Geese squawking and squabbling for tossed bread; the shells of turtles breaking the surface of water; hunks of blood-ribboned sooty meat, inexplicably lying on the sidewalk and guarded by seagulls; tender knobs of mushroom jutting out of prickly lawn; where do pigeons fly to die?

Sneaking into the movie theatre or walking in, no ticket needed, 'cuz Jimmy works next door; but we see blockbusters, flicks that induce winces. Bruce Almighty? A cinematic fantasy of predestination for the disgruntled middle-aged white American Christian male, where non-whites are either dollar-sign-flashin' neighborhood bullies, servants, or rioters. And FYI, Mr Director, having Morgan Freeman play God will not make it even remotely palatable.

Racking tapes (the Smiths, the Cure) at the Goodwill cuz I don't want to wait in line no more. Scribbling with a grease pen on a train in Fruitvale. Preferring letters to e-mails. Assembling a chronology of Angela Carter's life.

The Gangster We Are All Looking For by le thi diem thuy: lyrical, at times searing and too familiar, especially since it's set in San Diego. Timidity: How to Overcome It (1916), part of a Mental Efficiency Series by Funk & Wagnalls Company, who also publish the encyclopedia you could buy, along with your cereal, at the supermarket, one volume at a time, for under a dollar. Truman Capote's Breakfast at Tiffany's.

Tomorrow night? Poetry night at a cafe on Lakeshore, to learn how to whip up espresso and lattes for Oaklandish verse-slingers.

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