Word

Injured my shoulder. The right shoulder. Again. Unprepared for a test. Or more likely that my diet is off, joints and ligaments are tired.

Speaking of which, it's been a pretty damn good year. More specifically, it's been a good May, June, and July, if not a little strange here and there. July was the month of screaming rants in the streets. Saw a lot of those. Before and after the eclipse. June was hazy and cloudy, and I got a lot of writing done. May was a lot of climbing and I got to see some friends here and there in between, didn't get to see a lot of others, and even made a few new friends, lost some others. Life in a small bubble. I'm getting out when I can, and that's about normal for me.

Meanwhile, I haven't paid any attention to the news in months. I kind of miss it. Recently I watched some Daily Show episodes and Colbert Report. I realized I haven't had cable for about a year or more. Feels lovely.

And that's it with me. I think I might be living in some kind of delusion. I haven't had a microwave in years. I'm told it's convenient and time-saving.

Like I already said, I don't eat enough, but isn't that true of most people on earth? I'm doing fine with some effort and focus. But I get my occasional back troubles.

To cope, I study Dave Kinsey. Also, happy-making free live concerts at California Plaza. I'm on the second level by the benches and trees, overlooking the water beneath those towering, towering skyscrapers reflecting colors of twilight. MOCA is right next door. LA downtown open air is a particular place to listen to beautiful music. And Goddess knows there's plenty of good modern music. Heaps.

Damn. I've said too much. A wiser man than me once said that all language is violence. As a writer, I couldn't agree more, and could talk about it endlessly.

For now, why don't I just agree to talk more often.