Monday Carlsbad.

Surfed the smoothies at Carlsbad in the morning. Thanks to Tracy for the breakfast!

Epilogue:

I had a great time at that reunion, though it was like an LSD trip for sure. As I write this, I think of Crumbly. Or Woodstock. Where’s the “talk-down tent” when you need it? Didn’t the 60’s actually die in 1968?

A lot to take in.

I learned that I still know how to party very hard!

Arriving home from the 7 hour; 57, to 210, to I-5, to 46 scissors, to 101 hell-ride and start writing.

But oops, I started spacing about the reunion thing and I started driving east on 60! Maybe pulled to my brother Myke’s b-day camping pilgrimage to J-tree somehow.

Other shit made a lot more sense as I went and took an hour nap at my mom’s house and then went with her to Peet’s before I drove all the way back home.

I saw that she has kept my abstract art pieces from elementary school. Even the one where I am at the art fair and pointing to mine and have my picture in the local news!

Maybe someday she’ll produce the poetry journal that got my only “A” in an AP Class, but somehow it disappeared… (The alleged drunk teacher apparently loved it despite the fact that it was very lewd for a 17 year old.)