Energy crisis be damned!

My step son gave me a gift this morning. It has been added to the swag on my desk.

We need to do something special this weekend. Nits the ceremonial end of summer and we have to go down swinging.

San Diego is out of the question, isn’t it?

What should we do?

Maybe I can sit in with the organist and we can play Voodoo Chile or maybe some Deep Purple.

That’s the spot.

I’ll spend my days working in a t-shirt shop or something, and then spend my evenings and weekends sitting on that wall with my 12-string guitar playing poor renditions of old blues songs with my case open at my feet so tourists can drop quarters into it.

My whole life is now planned out. Let’s go today!

Is it really September 1st? Are the summer months really over? I totally refuse to accept this.

It’s still summery in San Diego, I bet.

Sometimes I seriously hate the damn passage of time.