mechanical eyes and brain

During my recent excursion to San Francisco, my cell phone went headlong into the crapper. The LCD screen thing completely blanked out for some unknown reason. It was two years old, though, which is about 2508 in cell phone years, so I suppose it led a full life. It has now been sent off for recycling and I am now beginning a new relationship with a brand new Sanyo camera phone with a speaker phone thing on it.

The artist doing his best not to look at the camera
so as to appear more aloof and mysterious.

She seems really sweet, even though they were unable to transfer my phone book from Ol' Bessy, leaving me clueless and detached from my tiny world. I can't call anyone, except my parents. Pre cell phone, I had a photographic memory for phone numbers. I still remember my family's first phone number, but now that space in my brain has become occupied by other things, and the task of knowing how to get in touch with those who matter most was left in the capable hands of my mobile.

It's a setback to be sure, but with the new phone, I can take pictures with it, which I've been doing pretty much all day. I'm kinda enamoured with the blurry charm of cell phone photography. The technology seems so advanced and shitty at the same time. It's wonderful. I've already taken pictures of all my roommates' cars, my roommates, four pictures of myself and a Toyota Prius with spinning rims and a trailer hitch--quite possibly the coolest car ever.

Ate at In-N-Out for lunch, hit some balls at the batting cage, sipped Seagram's VO from a flask while driving around with my roommate and his girlfriend. I think I forgot to eat dinner along the way. Watched two of the Amityville Horror movies and laughed my ass off, but now I will curse my Catholic upbringing and try not to dwell on the horrors of demonic possession. Tracy Chapman's "Fast Car" gets me every fucking time.

I'm starving, but Super Troopers is hilarious.