No, I have no class.

I have to say that, minus the empty downtown sprawl of Oakland, my walk home is pretty awesome. What it's lacking is a local business in which I can duck to take a pee. See, I have this problem of drinking too much and hopping on the bart to get home. I always pee right before I leave the bar - but by the time I've reached my stop in Oakland, I need to go again. What, I ask you, is a girl to do? I try to walk home - thinking I can make it the two miles to my bathroom. Sometimes I can. Other times I simply have to find a private tree. It's not as easy as it seems. I think I always end up exposing myself to someone - but I'm usually too drunk to notice.

What I'm asking for is simple - for the many establishments with bathrooms on my walk home to stay open just a few hours later. I'll settle for just one placed conveniently about halfway into my walk. This would be perfect. If it served beer or wine, even better! I would buy a drink after using the bathroom - pee again - and stagger home.

This way I can enjoy the reflection of lights on the surface of Lake Merritt and even stop to gaze at the fountains and how they make the reflections ripple in a cool way.

For the love of God a bathroom.

In other news, I just finished an excellent book by Paul Bowles - one of my all time favorite authors - called Up Above the World. I'm going to quote his modest poetry and call it a night.

She rose. "I've got to get something to put around my shoulders. The wind's blowing right on me."

He did not offer to go with her. As she hurried along toward the bedroom, she found herself marveling that she should be able to go on talking while Taylor lay unconscious. It seemed to help prove the truth of a suspicion she had long entertained: people could not really get very close to one another; they merely imagined they were close.