Should you wish to attend a b-day party thrown by an alcoholic (and bruised) bookworm tomorrow (the 6th) in west Oakland, e-mail me and I will send you the address. You will recognize me as the pink-veiled girl sipping her beer through a straw, inventing stories 'round her wounds and channeling Greta Garbo with custom-made German accent. You vant ice vit tat?

Humph. I would get into an accident only a few days before my 25th birthday . . . and on a bike, the first bike I�ve straddled since December. As my first act as an inhabitant of Oakland, I will be penning an annoyed citizen�s letter to the city about the danger posed by certain street constructions/obstructions.

Otherwise, the city has been rather mah-ve-lous, all thrills: Mel and I, arm in arm, tripping through the streets in thrifted suits, hats tilted cockly over our eyes; waking up next to Mel, a preacher in the nearby church extolling the virtues of the Lawd to his congregation; eggs, bacon and potatoes stinking the house so beautifully (and unless you are a occasional meat-eater living in a vegetarian, do-not-cook-fish-please house, you might never understand how beautiful it is to sniff deep this stink); one sticky afternoon biking to a music festival downtown.

Then I wasn�t reckless because I was, as Fernanda laughingly pointed, wearing the previous night�s shoes, impractical pointy patent-leather Marc Jacob shoes.

Alas, Cabernet during dinner at Le Cheval only a few hours later (as well as the 22 of Olde English at Mel�s and the few beers at the Ruby Room) will contribute to my downfall. As my Mongoose barrels down 14th Street, I fail to assess the raised concrete dividers in the road. Ouch.

In the morning, the liquor store clerk rings up my Neosporin and comments, Shorty, what happened to you? Eh, I shrug, It wasn�t the pavement�s fault.

So, apparently, with a new place, accompanies the re-alignment of face. There are pictures to prove it, if not the pool of blood I saw gleaming in the street. Four chipped teeth, one fractured tooth, abrasions on my left cheekbone, nose-bridge, forehead, upper lip, left elbow, left hip and left knee; cut on my chin, and general soreness on my left side. The right side is still thankfully molestable.

. . .

It could have been much worse. As I got here, there was another accident scene down the street. A mangled bike, lotsa blood, no body, reported Colin, Sonya�s EMT friend.

. . .

Um, yes. No more biking after wine (and beer and malt likker). Instead, crossed fingers and a helmet even if it is raw-ther unfashionable.

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