This summer of twenty aught thirteen started out great, with the annual Big Sur send off of Spring in May. It was terrible. Simply diminishing. You should never go.
Then there was an actual cause for celebration, the reason being a person who looked sort of like me actually pulled off a successful booth at the Treasure Island Flea Market at the end of that month. That person was also very grateful to those who came out and supported his two day rebellion against the weekend, especially to those who nourished the worker bee with cold beers. That they did not recognize the person they had come to reinforce was understandably awkward. To some, he remains just too ninja.