A small German submarine came into our pond.
I don’t know how it got in there. It must have come in through one of the drainage pipes. How it navigated the creek is a mystery, but there it was. About the size and shape of a baseball bat.
It surfaced maybe a yard from shore. At first I thought it was a turtle, but then the hatch opened and several tiny German sailors appeared, barking orders.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
How old are you?
I ever tell you my Kerouac story?
You met Kerouac?
I punched him out.
What?
Asshole was trying to steal my girl.
You punched him?
Out cold.
How old are you?
What do you mean how old am I? How old do you think I am?
Not old enough to have known Kerouac.
Looks can be deceiving, my friend. Looks can be deceiving.
You met Kerouac?
I punched him out.
What?
Asshole was trying to steal my girl.
You punched him?
Out cold.
How old are you?
What do you mean how old am I? How old do you think I am?
Not old enough to have known Kerouac.
Looks can be deceiving, my friend. Looks can be deceiving.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Feral Houses

Sweet Juniper has a fascinating collection of abandoned houses, reclaimed by nature in Detroit. Beautiful and sad at once.
Light in the East Bay
A nice big, full, double rainbow to the south, viewed from our living room.
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