My Robot Is Pregnant theme song!

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it’s my girl’s birthday and I’m alone in Santa Cruz. I hope they have pancakes tomorrow.

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Bidding on the job to clean this house out. Garbage everywhere. A lonely old man and the garbage he collected. It’s kinda sad kinda creepy.

Ever hire a Mexican? You usually get to the job site and find out they’re Guatamalean. WTF? Do I gotta start checking ID’s too? I was told to get two Mexicans to break up this concrete and turns out Lucio is from Honduras and Santo is from Tecal.

I wonder what kind of border security Mexico has on it’s southern border. Any one have any idea? The right wing radio I listen to implied it’s not exactly open arms down there.

I did work with Santo. He was a former Guatemalean military commander. He fought guerillas.
“They rape the niños. They rape the niñas,” he told me. He had two long thin scars on the back of his head. “From machete. I don’t feel it. Guerrilas shoot me five times already.” He pulled up his sweat soaked t shirt and showed us a fat scar snaking up his chest. “I lose a lot of intestine.”

I went to the corner to hire a Mexican. I wanted some gentle guy who left his small farm to make some money and now I’m working with a war hero who’s most likely killed a large number of people.

” I believe in Jesus,” he tells me. “who’s Jesus? I don’t know. I believe in something.”

We all do.

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Bay to Breakers is a city sanctioned race across the city. Police stand on the sidelines as grown naked men push shopping carts loaded with kegs down the race course, people are smoking pot and selling brownies, it’s a total mess. And no one gets arrested and a few people get hurt and it feels good to be in a city where we can do this. Then go eat breakfast in a cafe.

This is the kind of graffiti I love. A neighbor calls the building inspector because they think the house is lead painted and improperly prepped for an update. The homeowner goes mental.

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I went to the scrap yard after the dump. You know, where I decided I didn’t have room for a cool looking garbage can? I bought the front half of an old Chrysler off the back of the guys truck in line in front of me. Where do I put that? I’ll have to tear down the fence to get it in the back yard.

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The dump is having an art show tonite from 5 till 9. You’ll see a cardboard engine block if you go. You’ll see the valve cover lifts up and there are beers on ice inside.

This was at the dump today, but I just don’t have room at home so it stayed there. The dump is like the animal shelter to me. I hate to thing of all these strays being put down under ground.

Mentioned it a few days ago. Get fingerprinted, take the prints down the hall and get fingerprinted again. You’ll see two charges on the receipt. The first one was $34 to dip my index finger on an ink pad and she gave me a strip cut from a brown paper towel you find in the restroom.

For $11 more they were able to digitally scan all of my fingers into a computer and I didn’t need ink. And if I’m digitally scanned into a computer, why do they need a blurred single print at the other office? Oh, because it’s 99% profit.

Here’s another thing: the Police Department collects $116 for the City Planning department. I asked if I could go pay them personally and I was told no. The Police Department has to collect that money and disperse it for the City Planning Department.

Why can’t there be a single office to collect all city fees? There were many more frustrations with this, but I can’t complain all the time. I need to eat too.

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but don’t put a child in one.

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who knew those characters were words stacked on top of each other?

This project took the work of a lot of people, and I’d like to thank them. It was Sophia who came up with “Hauler” and Chiraag got me the font. Lucio and Santo did most of the sanding, priming and painting. I need to put a second coat on the letters and then outline them in black. The taggers will hopefully stay away from it now.

The large empty space of the side of a truck is apparently too much for some kids who expect to be advertised to at every moment. It’s an attempt for someone with no voice to be heard, and it’s interesting that they are basically working in the vein of advertising themselves, attempting to brand themselves around town. Nowadays a street doesn’t look real if there aren’t signs over doors, signs in windows, billboards on buildings, advertising on street lights, and offers tacked on telephone poles. A big empty space should have words. A commercial truck like mine becomes a target for them because they expect it to be selling something.

They write their names in the poor parts of towns, they write it on work trucks parked on the street by people who can’t afford to keep them in a secure yard. It feels like the unhappiness a tagger feels is taken out on people who themselves are less fortunate. That’s no surprise.

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You’ll need an overhead projector. Check the dumpster behind the school. Two ladders, something to lay between the ladders to set the projector on, and a few cassette tapes to get the projector’s angle right. I used Circle Jerks and The Dead Kennedy’s. It’s your preference really on that part. Then you trace the image with a sharpie on the truck. Tomorrow in the daylight it’ll be fill in the blanks with paint.

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Those tires looks so small, like they can’t support the truck. Anyway, Saturday night is slow in the Richmond. Someone took their time on this one.