Reaching out to the dead. This is a perfect night for listening to the rain. There is nothing worth watching on television, which is sometimes my refuge from reality, so I … Continue reading Waiting for a sign from the unknown

Reaching out to the dead. This is a perfect night for listening to the rain. There is nothing worth watching on television, which is sometimes my refuge from reality, so I … Continue reading Waiting for a sign from the unknown
S. smoked grass for fifty years, beginning as a roadie with the Bob Seger band and ending in the living room with her old man — that’d be me.
Blogging is a self-publishing ego trip, of course, and self-publishing is often looked down upon, even scorned by many.
The days of Miami Vice and Sonny Crockett when the humidity was high and so was I, so were we both.