I rode to Pebble Beach, picked mulberries, and rode south, around the Point, to 63rd St. beach, to the end of the pier, around the outer harbor, the inner harbor, through the golf course, and the tunnel to the Obamachron. I'm still not used to living next to a tourist attraction, and I kind of hope it becomes a ghost town, but that's just magical thinking, it's urban renewal, it's the Jackson Park Obamachron now.
magic tunnel and jesus pier.
Get thee hence, AIPAC monsters! Cats for Peace!
I had a little spaz attack this morning, but I came back with a load of luscious berries and sweet pees, and I'm going for a swim.
In "america" we're raised on violence from infancy, but some of us never get used to it.
The guy I yelled at in the dog yard who was condoning genocide came back from his second home in Florida and I wished he had stayed but he reappeared and I turned north and I sensed him following and looked back and saw him and scooted Lulu and when I looked back again he disappeared and maybe it was in my mind that he was following and I thought What does he want now? What would he say if we stopped and he caught up with us? I don't want to know, and yet we have to be open to everything in reality, and it's not beyond the realm of the possible that he would have had an awakening, even in Florida.
