"Sorry, the sun's in my eyes",

....he told me as I walked out of the doors of the dry cleaners. He weaved his way around me while shielding his eyes and holding his smoldering cigarette an exagerated length away from his body. His knit cap was pulled down over greasy, stringy hair and he had a pair of 70s mirrored sunglasses pushed up onto his forehead. His skin was the mottled color of a mangy dog. It had burned, peeled, burned again, and remained unwashed for such a length of time that you could see cracks and fissures through the red discoloration.

I caught a whiff of him as he careened past me.....a smell of sweat, urine, and beer that was quickly swept away by the gentle ocean breeze. I looked over my shoulder to make sure that he had not fallen down, but he was already two shops down. His head was turned towards the ground and I could see a puff of smoke rising above his head. I wondered where he was off to. Was he worried about the deepening dusk and where he would sleep for the night. Was he hungry? Tired? Sad? Or just simply content to wander on??

A new year....a new decade

This feels like such a Doogie Houser experience, but at least now I know what it feels like. So much depends on the blank blog post.....promises of greatness or assurance of banalities. Time will tell which one I produce...