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2008-05-15 11:01 p.m.

Some days feel magical and warm and perfect. On days like that the sun is just right, the cookies are delicious, and I don't even feel that carsick, even though Glenn is careening around corners and over curbs like maniac.

Those are the days when the sunset seems to last forever.

Glenn and I started off the day at his house—talking, snacking, drinking tea, making offensive jokes. We rushed off to Silver Lake to have a meeting with his friend Ron, who is a photo rep. Ron gave us the quick low-down on everything he thinks we need to know to properly rep Glenn in today's economic climate. Super fun stuff, if you're a photo and business dork, which I am.

After that Swedish pop artist Jamie Meyer came by the office. I love his music so I arranged a meeting where I could find out more about him and see if I could help him. There is, of course, tons I can do to help his career. However, he has no money to pay me. So, I gave him two hours of consulting for free and assigned him tons of homework. I hope he actually does the stuff I told him to do.

After that I swung by Beth Death's. She told me she had a present for me and I was dying to see what it was. She'd bought me this six-pack of blood-red toilet paper that I really wanted. (I didn't buy it for myself because it was $15 for the six rolls!)

She added a special touch, which was that for wrapping paper she used the wallpaper from Marilyn Manson's hallway. ("Yeah, I wallpapered his hallway a long time ago. I kept some of the paper. I use it to wrap gifts some times. You know, it was really hard to wallpaper his house because of the curved corners.")

I felt weird that I had his wallpaper. I mean, I barely know the guy. I met him once about ten years ago when my band opened him. I hardly think that this is an intimate enough relationship to warrant me having his wallpaper remnants.

Beth comforted me, "It's not weird. It's funny. Just use it to make a book cover for one of your books."

How practical.

A nice man stopped me at the gas station and talked with me about a Nash Metropolitan he used to have about 35 years ago. He was so well spoken and gentle that I didn't want to smash his teeth with hammers when he asked me if I could spare any change. Our little talk had been so nice. Why not reward him? I gave him two dollars.

A tow-truck driver was parked next to me at the gas station. He was from Eastern Europe—he had that pale, irritable look and that unmistakable accent. He was walking around my little Fiat 850 sedan, checking it out.

"Dis car eez to small vor Ell Lay. If you get een accident you weel die. Ees no good."

I shrugged and smiled, "I guess I like to live dangerously."

On the way home I stopped and bought a big container of cookies. The rapper-looking-guy in front of me let me cut in front of him because I only had one item.

I told him that he made my day.

But, some days you wake up and you feel your day was already 'made' from the beginning.