A feast for the sentences

So, I got the Pacific Beverage job, and after sitting and learning the ropes from Melissa, the girl who currently has the job, it becomes absolutely clear to me that this is one of those jobs you have to spend time at the job to really learn much.

It’s cool, though, yesterday I printed a banner three feet wide by twenty feet for the mid-state fair.

Now just to take care of business…

The hole in the roof, or, what Benjamin found there…

A lot of pain.

We were starting our second day of breaking our house, and I had just emptied out the wheelbarrow we had on the roof, bringing it back to fill it up again…

I guess I just wasn’t paying attention, for what do I find but a GIANT FREAKING HOLE where the attic vent used to be. I should’ve remembered we’d taken that out yesterday, because when you find a hole, you usually wish you had found it with your eyes, not with both of your legs stuck in it.

So, a bunch of small scrapes on one leg, and a giant circular raspberried scrape on the other… After two days, it doesn’t hurt much anymore, just looks pretty gnarly.

It was pretty cinematic, though… the wheelbarrow fell away from me, clamoring to another part of the roof, falling to its side in utter confusion, with its wheel still slowly turning…

I should be sleeping, but then I remembered I had some weblog, somewhere.

So… update, update, update.

The internet was down for a while, and now we have it back. We’re paying for it now, which means, no, we weren’t paying for it before… it’s quite a story, and sometime, when I have the time to do it, I’ll tell you.

Today we spent the day tearing off our roof, beginning what will be the second of Jim’s many improvements to the house over the summer. Earlier, last week, we installed recessed lighting into Matt’s room, which we will do with mine, once it is time for me to change rooms in the house.

I am absolutely beat from today’s tearing. And I probably shouldn’t be writing in this thing, but since I am here, I should.

I spent the weekend helping Devon move to San Francisco, for law school. He happens to live just three or four blocks from the Great American Music Hall, and Sunday night, Sufjan Stevens played there to a sold-out show. I wasn’t able to go, because I had to be back in town to get up to break my house, but…

thinking about summer, in the strange city, Sufjan Stevens and the Great American Music Hall. Thinking about the last time these four occurences collided…

I need to make many phone calls. I don’t call people enough. I don’t call anybody enough, and if you’re reading this, and you’re one of those people, know that you are being thought of far more than my telephonical behavior dictates.

Tomorrow, I will continue breaking my house, followed by a AAAAAHHHHH hair appointment at noon. Then, a meeting with a friend that may hire me to do some banner work for his printing company, and then, at 4:30, an interview in Santa Margarita for a job I need to have. Pacific Beverage Distribution needs a designer, and since they do all the advertising for Anheuser-Busch from San Luis to King City, this is pretty big time.

Tomorrow… woo-hoo.

Infinity is a curved highway to nowhere

I’m sorry I haven’t been updating much lately. What seems to be an annual event, the internet has been down at my house since I came back from down south. Last summer, the net was down for over a month and this year, it might happen again.

Good news, Jim’s back from Mexico. Now, the craziness can start. We’re demolishing the kitchen and part of the back yard, and a couple of walls in Matt’s and my rooms. So, over the next couple of months, I’m going to be moving into Matt’s room for a bit while we work on my room. I get to decide whether or not I want to move back, but I think I will. I like being a little farther from the tv in the living room.

On my way back from down south, I saw a white delivery van on the side of the 101. It had caught fire and was melted so much I could see the inside of the engine and almost every other part of the vehicle. The fire had spread to a nearby hillside and it, too, had caught aflame. As the fire crawled on it’s belly across the yellow summer grass, a neighborhood nearby was being evacuated. You could see the smoke for miles.

It gave me some crazy flashbacks to my own inflammatory vehicular adventure. I patted the Red Baron on the dash and said, “don’t worry, that won’t happen to you.”

Funny thing, I’m driving north of Santa Barbara on the 101, and I start tuning into San Diego’s very own 91x. It must be because they’re transmitting out of Tijuana they don’t have the restrictions on how far they can send their signal that other, US-bound stations have. Rock on.