"The Living Buddha"

I made the wise decision to listen to Gangstabilly by the Drive-By Truckers on my walk home from work. Feeling low from a particularly lousy Monday -- the kind of Monday which regurgitates the fried, toxic feeling I felt when I left Friday at ten after five -- my disposition immediately improved as soon as I heard "The Living Buddha":

I stopped off at the bookstore to get a couple of birthday cards. I always take a look at what's on the remainder table. I decided to pickup Michael Korda's T.E. Lawrence biography, Hero, and Philip Dray's history of American labor, There Is Power in a Union. They'll go on top of one of the piles of books I have stacked in my studio; books I don't have time to read.

From the bookstore I cut through the soccer field next to Cal Anderson Park. A pickup game was in progress on the north end. I have fond memories of when I was laid off in the spring of 2011 and used to give my legs a break from road running by jogging square laps on the cushiony artificial pitch.

Once home I finally picked out of the bottom of my refrigerator the splintered glass from the water bottle that burst last week.