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Tweet [My brother will be guest editor for a couple posts because he had a story to tell. This is that story.] You don’t have to be a commie to ride a motorcycle, but diaries are for teenage girls. Tough, but girls will laugh at you. A couple months ago I got a . . . → Read More: Diary of a Motorcycle: Part One Tweet Super: (over black) The Conversation EXT. DAY — STEARNS WHARF Probably not mind-controlled, nor communing with dinosaurs, but most possibly nutty. An overcast day, mostly still with just a hint of onshore breeze. The tide is high and a south swell buffets the pilings. The sound is like small marbles rolling along . . . → Read More: The Conversation Tweet The book that says it all, or at least what has been said before. I must warn you to beware when a guitar-playing Jesus shows up at your “office” and asks if things are great. (And yes, he says it like that.) He then sets a book down on your desk. It . . . → Read More: Bananas Tweet [Note: I wrote this over a year ago, then sat on it because it seemed trivial. However, since this blog has been incredibly glitchy for quite some time and I can't find the fricken code I need to contact my host, you'll just have to read a belated review, sans pictures, . . . → Read More: Pineapple Express Tweet In the foothills northeast of Santa Barbara sits a posh, gated community, where if you happen to be working within, you must first sign a contract, the small print of which states you must not even look at the pool once you’re on the property you’ve been assigned to. Dogs aren’t even allowed . . . → Read More: The BBQ Puker |
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