|
|||||
|
Tweet The most terrifying day of my life. Always dress properly for long motorcycle rides. I left the mountain around ten am. My mom had packed some snacks for me, which wouldn’t fit in my bag if I also took the extra jacket I had brought. I opted to take the snacks instead . . . → Read More: Diary of a Motorcycle: Part II 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 The majestic Alabama Hills, as depicted by Ansel Adams. The surreality of golfing is enough to warrant that nothing more needs to be said—unless you end up in Lone Pine. Lone Pine as a concept should have dissolved into a wispy ghost town decades ago, but it survives by the graces of . . . → Read More: Golfing |
|||||
|
Copyright © 2012 Random Press - All Rights Reserved |
|||||
Vitriol