Friday: at the laundromat this kid was telling me that on Fillmore there’s this church that thinks John Coltrane was a gift from God and that the pastor is a madman on the drums and preaches “We don’t need eight white guys to tell us Mother Teresa was a saint." On Valencia today everybody thought it would be a good idea to build garden spaces on the street and so they sodded the pavement and built pirate ships. There was even a rock show on the lawn of the parking space on the street in front of the Mark Sanchez for supervisor campaign office which thrives pretty much by being indie rock. Supervisor of what? Today was my day off and it was good. I did laundry. I ate a mediocre burrito in the park with some guacamole I accidentally stole. Oops! I talked to Cate. I talked to Wendy. I talked to answering machines, talked to the fam. I watched Snow Angels. While I know I am not very good at being decisive, I am quite certain that the salted caramel ice cream at the Bi Rite creamery is my very favorite in the world.