in transit, mark danielsonJournal

So I've been writing this thing since sometime in 1996. Crap happened back then, though, so I stopped posting. I more or less kept writing, though, and will now be adding old content as I dig it out.


  • December - In progress.
  • November
  • October
  • September
  • August
  • July
  • June - On an unrelated note, tomorrow I get all four wisdom teeth pulled.
  • May - The streets were mercifully empty, allowing me to speed to the dealer, stall out in the parking lot and push the car into a parking space.
  • April - Due to some comments people have directed at me over the past day, I'd just like to make clear I'd never electrocute my cat.
  • March - Today's entry is not about complete and total physical and mental exhaustion, although I could've gone that route if I wanted to do so.
  • February - "I'm a little hesitant to ask, as although it's the first time I've ever had this happen, I just know you're going to draw a sweeping conclusion from it."
  • January - "Hey," I said. "It's not nice to talk about your own country that way."


  • December - "You're just lucky I didn't start giving out crap on the 6th."
  • November - I always knew he'd go first.
  • October - It rained in Los Angeles. It rained in San Jose. It rained all the way up the Pacific Coast Highway.
  • September - The site took a break this month.
  • August - "Well, your father had a lot of tests today. He had a heart attack, and has some fractures in his feet."
  • July - Loud cars, flying dirt, beer, skeeters, and girls with mustaches. What could be better?
  • June - "I bet she goes home and cries every night."
  • May - "That's the expiration date, dumbass."
  • April - I didn't expect to end up getting a straight-on beaver flash in a Perkins north of St. Paul, but, you know, sometimes that's just how things work out.
  • March - "Hi Mark. Uh, this is me, Dave. I was calling about the, uh, Saab you have for sale. Please call me back as soon as possible. Please? Bye."
  • February - Apparently a photo I took in April of 2003 showed up on a Photoshop thread this morning.
  • January - "Aluminum rims. They have trouble holding their seals in this weather."


  • December - "Wait," he said. "What are you doing with a Christmas tree?"
  • November - The worst flight I ever had was the one where we flew...
  • October - As it stands, my new car is spending its fourth straight month at the mechanic, my cell phone has a faulty SIM card and the Minnesota Department of Public Safety thinks my Social Security number is invalid.
  • September - One arm to the East, the other to the West. One leg to the East, the other to the West. One eye to the East, the other to the West. One testicle to the...
  • August - There are a million or so things I can't do well, and I can now affirm one of them is salsa dancing.
  • July - I have a sunburn, and I don't mean a little slightly-burned sunburn. I mean a Cliff Claven tan-lines sunburn.
  • June - "And you asked me to help you unpack and move. I was putting clothes in your dresser, your underwear on one side, her's on the other side..."
  • May - Occassionally I'll have a week I want to hold onto, a week to file away in memories and photographs to recall on some distant day. Last week was not one of those weeks, but I suspect I'll be recalling it on a daily basis at least through July.
  • April - No word yet on whether he was back on Sunday.
  • March - If one figured out all the averages and percentages, it would probably be discovered that Sarah had the equivalent of a 18-pound kid.
  • February - "Is it wrong for me to say Chelsea Clinton got hot at some point?"
  • January - "You ever have trouble telling if girls are interested in you?"


  • December - "You know what would be cool? If we waited until they finished demolishing the old school, and then BURNED THE NEW SCHOOL TO THE GROUND."
  • November - She then spent five minutes rambling about all the great things she did in my hometown, many of which were both dangerous and stupid.
  • October - "I wish my radiators did that." "Did what?" "Worked."
  • September - I was surprised to find Putter trapped on the couch, his front claws tangled in the woven throw I have covering it.
  • August - This guy walks into a pub and half his head is a big orange.
  • July - Car fires always happen at the most inconvenient times.
  • June - "We'll just have to paint it in sections and have an area where you can hop to your door."
  • May - I almost countered that I'm not gay, just a designer, but then decided that line of argument could backfire.
  • April - The air has that stagnant, somewhat vulgar smell frigid winter mornings often bring, the one that seems to say you shouldn't be out here, the one that tells you to go back from where you came, back to where it's warm.
  • March - Among things you don't want to hear screamed at 33,000 feet, "Let me out of here!" probably ranks rather highly.
  • February - Bite down, I thought. How? Your wrist is in the way.
  • January - I briefly found myself overcome with the urge to lie down on an isolated section of the ice, stare at the moon and watch the planes fly out of MSP, but then thought someone may see me, think I had a heart attack or something and call the cops, so I decided not to.


  • December - I remain stedfast in my belief that inner peace is overrated.
  • November - Spotted on a banner hung from an I-35W overpass: Osama Pohlad.
  • October - That after-market catalytic converter explains a lot.
  • September - This morning, for the first time ever, I trembled with anger.
  • August - Film developing: $204.
  • July - The unsuspecting gathered back at the apartment a while later where their host shoved brats and hamburgers at them like a dealer encouraging a first puff of crack.
  • June - We're looking for a Shoeless Joe Jackson, right?
  • May - I was nowhere near the fucking driveway.
  • April - It became incredibly obvious the guy across the alley wasn't actually a guy.

in transit—a lame attempt at a homepage since 1996—is a service of Mark Danielson and
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