Stop that Goddamn noise

In my latest incarnation of middle age, the Blue Angels annoy me tremendously. They visit San Francisco every year for "Fleet Week," an event supposed to evoke San Francisco's former relationship with the Armed Forces. For three days -- one of rehearsal and two of performance -- they perform aerial maneuvers over the center of town, which consequently resembles the capital of a war zone. Such noise!

Last night Cris and I went to the Berkeley Repertory Theater to see The Notebooks of Leonardo Da Vinci. If you were thinking of going, skip it. This is the second show I've seen at the Berkeley Rep -- the first was Homebody/Kabul -- and both shows featured mediocre acting. There wasn't a single standout performer in this show, which was also marred by too-busy direction and an overriding feeling of cuteness and we'll-do-this-because-we-can stage business.

At home the next day, Cris and I riffed on a satire called "The Notebooks of Jerry Bavinsky:" Lousy traffic on the Cross-Bronx Expressway today, as usual. The four things wrong with traffic? One: yer stuck!