Today I rode my bike to work, and received a puncture in my front tire just as my building came into view. That front tire's practically bald - I'll get a new one tomorrow. Spent too much time in a dull meeting populated by some pricks and dominated by a fat alpha male. The pricks rarely let anyone else complete a comment without interruption, and they always want to be right. The alpha male said little, and the rest of us just wanted to leave. Earlier I had a pleasant chat with my brother H (it's his birthday). After work I had sushi and then called up my pal B for a long talk. We're both semi-down, but felt much better after talking.

Last month I detailed my experiences with huffing thirty years ago. Yesterday I uncovered all manner of weird contemporary information pertaining to this topic - I'm distressed, and I'm compelled to write why.

I was listening to the end of Weekend All Things Considered Sunday evening, and its host Daniel Zwerdling did a piece about Latin American street kids. The problem's been brewing for years, but this was where I first learned that there's an enormous inhalant abuse problem down south. To many millions, a petro-chemical smell is the cheap and ready way to get loaded - and they do, every chance they get - what's especially creepy is the blatant public using. The glue of choice is a contact cement called Resistol, used nominally for the assembly of shoes - in Central America these sniffers are known as resistoleros. After steady usage begins, one's life expectancy's only about five more years so they're lucky to make it to age seventeen. What a dreary life. I wrote much more, but it's all a downer - if you're curious, check here for a journal entry where Justin encounters a resistolero, up close and personal, and here for some on-site pictures of them. And if you'd like to help out, Casa Alianza is probably a good place to start.