Anticipating the Sounds of ...

Sometimes it doesn't pay to stay up late. All kinds of bad things can happen. The worse of which is me, turning crabby in the morning and then having spontaneous arguments break out over nothing in particular while my toast goes cold. The life of a domesticated man has way too many pitfalls, but alas, they are all of my own doing. I came to the realization today that for my stories to proliferate, I have to bring more to the table. You get me? I know you do. My previous posts talked about some of my favorite podcasts and as you know, I am rarely seen with less than one earbud sticking out of my head. I know, I look like a doofus like that. But come on, if only you knew what I was listening t

The Creepy tour

On Monday night this past week, my buddy, Gabe, and I went out and took the condensed Creepy San Diego tour. It is a tour I used to lead when I was a young twenty-something back in the early nineties. It was unofficial and mainly for friends visiting from out of town. But it seems to have become creepier since then. We only hit a couple highlights, since Gabe was aware of a few of them. What he had not seen was the "guard house" at the San Diego Presidio Junipero Serra museum. Specifically the stone and brick inlaid roof sporting a 20 foot pentacle. (The Roof of the Guardhouse beneath the Father Serra Museum) This rooftop is on the West side of the museum, above the old guardhouse which sta

Outsiders & Those Little Tangents

Over the weekend, I went camping with my family and some friends. I don’t see friends very often, certainly not as often as I’d like. But about twenty of us went out to a not-so-remote campground in Ramona, CA. Dos Picos County Park is an oasis from the city life I see every day. Don’t get me wrong, I mean, yes, I do live in paradise, but there’s too much going on, it’s too busy, and too loud. Sometimes I need a break from the noise. I also need to reconnect with other human beings. I have my family, sure, but they’re used to my quirks, eccentricities, and so on. It’s not until I mix with others that I can see myself more closely to see who I really am or at least, how I project myself. I m

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Photos courtesy of Pixabay.com.

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