When I think of summer I think of riding my bike in flip flops, or maybe bare feet. Summer is when my skin turns brown; the hair on my arms golden, barely there. It’s the season of no comb. Summer is the sound of boats racing in the harbor down the street. It’s the cross breeze cooling things down around five and the sky staying lit past eight while kids zoom by on their skateboards until the very last minute.…
Today started out much like any other day: woke up, fed the cats, rode my bike. From there it veered to the crazy side when I ended up in the apartment of a stranger who read my mail without even realizing he was doing…
M: Hi, do you have cell phone reception? Me: No, there’s no reception up here for miles. —————————————– When Chris asked what I wanted to see in Big Sur I had only one thing: the Bixby Bridge. Blame it on Tupac Shakur barreling over…