June 28, 2024:

Bald; dangling white Merlin beard; the Wizard's consort in tie die; neither ever having experienced the inside of a gym. CSNY on their boombox: "Gotta get down to it — shoulda been done long ago". Small dog on leash. Family outing in the park, 2024.

Exercise in East County. 360 feet above sea level and 15 degrees hotter.

June 27, 2024:

Street bike, street cart, unlit cigarette dangling, skin like bunt paper. Lighter and box cutters atop the sweatshirts piled in his cart.

There but for fortune.

June 26, 2024:

Cannabis dispensaries. That's different.

My restaurants are gone, my hobby stores are gone, my mother's factories now house the Navy. The sun is there, the ocean is there, the sky is there. But it's all nowadays a hazy shade of winter.

Nothing good ever came of leaving.