What happened yesterday

Not in Del Taco for a change. Long bike ride. Life is good, I'm out at Lower Lake Mary under a tree, could be better if I wasn't sitting on a bed of pine needles. Thorny and the thin fabric on my bathing trunks leaves something to be desired. I take a call from Belster. She's the toast of the town in New York City and is prepared to do whatever it takes in order to never leave, even if this means marrying me. I talk her sore head through the aftermath of her night last night and she later texts me to say that she made it to the Kushner play.

Pig Ankle Strut

The motto here at TM of The H is It's All True and this post is dedicated to the nautical navigation of Orson Welles. I suppose I should continue where this entry first started and that was at a Del Taco on Friday the 20th of May sometime after one in the afternoon. I had ordered two crunchy fish tacos and the cashier told me to cut the coupon out seeing as I had brought the entire page of coupons with me. I asked her for a pair of scissors she begrudgingly got the implement from a room beyond my vision. I then sat down at my regular table. The restaurant was busier than it had been previously yet I took little notice of the patrons. By the time I realized I did not have a pen, my food was ready. I asked for a pen as I collected my food and this is where the story ceases to be interesting. What matters though is that it is all true and my name is Orson Welles. I ate my disappointing tacos and never really got inspired to write anything down because I worried that the surly cashier was going to ask for her pen back any minute.

I reconfigured my room when I was down with a cold this week and as I shifted my bed the leg snapped. I washed my American quilt to help ease the pain of sleeping on a broken bed. Corwin and I went to Walnut Canyon yesterday and walked around Navajo dwellings built into the rock face. Lots of steep maneuvering. My quadriceps were all a-quiver. Then we drove to Mormon Lake to look at a potential site of summer employment for my fellow colleague (groundskeeper). He envisaged the place as a Crystal Lake or Meatballs camp community and I concurred. I convinced him to have a beer in the bar and it was redneck genius. One guy ordered a double jager and then a water as an after thought and when he finished his jager he spilled the water all over the bar next to me. What this says to me is the guy couldn't handle his water. It was only four o' clock. Two guys came stumbling in asking how the heck do you get out of this place when the door and windows showing daylight were right in front of them. Song of the day is Red Krayola's Pig Ankle Strut and once again I am Orson Welles.

Love to love Love

I'm at Del Taco blogging into my notebook. Later I will have an underpaid monkey upload the content into a computer terminal. The reason I am here is not because I was hungry, an earlier cinnamon-flavored Toast-em Pop-up took care of that, no, there was a buy one-get one free coupon in the mail and damn it all to heck if I ain't gonna use it. Now I have finished my burritos there's a hailstorm sweeping the hillside. Surely it's been a month of no precipitation and today's got me trapped in an empty Del Taco. A cool part about getting stuck in here is the gravitas it gives to the US Psychedelic mix I'm listening to. Constructed by my man in Wales, the inestimable Steve Hanson aka Steveski, The Ess, Steve Aitch, there's a sweet sequence involving the 60s LA band Love that makes you think Love is all you ever want or need.

Clarkenator was here a couple weeks back. I'll write more about the great time we had once the accompanying visuals have been processed. In other news, getting giddily beered up the other night allowed me to procure a gay cowboy leather bracelet with a horseshoe pendant from a tea shop in town.