11:54am Finish my law midterm, a stellar piece of mundane bullshit that will earn me an A. In the background ESPN analysts are combing the truth of a friend of the chick Favre sexted.
12:32pm Waiting for my sandwich to toast at Subway, Sarai looks at my newspaper and says, "You like to read, huh?" I want to go, "You like to breathe, huh?"
1:02pm I drop my ballot my ballot at the post office as Van Halen's "Jump" plays on the radio.
1:15pm Stuck behind a truck with letters faded, spelling Financial Express Worldwide. All but the capitals are nearly completely scratched and scorched. All you can read from a few cars back is FEW.
1:32pm Overhead in line at the Oxnard College Admissions Office, "So your purpose here today was to prove residency?" "Yes." "But you have no proof." "Well I have this mail." "It's not even addressed to you Miss." "Oh."
1:50pm A diamond winged jet blasts over Hueneme Road between me and the mountains, dips at the base and swings up and out over the water toward the islands.
2:15pm At a stop sign on CI campus, wait patiently while the ladies soccer team marches in cheer to a pep rally. A girl in the middle of the throng is texting. Maybe Favre.
3:45pm A basketball-sized wooden sculpture tumbles off the patio opposite me, crashing in two perfect pieces next to a palm tree, narrowly misses a dog taking a piss against it. Neither dog or owner seem to notice. I pick up my travel guitar and work on the strings
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