Sunday, August 24

On N. 27th Street last night as Jon drives Seppo and I back from dinner at Sinbad's (chicken kabob, rice, bean soup, hot tea), a rust-eaten pickup with no muffler and a shattered windshield. Stickers in the left and right corners of the back window: Calvin urinating on, respectively, the words FOREIGN SHIT, and PETA. Driver laughing and grinning as he repeatedly guns the engine and passes us in a cloud of exhaust smoke. Fat girl in passenger seat looking happy.

p1k3 / 2004 / 8 / 23