SEND 10,000 WORKING ANTS

Parrots live atop Telegraph Hill. They fly around in a huge, screeching mass, harassing local trees and inciting severe spatial uncertainty among those outside the know. I saw them today as Em, Karen, and I toddled up to Coit Tower, enjoying a day around North Beach in partial commemoration of Em’s 23′d year on this fine Earth. Larry, our pagan kilt-clad neighbor, keeps parrots that emit squawks and yells that seem to amount to dumb moans, creeping up our air ducts to disturb any visitors that have the misfortune of sleeping on our couch. They might be happier on Telegraph Hill.

I bought a bicycle from a man in Berkeley who cut himself adjusting the seat, and gushed blood for another forty five minutes as he further fussed over fitting the bike to my particular physique. Aside from his very vital fluids, he also threw in a free bike pump, so I couldn’t exactly tell him I wasn’t interested. Ah, adventures on Craigslist! The handle bars are those of a street bike, what Em calls “ram’s horns,” which is certainly a change of pace. But the tire tubes fit the wheels, and the front wheel and the handlebars never seem to argue over which way I should turn, making it a slight improvement over the last bike I rode regularly. It got me to the nearest BART station unpancakified, and hopefully it will do the same for many trips between the Palo Alto Caltrain station and Em’s new apartment.

Targethead is back, in movie form. Or he will be. I used to draw him all the time in high school, always planning on giving him his own comic book, so he could travel the galaxy failing to find bounty with his ninjacular side-kick, Mime Man. This never happened, but he will now star in the very brief movie I’m making in my animation class. He will enter a bar, become aggravated, and punch someone. A title sequence has already been completed. Look for the finished product here in December!

This pedestrian update brought to you by satiation.