MENTAL TWITCH

Morning. Coffee. Pills. Step outside for a smoke. It's foggy, quiet. Down near the main drag a bicyclist goes by. There are no joggers yet, nor dog walkers. It isn't cold.

This, really, is what San Francisco should be like all the time.

We don't actually need fog horns anymore. But like cablecars they're part of the city, their absence would be noticed, detract. In a few hours I'll be heading across the bridge.

I rather like the commute to work.
It's quiet time.


When I woke up, a comedy routine from 'Beyond The Fringe' was running through my head. "And will this wind be so mighty as to lay low the mountains of the earth?"
It gets better with time.




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