t moved yet… On the 14th, why?… Would you spit it out? What do you want?… Yeah. What do you want?… WHAT? Are you joking?… No way. I’m not paying for that, why would you think that?… I never, ever said that… No, I didn’t… I never, never, never said I would pay for it, you’re insane!… I don’t even know where you’re getting that… Oh my God. No I didn’t. That’s $1,000, you think I just have that kind of money laying around?… WHAT? I did not say “Go to Africa, it’s on me.” That’s a joke… Why would I say that? I don’t have $1,000 laying around… Yes, I said that, and I sent you $100 for it last month. Yes… You know what your problem is? You think I’m made of money… Yes, you do. I’m beginning to see why you get so upset when I don’t just send you checks on a whim… I’m not made of money, I work for it, and I have a lot of stuff to pay for… OK, look, I didn’t say that, but if you thought I was going to pay for the trip, and you honestly believed that, I’ll try to help out… Yeah… If I have any cash this month, I’ll send it to you. OK, Dad?”
11:08 a.m.
3:04 p.m.
Overheard: Young Love on the J-Church
Characters: Badass prepubescent boy slouched in his seat, practicing tough face. Sassy prepubescent girl stands in the aisle near him.
Her: Stop stepping on my shoe.
Him: Huh. Huh.
Her: HYUH! HYUH! (Mocks him with corresponding “this is how inbred you look when you laugh like that” face.) Stop stepping on my shoe!
Him: I ain’t.
(She shoves him. His head rocks back and bumps the bus window.)
Him: HuhHuh. I ain’t. (He isn’t.)
Her: HYUH! HYUH! (Exaggerated threatening face, raises hand to hit him. He flinches, holds hands up to shield face.)
Him: Huhhuhhuh.
Her: Why you run from me when I try to hit you? You afraid? Afraid of a giiiiiirl?
Him: Nah. I ain’t afraid. Huhhuhhuh.
Her: HYUH!HYUH!HYUH!
(He makes a face. She makes a face. He makes a face. She makes a face. Both gather their things to exit at the school stop. She kicks at the backs of his shoes as he shuffles off the bus.)
Her: Go dawg.(kick) GO! (Kick) Go dawg. (kick) Go dawg. (kick)
Him: Huhhuhhuhhuhhuh.
9:49 a.m.
I’ve been collecting silhouette photos.
How come you don’t get any of the really good compliments until you’re dead?
“She would rather light candles than curse the darkness and her glow has warmed the world.”
-Adlai Stevenson Eulogy of Eleanor Roosevelt, November 7, 1962
12:47 p.m.
Overheard: Young Love outside the Hush Hush.
The characters: Ranting college girl in hip pigtails. Dull, pretty young man in baggy jeans.
Her: So it’s like you just hurt me as much as you possibly can, you fuck me over time after time, you destroy my self-esteem, you fuck around on me. YOU FUCK AROUND ON ME! (Taps his sternum with her finger to emphasize point.) I was stupid enough to think we could still work it out, and just when I think we can, you dump me for someone else. And now you want me back?
Him:�Yeah.
10:56 a.m.
Found a post on, Small Japanese Notebook that struck me as a concise description of being 16:
“i suddenly don’t like my friends. or a good majority of them.”
5:14 p.m.
I was on the Haight awhile back and overheard a conversation between three men. Two of them had been fighting and one asked the third man his opinion:
“I don’t know Jim, you were servin Tommy with some pretty aggressive tones.”3:34 p.m.
EMAIL MOMENT!
Subject: Friend from college writes, filling me in on the friends he saw over Christmas break.
Excerpt:
…And I swear my friend Mike
smoked about fourteen acres of hash down in Brazil.
Like I don’t know if he’s got a complete sentence in
him anymore. But 99 percent of my friends are tops. Including
Mike, who may well be able to read without moving
his lips by April.10:40 a.m.
My friend Katy is 5’2″, beautiful, and blessed with a tangle of curly black hair. I spent New Year’s Eve with her, and every ten minutes or so a new guy noticed her:
“Awwww, I like ’em petite!”
“Ooo. I’ve had wet dreams about that hair.”
“Hello there, little girl. Wanna sit on my lap?”
Like she was going to saunter up, plop down on his lap, and wrap her legs around him. “Oh, Romeo. Don’t be so coy. (Insert bubbling laughter.)” Glah! By the end of the night I felt like my brain needed a shower, and none of it was even directed at me.
2:32 p.m.
My friend Sam is leaving San Francisco, and he made some good points in his farewell note. Another one bites the dust:
WHEREAS, despite the greatly-exaggerated demise of the New Economy,
housing prices in San Francisco are still the second-highest in the world,
andWHEREAS the Bay Area is swimming in cultural events which are all
within driving distance, but which lack parking anywhere within the same zip
code, andWHEREAS we spend over two hours commuting each day, and
WHEREAS we and two cats would like to move in together and have a
front porch for something under $1000 a month, andWHEREAS it might be nice to purchase a house within the next five
years without a Tokyo-style mortgage, andWE THE UNDERSIGNED (to wit, my girlfriend and I) do hereby declare:
YEA, VERILY, we are getting the Duck out of fodge.
12:07 a.m.
Oooh Virtual Bubble Wrap. Such satisfying pop-like sounds. Must move hand away from mouse to wipe moronic drool from chin.
10:27 a.m.
This magazine ad for Christina Aguilera’s new album reads like a blurb for a porn video:
“Like her other hits from RCA’s Christina Aguilera, “Come On Over (All I Want is You)” finds the perky popster piping her tales of teen appetite.”
2:46 p.m.
11:29 a.m.
A woman and man walking up the subway stairs behind me:
She: …all relationships could use a little more communication. All of them. For me, what I need is to know what’s going on with the other person.
He: Did you sleep with him?
She: What? I’m talking about us, not him.
He: Mmm.
She: I’m not talking about sex, I’m talking about communication.
He: Mmm.
9:40 a.m.
From this week’s Onion:
Hypothetical Question Clearly Not Hypothetical
YUMA, AZ– Brad Thorstadt was rattled Monday,
when hiking partner and longtime friend Ken
Daniels asked him a hypothetical question that
clearly was not hypothetical. “What the hell did
he mean by, ‘Hypothetically speaking, if you and
Cheryl were into threesomes, would you consider
me?'” Thorstadt asked. “That’s not the kind of
thing you just ask hypothetically.” Thorstadt
added that he likes Daniels and everything, but
damn.3:08 p.m.
Overheard a city mom talking to her little girl. They passed a produce stand and mom said:
“Look at the all the fruits and vegetables! Do you see the asparagus?” Pointing to a stack of neatly trussed bunches. “You have a toy asparagus at home, but that�s how they grow in the wild.”
I�d like to hear her take on hamburger.
12:40 p.m.
Things I heard in the Castro last night:
- Guy in a Renaissance-Faire-type outfit: “That’s exactly the kind of Spock costume I want. Blue, the badge… original series.”
- Girl in Viking Hat with Large Group and Large Beer: “I’ll be 18 in TWO HOURS! WooooooooHooooooooo!” Much high-fiving.
- Naked Playing Card Girl: “Have you seen the rest of my deck?”
- Twelve 20 year olds who had climbed atop the bus stop shelter: “ROCK AND ROLL! ROCK AND ROLL WILL NEVER DIE!!”
- Luke to Princess Lea: “Where’d I put my light saber? Do you have it? Shit… I think someone ripped off my light saber.”
11:22 a.m.
Mighty Girl 